Zigzag Effect

by Lili Wilkinson

  He stood up and left the room. Sage heard the front door close, and burst into tears.

  She decided to head to the photography studio to develop her photos. She needed to be doing something, to take her mind off the awfulness of her encounter with Herb. Learning how to use the developing equipment seemed like a good distraction.

  As soon as she entered the studio, Sage felt calmer. The moody red lighting and the wet tang of developing chemicals felt familiar, even though she only had a few hours of previous darkroom experience. There was nobody else in the darkroom. Sage was glad – it meant nobody could judge her inexperience. After thoroughly examining the printout that Yoshi Lear had provided the class, she switched off the lights and hummed along to an old Beatles song on the radio as she wound the film onto a spool. Sage had never been afraid of the dark – it was welcoming, like being wrapped in a blanket. Her fingers seemed to know exactly how to wind the film. She felt as though she’d finally found a home here in the cold, unfamiliar city.

  The way she saw it, there were three possibilities. The first was that Herb had somehow done away with Armand. He was definitely ambitious, and if the story about the mice was anything to go by, he could get pretty crazy when he was angry. Maybe Herb had kidnapped Armand (or worse!) and all the rest of it – the creepy letters, the mysterious noises and falling light – was just misdirection, to throw Sage and Bianca off the scent. Bianca was so caught up in her superstitions that she refused to even accept the possibility that Herb might be behind it all.

  She clicked the spool into its special tank and screwed on the top before switching on the lights. She poured in developing fluid and set an egg timer for four minutes, lightly tapping the tank on the bench to dislodge any air bubbles.

  But that didn’t explain her dream. If Sage’s dream had been her subconscious mind telling her that Herb was the culprit, why had there been a sprig of jasmine at the end? She hadn’t known that Renaldo the Remarkable’s wife and assistant was called Jasmine. There had been the incident with the scent of jasmine a few days earlier, but she hadn’t recognised it, so why would her subconscious include that in her dream?

  And why would Herb sabotage his own trick? She remembered how outraged he’d been at Jason Jones’s show, when Jason had used an audience member as an instant stooge. Herb’s self-righteous indignation couldn’t have been faked, could it? He wasn’t a cheater. She felt sure of it.

  The egg timer ticked away. Sage turned the tank upside down four times at the beginning of every minute. The timer finally chirped, and Sage poured out the developer and replaced it with the stop chemical, slowly turning the tank over and over for thirty seconds before pouring the stop bath back into its container.

  So the second possibility had to be that Bianca was right. The theatre really was haunted by the angry ghost of a dead magician’s wife. Sage shivered and thought of the photo sitting in her folder. The dream had felt so real, despite the fuzzy edges. And although lots of Bianca’s superstitions seemed over the top, sometimes she made a lot of sense. But then, what did the ghost want? Was it angry because they had broken a wand on the stage? Or was it something else? Something else that they’d done? Something that Armand had done?

  Sage added fixer to the tank and set the timer for three minutes.

  Then there was the third possibility. Jason Jones. What if he had stolen Herb’s trick? What if he had kidnapped Armand and made it look like it was Herb, so he could sneak in and steal all of Herb’s tricks while Herb was busy defending his innocence? He’d practically confessed that he’d stolen Armand’s ideas all those years ago. Jason was definitely a creep, and seemed to be trying to steal Herb’s ideas. But Sage didn’t want to believe that he was behind everything. Because if he was, then she had to face the very real possibility that Bianca was in on it too.

  It was difficult to think about. Bianca was the only friend that Sage had in Melbourne, except for Herb, and things with Herb were … complicated. She could have forgiven him for standing her up, but after hearing the story of the dead mice, she was pretty sure Herb was not the kind of guy she wanted to get involved with.

  More involved with.

  But Bianca couldn’t possibly know what Jason was up to. She’d been so upset when she’d confessed that she’d ruined Herb’s chances at a solo spot before, Sage couldn’t believe that she’d do it again. And anyway, Bianca knew that Herb and Sage were close. She’d never risk exposing herself to Sage if she had more to hide.

