‘I’ll help you do that cupboard tonight,’ said John.
Julia regarded him humorously. ‘Are you working on the assumption that the best form of defence is attack?’ she asked. ‘No; I couldn’t find the printing paper!’
They went through to a bright, modern kitchen, decorated in pale blue and white. Everything about it was shining and hospital-clean. But when the food cupboard was opened, the big letdown became immediately evident. For among the rightful contents of a kitchen larder were interpolated alien objects like the old enlarger that John no longer used, the packets of flashbulbs, the printing frame — a dozen assorted pieces of equipment that should have felt more at home in a dark-room.
‘I do see what you mean!’ said Cartwright. ‘Though where I’m going to put all this stuff, I just don’t know.’
‘But you never use it, John,’ said Julia. ‘Why don’t you get rid of it? Sell it.’
‘You never know,’ he said. ‘I might need it some time. Besides, in that condition none of it would fetch anything to speak of. It’ll have to go in the attic.’
She made a despairing gesture. ‘Where it will remain till Kingdom Come! Incidentally, your printing paper is underneath the tinned stuff.’
He took down one of the tins from the shelf and examined it absently. ‘Is Maureen asleep?’
Julia was balancing herself carefully on top of the kitchen table. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I think she dropped off the moment she got into bed.’ She punctuated her remarks jerkily each time she stretched up to reach the things on the top shelf of the cupboard. ‘I can’t help wishing we knew for certain what was wrong with her.’
John was making a neat stack of the canned food over in the corner. His contribution to the proceedings was more companionable than it was operational. ‘We’ll know soon enough,’ he rejoined. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing serious.’ He changed the subject deliberately. ‘I’ve never heard of Spigett’s baked beans — Heinz we know; Crosse & Blackwell we know; I hope Spigett’s are as good!’
Julia’s stack of unloaded kitchenware was now very much larger than his. ‘Have you come in here merely to discuss the grocery list? Or are you actually going to do some work?’ She looked momentarily at the cans that now formed a small display of their own. John had arranged them as if they were in a shop window. ‘As a matter of fact, we always have Spigett’s — I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before.’
‘I never eat ‘em,’ said John.
‘And you never cook ‘em,’ she mimicked. ‘Here, pass me that brush, will you?’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Cartwright suddenly.
Julia paused with a half-empty jam-jar in her hand. ‘What?’ she said.
‘You’ve got a secret supply of tinned salmon, and I didn’t know!’
She laughed. ‘You weren’t meant to!’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be there now if you’d known about it.’
‘Well, let’s have it for supper tonight,’ he said. ‘Special treat.’ He transferred the can to a place of honour on top of the electric clock. ‘It’s an ill wind that blows no one any good,’ he remarked. ‘If I hadn’t “helped” you with this chore, I would never have discovered this Royal Fish.’
‘I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over tinned salmon,’ said Julia. ‘But we’ll have it, if you like. Only do help me a bit, will you? You haven’t done anything at all so far.’
‘Nonsense! Who did the tins?’ he protested.
‘Oh yes, the tins! Well, you can graduate to the jellies now…’
After the meal, John tried to persuade Julia to have an early night.
‘If you want me,’ he added, ‘I’ll be in the dark-room. Only don’t do what you usually do, and fling open the door with the hall light on. It doesn’t make for good photography!’
Julia made herself a cup of tea to postpone the act of going to bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, only lie there and worry about Maureen. Now she tried to think back, tried to work out when the graph of the child’s health had first veered downwards. Well, she had certainly been all right at Christmas, though she had paid the price of childish gluttony…
‘Mummy,’ said Maureen, ‘I feel funny.’
‘You look funny,’ said Mummy.
‘I think I want to be sick,’ said Maureen, her eyes holding their fixed, expectant stare.
‘How many chocolates?’
There was still a half-masticated one in the child’s right hand. The eyes now descended towards it in a slow sweep, hesitated for a moment, as if one more bite might be possible before the impending and inevitable disaster, decided against it, and returned to her mother. ‘I think I ate twenty,’ said Maureen, ‘not counting the little ones.’
‘I’m not surprised you feel sick,’ said Julia.
‘Well, you see,’ said Maureen by way of explanation, ‘the big ones are empty ones — I mean, there’s nothing much inside. I mean to say, they’re just held together by the chocolate on the outside. So I thought, what with there being nothing but juice in the middle…’ She broke off, as if the complexity of the explanation was too much for her. ‘But I was wrong!’ she finished unhappily.
Julia wasn’t certain which would happen first — the tears or the vomiting. She decided to take no chances. ‘The bathroom,’ she said simply.
Maureen nodded with great understanding, then bolted for the door.
When she came back a few minutes later, she was beaming.
‘What happened to the half-finished sweet you had in your hand?’ demanded Julia.
‘Oh, I ate it,’ explained the child blandly. ‘I’m hungry again now.’
‘I thought you were going to bed?’
John had returned from the dark-room, blinking in the strong light.
Julia said: ‘I’m just going. I thought I’d have a cup of tea first.’
‘Good idea.’ John was holding some printing paper. He peered at it now.
‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Julia, handing him a cup.
‘In a way I have. Did you take any of these glosses out of the packet?’
She looked at him blankly. ‘No. Why on earth should I? Anyway, it was a new packet, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it hadn’t been opened.’
‘That’s what I thought. But could any liquid have got into the packet — acid, for instance?’
‘Of course not! Just tins of food, that’s all I keep in there. None of them were open, even.’ She was slightly impatient. ‘What’s all this about ghosts, anyway?’
He showed her one of the prints. ‘They’re all like that,’ he said; ‘only the top one is the worst. Take a look!’
She gazed at it for a few moments and shrugged. ‘Obviously it’s been damaged,’ she said non-committally. ‘I’ve long since ceased to be surprised to find things damaged on delivery. You’d better send the packet back to the makers.’
John stared at the print now that his eyes were adjusted to the bright light. In the middle of the paper there was a black patch, perfectly round, about 2 1/2 in. in diameter. All the way round the circle was a dark halo, not quite as black as the rest. The black blob looked startling and somehow devilish against the clear white background of the rest of the print. It reminded him of a photograph of a solar eclipse, only the image was clearer and more uniform.