Ghostly Images Read Free Page B

contact with them.
    “They’re in a hurry,” grunted John, sarcastically.
    “They might think one of us is the murderer,” said David.
    John scratched his ear lobe. “Not you. Me .”
    “I suspect they’re apprehensive about any strangers.”
    John was out of breath and stopped walking. A black cat ran past him on the steps, and he grinned. “I still cannot fathom why you took the photograph of the dead kitten on Monday.”
    “The reason should be obvious,” said David sternly.
    “Not to me it isn’t.”
    David groaned inwardly but thought it was best to be clear about his actions. “After the little girl’s kitten got trampled by a horse, I had to give her proof it would go up to heaven. What’s wrong with that?”
    The bankruptcy officials had been due to arrive, and it would have been his last opportunity to use the Jenkins studio. He’d taken the photograph in the morning and had it developed and ready for collection by the woman and her daughter that afternoon. He’d faked the effect of the bright light of heaven by strategically placing card on the plate.
    John looked at David quizzically. “That’s hypocritical. You’ve never believed in God.”
    “I’m a man of science and therefore an atheist , but that doesn’t mean I have no compassion. I wanted to help the little girl,” David mumbled, almost apologetically. His eyes moistened. The little girl had reminded him of his late sister.
    “You could have given her money for sweets.” John persisted.
    “Sweets were the last thing she wanted.”
    “How can you be so sure?”
    “I don’t regret it,” snapped David. “The girl cheered up when I showed her the photograph of her kitten with the heavenly light above its head. And remember, I refused to take any money from the girl’s mother.”
    “You fancied the girl’s mother. That’s why.”
    David snorted. “I didn’t.”
    John chuckled. “You did.”
    “I felt sorry for her daughter.”
    John grinned. “So you didn’t notice the woman’s soft smile and gorgeous blue eyes?”
    “They were brown.”
    “Ha!” John thumped David on the arm. “That proves I’m right.”
    “I think we should get moving. Hood could be gone soon,” said David firmly.
    “I don’t know why we’re going. Can you give me one good reason?”
    “It’ll be hard enough to get work. There’s a glut of photographers in Whitby.”
    “It’s a pity that most are family businesses and won’t employ anyone outside their kin.”
    “And technically, we did not complete our four-year apprenticeships.” David shook his head and grimaced. “I was only five days short. All that time gone—and nothing to show for it!”
    “I was five weeks short,” complained John.
    “So near but yet so far.”
    “Daniel Milner might have given us some work.” John frowned. “He threw us out of his studio in a damn hurry.”
    David had sensed the old photographer was ill and in pain by his deathly pale and anguished features when they’d visited his studio three days earlier in search of work. It reminded him of Mr Jenkins’ pained expression shortly before he died. “I don’t think he meant to be rude. The only photographers we haven’t tried are Frank Meadow Sutcliffe and Byron Marsh.”
    “A distinguished photographer like Sutcliffe wouldn’t employ the likes of us.”
    David sighed and then felt a surge of determination. “I’m not going to abandon photography and go back to be a shipping clerk.”
    “And I don’t want to be a labourer,” said John.
    David saw John rubbing his fingers against the iron hand rail. “It must have been terrible to do such back breaking work.”
    “It’s much more than that. Some things happened.”
    “What happened?” asked David.
    “I don’t want to talk about it.” John’s adamant tone made David glad he hadn’t commented about his friend’s hair colour matching his fiery temper.
    “Maybe Hood can put photographic assignments our way,” David said, knowing