  Pouring out the fixer, Sage turned the tap on to rinse the film. Unscrewing the lid of the tank, she pulled out the spool and held the film up to the light, a tingle of excitement in her stomach. It was something she’d never felt with digital photography. Sage could immediately see how her photos had turned out with her digital camera, which was very useful. But it didn’t have the mystery of real film – that moment of excitement when hidden images were finally revealed.

  Sage smiled for what felt like the first time in days. There were some good shots. Maybe even some great shots. She hoped Yoshi would like them.

  She gently blowdried the film, and cut it into strips of six frames. Then she selected six negatives, and loaded the first into the enlarger and focused it using a sheet of scrap paper. Then she turned out the light, placed a sheet of photographic paper under the enlarger and exposed it for twenty seconds before placing it in the chemical bath.

  As the image started to take form on the photo paper, Sage felt a kind of aching in her heart. It was Herb, looking directly down the barrel of the camera. It was as if he were there, with her in the darkroom, looking right at her. His goofy smile spread wide across his face, and his eyes were soft and warm. It was the look he got just before he kissed her. It was a look that said You. I choose you.

  Take a photo that tells a lie.

  Sage felt something bitter twist in her stomach. The photo was fully developed now. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch Herb’s face. She bit her lip instead, leaving the photo in the chemical bath as the image grew darker and darker. Even if he was telling the truth about Jason Jones stealing his idea, it didn’t change the rest of it. He’d still stood her up. He’d still killed those mice.

  The photo finally turned black, erasing all traces of Herb’s face. Sage lifted it out of the bath and threw it in the bin.

  A few hours later, Sage had a stack of about fifteen finished, printed photos that she was happy with. Better than happy. They were brilliant, really. Moody, with dark shadows and feathery outlines. Discarded sequins glittered on Bianca’s dressing table. Little pots and bottles of makeup and perfume reflecting themselves in the mirror. A lipstick print around the rim of a water glass. One of Warren loping down the corridor, dragging a silk scarf. One of the storeroom, the light from the grate coming down in dusty shafts.

  Sage shivered as she suddenly remembered the feeling of Herb next to her, his hands in her hair, his mouth on hers. She smelled his scent and tasted his skin. She closed her eyes, remembering everything.

  ‘Very nice.’

  Sage jumped and spun around to see the black-rimmed glasses of Yoshi Lear. ‘Oh!’ she said, shaken. ‘Um. Thank you.’

  ‘Are these for your assignment?’ he asked, picking up a photo of Armand and examining it carefully.

  ‘They were supposed to be,’ said Sage. ‘But none of them fit the brief. I thought a magic show would be the perfect place to take a photo that was a lie, but it’s harder than I imagined.’

  ‘How so?’

  Sage chewed her bottom lip, trying to figure out how to explain it. ‘A magic trick has two stages,’ she said at last. ‘The top hat is empty, and now it contains a rabbit. A lady climbs inside a box, now she’s gone. If you just took a photo of the rabbit, or the empty box, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t become magic until you’ve seen the before and the after.’

  Yoshi smiled, but said nothing.

  ‘I suppose I could take a double exposure – oh!’ Sage clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘The
fairy photo you showed us – the last one. It was a double exposure, wasn’t it? That was why Elsie and Frances both claimed to have taken the photo. Frances took a photo of the flowery grass, and Elsie took another fairy photo using the same glass negative. That’s why it looks all misty and translucent.’

  Yoshi’s smile widened.

  ‘They set out to fool everyone,’ said Sage thoughtfully. ‘But they ended up fooling themselves.’

  ‘Photography can be tricky like that,’ said Yoshi. ‘Just because you took the photo doesn’t mean that you know its secrets.’

  Sage thought about the ghost photo in her folder and wondered if she should show it to Yoshi.

  ‘Do you know if anyone’s ever taken a photo of a ghost?’ she asked.

  Yoshi Lear raised an eyebrow. ‘Lots of people have taken photos of what they claim are ghosts,’ he said. ‘Our old friend Arthur Conan Doyle was a big believer in spirit photography.’

  ‘But are any of them genuine?’

  Yoshi reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out an iPad. He brought up a series of photos and showed them to Sage. One was of a transparent woman on a staircase. Another showed a ghostly figure at a railway crossing. The next photo showed a little girl staring out the window of a burning building.

