Ghostly Images (12 page)

“Tate then goes on about how he’s read stories in the newspapers and journals about William Mumler, the celebrated American spirit photographer Mrs Jenkins scolded you about not knowing. Tate’s sceptical but willing to exploit the idea of making money with spirit photography.”

David, choosing to ignore John’s dig, sighed. “John, apart from Tate’s ‘discovery’ on how a so-called ghost can appear in a photograph, this is nothing new. Leave it alone and let me go for a swim!”

“I’m coming to it!” John argued and flipped through more pages. “1880 was an eventful year for Tate. Not only does he become a successful fake spirit photographer, but also by late November, his wife had died, and now he’s interested in finding out if there’s any truth behind it. He mentions Mumler’s idea about photographic plates being sensitive to ultraviolet light, but Tate goes much further. He thinks that spirits are able to
reflect
ultraviolet light and that
all
cameras can capture these spirits if they have a carefully designed lens
and
use the right process. He studies his other photographs and starts seeing strange anomalies that could be images of dead friends and relatives. On 17
th
December, he asks Mr Jenkins for a second opinion.

“‘
With some trepidation—or should I say stupidity—I invited Gareth Jenkins to my new home at Windsor Terrace. He came with his wife. I showed him my photographs, which he inspected with a magnifying glass. He was rude and sarcastic about spirit photography and said that I was a crook with no conscience—and a drunk! I wanted to strike the sour-faced Methodist, but his wife’s charming smile calmed me. She reminds me so much of Sophie. She was sympathetic about my loss and appeared receptive to the idea of spirit photography, much to her husband’s dismay. After they left, I thought of taking solace in the bottle yet again but resisted when an idea suddenly flashed into my mind. I will build a handmade camera that will conclusively prove the existence of psychic phenomenon even to obstinate, pig-ignorant characters like Gareth Jenkins
.’”

“John,” groaned David, “Mrs Jenkins already told us that she and Tate were good acquaintances. I don’t like hearing those comments he makes about Mr Jenkins. I really wish you would get to your point. My head is killing me!” David closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He opened his eyes again to see John smiling like a cat full of cream. “OK. You have teased me long enough. What have you found?”

“Mrs Jenkins never mentioned it...but there are—or were—
two
Tate cameras.”

“What?” David exclaimed, and John rocked on his heels in satisfaction.

“I’ll continue reading, shall I?” He took a seat and resumed. “‘
14
th
March 1881. My prototype handmade camera showed promise but results are inconsistent. Rather than throwing it away, I’ve decided to place it in my attic in case I needed any spare parts
.’”

“Well, I hope he made good on his word,” David groused. “The last thing we need is another Tate camera lying around, waiting to be found.”

John ignored the outburst. “By July 1881, Tate had completed his second camera and fitted it with the lens, saying, ‘
I gave extra care in the preparation of the lens. Rather than the thin lenses that manufacturers would use, I crafted a lens with some help from a spectacle maker in which I sandwiched thinner lenses to make a thicker one. According to all the known principles of optics, it shouldn’t have worked, but I persevered. I’d never believed in God until I started attending the Spiritualist church after Sophie’s death, but I swear a divine hand is guiding me every single step of the way in making this second camera
.’ He then took his first self-portrait with it.”

“Yes? And?” prompted David impatiently.

“The image of Sophie Tate appeared next to him on the photograph.”

“John!” David let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course he’d say that! Tate was a fraud. This really is your last chance to read anything of use from the journal before I head out the door.” To drive his point home, David stood up and made ready to leave. John quickly turned some pages.

“March 1882. Tate started testing the psychic abilities of his camera at both Whitby Cottage Hospital and Sandsend Home for the Aged. He wanted to measure the camera’s ability to predict natural death. After taking nearly three hundred photographs in a span of three months, he concluded that the light of heaven appeared in ninety-eight per cent of cases when photographs are taken within an hour before death. If people could not pay for the photograph, he waived the fee to further his research. He thought the two per cent failure rate was due to technical problems, probably insufficient exposure times—or the possibility they had gone to hell. To achieve success, he surmised that it needed to be at about four seconds, preferably longer.

