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Chapter 2 - Angel of the South

The early evening dragged its way to nine o’clock. I had nothing to do and nobody to call. This was the longest holiday I’d ever had and it had only just begun.

At nine-thirty I put the final touches to the trap and learnt that there was yet more to photography than “Auto”. The icons on the LCD flashed like the world was under threat of attack. That, or it was getting dark. Great.

I wished that I had hidden Danielle’s flash. I should have been more petty. Damn my reasonableness. What could I use instead? A flare? Don’t be stupid. Car headlights? I used to have two of those but they were still attached to “our” car that Danielle had taken with her. Halogen lamps? Yes. I had one of those. We’d bought it to illuminate a mid-summer garden party. It had done this admirably, and it had blinded most of the guests and attracted every moth and mosquito in Europe. The only positive was that it  got hellishly hot and scorched the baggy trousers of a badly-dressed English teacher.

One of the reasons that the lamp had been cheap (apart from being dangerous) was that it had a ridiculously short flex. If it were to sit on the bedroom windowsill, I would need an extension lead. There was one in the loft with the guitar leads. I would have to go up there again. The novelty of capturing my visitor had worn thin.

I brought down the four useful items – the guitar, the amp, a bag of leads and the teach-yourself books. I put them in the bedroom then returned to get the boxes of Danielle’s schoolbooks and folders. One-by-one I placed them outside the backdoor. They weren’t mine, but I had the right to throw them away. And, it gave me pleasure to do so.

Back in the bedroom I pulled the desk to beneath the window and arranged the lamp and a chair around the tripod. After a few minor adjustments I could see the garden whilst sitting in the chair with my finger on the shutter release. I stretched-out my leg and placed my big toe on the socket switch.