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I’d always left it to Danielle to record our happier moments. This made her cross
and reduced the number of pictures that she took. Bloody thing. The only times it
had given me any pleasure was when Danielle and I were drunk and would waste time
taking stupid close-ups of each other pulling faces and faking “surprise” or “shock”
or whichever emotion the photographer demanded. Our only rule was that the expression
had to begin with an “S”. All very silly and all very good fun when you are in love.
But, all very silly and all very sad when you can’t imagine ever feeling that way
again.
I switched it on and was encouraged by the way that it self-focused with a whir of
a quiet motor. None of the icons on the LCD screen were flashing which I took to
be a good sign. I pointed it at, and then away from, the window. Recollections of
Danielle barking “imagine an aperture” came flooding back. How could “imagining”
anything improve what would invariably be a bad picture?
I jabbed at the menu button and scrolled through a never-ending set of drop-downs.
I could guess the purpose of most of the options, but I did not dare to change any
of them. At last, a camera that really does capture real life.
I set everything to “Auto” and withdrew from the labyrinth. This would have to do.
I panned round the bedroom and the bed came in to view. The image became crisp. Steady.
Aim. Fire. There was a reassuringly quick “tuck-tush”. The number “19” flashed and
then stopped. Nineteen taken, or nineteen left? I took a shot of the iron and answered
my question. Eighteen shots would be enough to capture the Beast of Oxford. Next,
I needed the tripod.
My eyes took a few moments to accustom themselves to the gloom of the loft. It was
not totally black because the roofs of these old houses do not have the luxury of
a lining, and chinks of light come through the slates. In addition, there were narrow
shafts of light coming from the very top of the wall that separated me from Cat-woman.
I went across and listened. There was no noise. She had left her loft-light on. I
took a chance and pushed my head against the angle of the rafters.