“He believed the camera was accurate in showing the images of dead relatives and friends in over ninety-six per cent of cases. Again, he theorized the failure rate was due to insufficient exposure times. One drawback, however, was that it was not always the ghost the sitter wanted to see. Tate cites four cases of clients being upset at seeing the image of a detested relative. Tate believed the camera acts like a medium—able to capture the spirits of the departed but having no power of selection. In short, the most powerful spirit will make its presence evident on the photograph.”

“Hmm...” David sat down again. “I haven’t heard of that result before.”

John nodded. “Here’s something else you probably never heard; Tate never claimed the camera could predict a happy marriage or spot an adulterer. Nor does he say anything about arrows pointing or a blurred human hand over those destined to die. There’s no mention of it in his journals, and I’ve read them both.”

“But Hood said—”

“Yes...but Hood
would
say.”

David scratched his chin. “You have a point.”

“What Tate
does
say carries more importance, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tate was rigorous in testing not only what his camera could do, but what it couldn’t do. In fact, he cautioned against placing too much faith into his photographs...something I’m sure you’ll appreciate.” John smirked and put down one journal and picked up the other and opened it at a dog-eared page near the back of the book. “In 1883, Tate took photos at various courthouses throughout Yorkshire, especially during murder trials. He developed a theory about the shadow of the noose and of dark marks pointing to murderers and future victims. His entry from 13
th
May 1883 says: ‘
My theory is the shadow of a noose will appear around the neck of someone who would be caught and hung for murder and the darker the shadow, the nearer his Day of Judgement. The camera is a gateway to the future. This theory rests on a very limited number of photographs I’ve taken where the men have been subsequently hung, though I am very reluctant to admit it being so. Unfortunately, a number of people in Whitby conclude this as being veritable proof. My reluctance stems from the fact that I believe one unfortunate soul, Sean O’Brien, was hung on the basis of one of my photographs. But I can certify that there was no shadow of a noose around this man’s neck. I informed the police—or more specifically, Chief Constable Tanner—of this, but to no avail
.’”

This made David sit up straight.

John continued. “Tate then goes on to build a theory about murder victims. Marks appear on the photograph that correspond to the injury they suffer later.”

“So Hood was wrong again, wasn’t he? He talked about an
arrow-shaped
mark
over
the top of their head.”

John nodded. “According to Tate, if the marks on their body were black, they could be dead within hours or a day. Dark grey, within a week or ten days. If light grey, they could possibly last a few months. Tate claims these shadows might also appear if they are destined to die as a result of an accident. He cites the names and dates of eighteen people whom he photographed either in his studio or on the street.” John closed the journal and set it on the table between them. “See for yourself. You may want to note the names and dates and go to the library and see if you can find mention of it.”

David looked at the closed journal. He had to admit that John had finally revealed some intriguing information and had exposed Hood at his lies. He contemplated going to the library as John suggested but remembered the assistance Rachel Varley had provided. David couldn’t help but think that she would have liked to have done more for him. The thought made him uneasy, especially since she would be in the studio for a portrait on Monday. Another nagging thought came into David’s mind.

“There’s something I don’t quite understand, John. How could Tate go from being a fake spirit photographer to a believer so quickly? People don’t change, do they?”

John glared at him. “People like you don’t but others can.”

“But how could Tate have made such a radical change in so short a time?” persisted David.

“That should be obvious—the death of his wife.”

“I still don’t see what made him come to believe that spirit photography was genuine. Can you explain it?”

“Read
all
the journal entries...and then you’d understand.”

“You’ve read both the journals. You tell me.”

