The assistant raised his voice to let them know the film was ready to run. Gilbert held out his hand to seats close to the middle of the room, and when Sutton had taken a place beside Maisie, the wall lights were extinguished. The screen in front of them seemed to splutter into life, and a series of numbers counted down until a rough board was shown. It read: "France, cartographers," along with a date that Maisie could not discern. The screen became black for a moment, until a grainy image flickered into life, of men carrying equipment across the mud and through barbed wire. The film rendered their movements jerky, unstable, and as they set up their tools, Maisie thought they looked rather like doomed marionettes, and though she could not tell whether it was a fair day or foul, the gray cloudless background gave the impression of cold, a day when the wet damp of France in wartime could bore into the bone. She shivered.
The camera came closer, and the men looked up and were brought into greater focus. There was a moment of camaraderie, when they stood with arms about each other's shoulders, like a rugby team preparing for the season's photograph. Then the cameraman must have drawn back, because they continued with their work again, squinting through an eyeglass, one man making notes while another took measurements. Again the camera moved in closer, then seemed to sweep across the landscape. In the background, the projector whirled and chattered as the film continued. Maisie half closed her eyes in a squint, searching for a face she knew.
The camera came back to the unit, and once again moved closer to the men. At that moment, one of the men began laughing, and it seemed he elbowed his comrade in a playful gesture. The other soldier laughed, and gave him a shove, and the first soldier, who Maisie could now see was an officer, pushed back his helmet to rub his forehead.
"Can you stop there?" Maisie called out.
"Stop!" Gilbert's voice carried well, and the film stopped mid-frame. "Run it back to the soldier moving his helmet."
The stick figures moved backward at speed, then the frame was frozen for a moment and began running again.
"There!"
"Stop!"
"Is that the American you remember, Henry?"
Gilbert nodded. "Yes, that's him."
Maisie waited a moment, trying to match the image on the screen with the photograph she had already seen.
"Shall we continue?"
She nodded. "Yes, thank you. Go on."
Henry called out to his assistant, and the cine film began rolling again, and soon it was clear that during the filming, shellfire was coming closer, as the earth seemed to explode in the background. The camera had caught the men hurrying to pack up their equipment before running for cover, and as their movements became faster, so the images became almost unwatchable; in that moment, the men seemed like clowns at the circus, running back and forth in an attempt to protect their equipment and themselves. The screen changed to black, and the countdown of numbers signaled the end of the reel.
"There's another with that same unit, Maisie. Want to watch it?"
"Of course, yes."
Ben, Maisie, and Henry Gilbert were silent while they waited, and soon the assistant called out once more that the film was about to start. A series of numbers filled the screen, then nothing but black, then a board with the date and location. This time the men of the unit were outside what seemed to be a farmhouse or a barn. With stilted movements, they were checking kit and preparing their packs for another expedition onto the battlefield. Maisie wished she could lip-read so that she might know what they were saying to each other, and she wondered whether their conversation was about the job at hand, a night out in the village, or their last leave. There was another second of black screen, and when it cleared, the camera had been brought in closer, and this time Maisie could see Michael Clifton clearly. He was laughing with the man next to him. The camera pulled back, and another man, an officer, came into view. The man was carrying a baton under his arm, and seemed to walk in that same matchstick-man manner, but he was evidently a more senior officer. He appeared to be taking the men to task, then looked around and came towards the camera, waving his baton. The screen went black, followed by a series of numbers.
"Do you remember that last incident?" Maisie turned in her chair as Gilbert stepped towards the light switch.
"I do indeed. Can't remember the man's name, but he was a bit of a killjoy. Waved his stick at me and threatened to put my camera into the mud. He should have tried it! Anyway, you don't forget those incidents. Mind you, they're not that unusual in my line of work, but rather unsettling when it's a man in a uniform threatening you."
She stood up and smiled, holding out her hand. "Thank you so much for your valuable time, Henry. It was kind of you to do this."
"I owe Ben a favor or two," said Gilbert, as he shook her hand. "So this helped me pay down my debt."
They turned to leave, and as the trio made their way to the front door, Maisie turned to Gilbert. "I know you said that you don't remember everyone, but you must have become somewhat familiar with that unit; you mentioned that for a short time you lived alongside some of the soldiers you filmed."
"As I said, you try not to get too close, for the sake of objectivity. But yes, I sort of took to that little group, though the American is the one who sticks out most."
"Do you recall any conversations between the men?"
"That would be a tall order, Maisie," Sutton interjected.
"I know, but-"
"The boys teased the American, but he could give it back to them, and it was all in good heart, from what I can recall. There was one sapper who mentioned that he-the American-was a man of some extensive property, out in California. And he teased him about his girl-she'd broken it off, but he was convinced the American wasn't wanting for female company when he was on leave. He'd not long returned from a few days away. Mind you, a handsome young fellow like that-can't imagine him spending much time alone when he was off duty." He laughed. "Anyway, as I said, it was all a long time ago now. I might have it wrong, and it could have been the other way around-you know, the other fellow on leave, that sort of thing. I'm really interested in the image in front of the camera, not the subject's private life."
Maisie nodded.
After more good-byes, and some final conversation, Maisie and Sutton left and stood outside the house.
"Ready for a bite to eat?"
"Ben." Maisie smiled. "Would you forgive me if I decline your offer of lunch? It's a bit early for me in any case-that didn't take as long as I thought, and I have so much to do today. Watching your friend's films has given me a lot of food for thought."
Sutton nodded. "I'll hold you to our lunch another time-or perhaps you'd come with me to the theater, and supper afterward?"
"What a lovely idea, thank you. And I do appreciate your understanding, especially as it was so good of you to cash in a favor on my behalf. Oh, and Ben, may I trust you to keep what we have seen today to yourself-just for a while."
"I'll not tell a soul, and I'll make sure Henry knows too. And cashing in the favor was my pleasure, Maisie." He smiled. "There weren't that many men doing what Henry was doing out in France, so I had an idea you might be in luck with his film. Serendipity, eh?" He smiled. "Anyway, I hope I'll see you again soon. May I walk you to the tube, madam?"
They said good-bye at the underground station, and Maisie waved as she made her way down the steps and around a corner out of view. She waited a few moments until she was sure Sutton had left, then retraced her steps to Henry Gilbert's house and knocked on the door. When his assistant opened the door, Maisie asked if she could see Mr. Gilbert for just a moment.