  ‘Some of these can look convincing,’ said Yoshi.

  Sage stared at the little girl’s face. She was wearing a long white dress, and her expression was solemn. ‘What’s the explanation?’ she asked. ‘Is it a double exposure too?’

  Yoshi shook his head. ‘This one was proven to be a hoax,’ he said. ‘Someone discovered a postcard with the same photo of the little girl. I suspect the one on the staircase is a double exposure, though. The railway crossing ghost is just a lens flare, or the flash bouncing off dust or moisture in the air.’

  Sage remembered Herb saying something similar.

  ‘Look at this one,’ said Yoshi, swiping to a new photo.

  It was a black-and-white photo of an old building. Steps led up to a series of pillars. Someone had photoshopped a circle next to one of the pillars, showing a shadowy, transparent figure. Sage frowned. The photo was blurry and had obviously been magnified.

  ‘Now unfocus your eyes,’ said Yoshi. ‘Blur the picture even more.’

  Sage did as he instructed, and the blurry figure vanished. She had a sudden flashback to Herb showing her a power plug. ‘It’s just shadows,’ she said. ‘Just the way the light happens to fall. We only see a figure there because we’re conditioned to make patterns and recognise human shapes. It’s called pareidolia.’

  Yoshi looked impressed, and Sage felt ridiculously pleased.

  ‘So you don’t think anyone has ever taken a real picture of a ghost?’

  ‘No,’ said Yoshi. ‘Although given I don’t believe in ghosts, I may be a little biased.’

  Sage raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t believe in ghosts, but you still have a whole album of ghost photos on your iPad?’

  Yoshi laughed. ‘I don’t believe in them,’ he said. ‘But I’m still very interested. Especially when it comes to photography.’

  Sage hesitated for a moment, then pulled the ghost photo from her folder. ‘What do you think of this?’

  Yoshi took the photo and examined it carefully. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured. ‘I can see why you think it might be ghostly. Those arms reaching out and up are very emotive. Like a supplicant begging for mercy.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Sage. ‘Surely it’s too complex a shape to be a lens flare.’

  Yoshi nodded. ‘It is,’ he said. ‘And this is clearly a longish exposure, because of the low light. A few seconds?’

  ‘Two,’ said Sage.

  ‘So there’s something moving in this photo. I can see no evidence of digital manipulation, and I’m pretty good at spotting that kind of thing. I’m confident that you didn’t try to fake this image, nor is it some kind of accidental effect caused by the camera’s mechanisms.’

  Sage swallowed, her heart pounding. ‘So you think it’s genuine?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a genuine photo,’ said Yoshi. ‘But it’s not of a ghost. Look again at those arms. They don’t really look like arms at all, do they? They look more like … ’

  The white spectral shape seemed to shift and refocus as Sage looked at it, and her heart sank.

  ‘Ears,’ she said. ‘They look like ears. It’s Warren. He’s a rabbit. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.’

  The image was blurred due to the long exposure, but now that Sage looked at it it was impossible not to see it as Warren, loping across the stage, his ears flopping over his face. Not arms at all. Sage felt like a total idiot.

  Yoshi glanced at his watch and put away his iPad. ‘I have to go. You’re a good photographer,’ he said, as he reached for the doorhandle. ‘But you need to look harder, with an unbiased eye.’

  ‘I will,’ Sage promised.

  Yoshi smiled. ‘For example, now that you’ve solved the mystery of the ghostly rabbit, perhaps turn your attention to the figure standing behind the stage curtain.’

  The door banged behind him as Sage looked back at the photo. Yoshi was right. She’d been so busy looking at the Warren-ghost-shape that she’d totally missed it. In the top right-hand corner of the photo, there was a blurred figure. It was difficult to make out, but Sage was almost certain she could see a pale face and long black hair.

  It was the ghost from her dream. The ghost of Jasmine, Renaldo’s wife.

  15. The Sucker Effect: the spectator is wrongly led to believe they have guessed the secret behind a magic trick.

  ‘Abracadabra!’ hollered Zacky, brandishing his wand.

  The other patrons on the bus turned and stared. ‘How about we play being quiet magicians?’ Sage suggested.