John eagerly complied. “Tate was in a desperate state after the death of his wife and started drinking heavily but that didn’t ease his grief. He was an atheist but started visiting churches hoping to find some comfort. He failed to do so. Finally, he went to a Spiritualist meeting and found what he was searching for. He became a believer.”

“But
why
did he become a believer?”

John shrugged. “On a sinking ship there are no non-believers.”

“He wasn’t on a sinking ship.”

“In a way he was. He was sinking fast after the death of his wife.”

David shook his head. “I can’t see any evidence from what we’ve done to support Tate’s claims.”

“Yesterday, with a magnifying glass, I examined all the plates of the sitters we’ve had. The photograph of Hood and Jack continues to intrigue me. The image is very faint, but there does seem to be a noose around Jack’s neck and dark marks on Hood’s head. Your exposure time was about three seconds. If you’d made it longer, the noose and the marks might have been much clearer.”

“Hood has the only positive print, so how do you know? Aren’t you the first one to admit to difficulties in being able to translate negative images into positive ones?”

John looked David square in the eye. “The beauty of a negative plate is that you can produce an endless supply of positive prints. I made another print from the plate just to make sure.”

David hadn’t anticipated John doing this and forced himself to keep his composure. “I think your imagination is getting the better of you. Even if there were any anomalies in the photograph, it would have a logical, scientific explanation.”

“What about the other photograph?”

“The photograph I took of you was fine!”

“That’s because you used the gelatin-bromide technique and an exposure time of only one second. I’m referring to the photograph of Elizabeth Betts, and you know it!”

Here we go again
, thought David. There was no way he could maintain his composure any longer. His body stiffened, and he raised his voice. “I could tear my hair out listening to you drag up the same topic time after time. I’ve given rational, scientific explanations for this photograph, which I’m not prepared to keep on repeating endlessly.”

“Well, let’s test Tate’s theories by following his techniques for a couple of weeks.”

“It won’t reveal anything psychic, but it will be worth doing if only to show how silly it is and to shut you up.”

“Aren’t scientists supposed to keep an open mind? Couldn’t you try testing Tate’s theories? If no psychic phenomenon is revealed in the next two weeks, I’ll readily admit to you that you are right.”

The tension in David’s body eased. “It’s a deal.”

They shook hands on their agreement.

“You really should look at all the entries in the journal.” John picked up the journal and flicked to a page. “Look at this fascinating diagram showing how he constructed the lens—”

“Put the journal away for now,” David said. John looked crestfallen, so David quickly added, “That is certainly thought-provoking information, John, but my headache is getting worse. I really must go. I’ll make up a batch of plates later.”

“Make sure you follow Tate’s chemical formula in the journal. It’s on the back few pages.”

David nodded. “I will.”

John studied his friend with a look of concern. “Go. I’ll lock up here.”

“Thanks, John. I’ll get the drinks in the next time we’re at The Queen’s Head.” And with that, David left the studio.

Chapter 21

Sunday 2
nd
September 1894

D
AVID
ADJUSTED
THE
SHOULDER
STRAP
of the case containing his camera. He’d thought of going to Scarborough for the day but decided to stay in Whitby and search for scenes to photograph.

He guessed that John would be meeting Laura today. Was he envious of their friendship? He had to admit that was probably true. A pleasant stroll with a pretty, young woman wouldn’t go amiss. He thought of Lucy Shaw and then shook his head. He had no time for romance with his career at stake.

He reached Argument’s Yard and took out his camera. Two ragged and dirty-faced young girls sat on the steps playing with dolls equally ragged and dirty. One of the dolls had an arm missing.

Thirteen
uneven and broken steps lead to the narrow passage into Church Street. To the right of the girls, there was a house with nearly all the panes of glass smashed or broken. He looked up at the roof and saw most of the tiles lost or damaged. The girls’ attention was now on his camera. One of the girls combed her greasy, matted locks with her fingers, wiped her mouth with her arm and smiled, revealing two missing front teeth.