  Zacky gave her a dark look. ‘You need to do the pose.’

  ‘What pose?’

  ‘The assistant pose. That’s what the assistant does. She does the pose after the magician does the trick.’ Zacky demonstrated by sticking one hand on his hip, and waving the other in a flamboyant flourish.

  Sage frowned. ‘She does a lot more than that. Most of the tricks don’t work without the assistant.’

  Zacky dismissed this comment with a wave of his wand. ‘Just do the pose.’

  They were nearing their stop. ‘How about I be the magician?’ suggested Sage. ‘And you be the assistant?’

  Zacky laughed incredulously. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘Girls can’t be magicians.’

  The bus hissed to a stop and Sage bundled Zacky down the steps, apologising to an old lady he accidentally poked with his wand.

  ‘Of course girls can be magicians,’ she said once they were on the footpath. ‘What about Hermione?’

  ‘Hermione is a witch,’ said Zacky. ‘Girls can be witches. But not wizards or magicians.’

  Sage frowned, but decided not to pursue the conversation any further.

  The theatre was quiet when they entered – there was no sign of Bianca or Herb. She didn’t even know if the show was still on, after the disaster of Houdini’s Return. But she hadn’t heard otherwise from Bianca or Herb, so she turned up anyway. She looked towards the corner of the stage where the ghost had appeared in her photo, and her skin prickled into goosebumps.

  As she led Zacky down the corridor to her office, Bianca emerged from her dressing-room, wearing her sparkly outfit under her cotton robe.

  ‘Hey,’ said Sage. ‘You’re back!’

  Bianca grinned, and did a little twirl. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Doctor says as long as I’m careful, I should be fine.’

  ‘And those shoes are your definition of careful?’

  ‘Well, it’s not like I can wear this outfit with flats,’ said Bianca with a shrug. She spotted Zacky and beamed at him. ‘This must be Zacky!’

  Zacky came over all shy and hid behind Sage, who rolled her eyes at Bianca. ‘He’s just star-struck,’ she said. ‘You won’t be able to shut him up soon.’

>   ‘Really?’ Bianca twinkled at Zacky. ‘I look forward to that.’

  ‘No Herb?’ Sage looked around.

  Bianca shook her head. ‘He’s running late,’ she said. ‘But I talked to him this morning. We’ve figured out a new running order. Going for something a little more reserved for the finale. I think he’s still really shaken up.’

  Sage remembered the stricken expression on Herb’s face when he’d turned up at her door that morning. She wondered if he’d told Bianca about Jason Jones.

  ‘W-where is The Great Armand?’ asked Zacky, peering out from behind Sage.

  Bianca bobbed down so she was at eye-level with Zacky. ‘He’s on holiday,’ she said. ‘But Herb is doing an excellent job as the magician.’

  She turned her face up to Sage, and they shared a significant look.

  Suddenly, one of the elastic straps that held up Bianca’s costume snapped with a twang.

  ‘Damn,’ said Bianca, grabbing at the strap with one hand and her costume with the other. ‘I blame Mr Pham. I’ve been pigging out all week.’

  Zacky’s face had gone bright red, and his eyes very round.

  ‘There’re some safety pins in my dressing-room,’ said Bianca. ‘Would you mind …?’

  ‘Of course.’ Sage turned to Zacky. ‘Don’t move,’ she said, and hurried off down the corridor.

  Sage pulled open a drawer and rifled through the contents. It was mostly junk – little bottles of sparkly nail polish, a sewing kit, an empty bottle of perfume, a pack of tarot cards, an old mobile phone. She found the safety pins in a little plastic case, and slipped them into her pocket. Turning to leave, she noticed a large bunch of red roses on Bianca’s dressing table. A white card poked out from the velvety petals. Sage hesitated, then let her curiosity take over, and slipped the card from the flowers.

  You are the most beautiful assistant in the world.

  Be mine.

  JJ

  Bianca had said that she’d never work for Jason Jones. But what if she’d changed her mind? Or what if Jason was trying to force her to change her mind? He’d done away with Armand, and now Herb. Could it be possible that he’d faked all of the ghostly coincidences as well? And sent Bianca those creepy letters? All to force her away from the Lyric Theatre and into his arms?