Read Online Binscombe Tales - The Complete Series by John Whitbourn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Whitbourn
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time to time. Lines of the car’s interior shape disappeared out of sight behind the figure as they would do with a real person. The shadows which partly covered her and mercifully hid half of her face consistently affected the surroundings as well.
At present our technology can record events, but not the emotions which accompanied them. To me, however, this photograph somehow made the necessary leap into the far future and faithfully evoked a sense of malevolence that had come unbidden into what should have been a happy scene. From the various expressions of my fellow patrons in the Argyll I could see that I was not alone in feeling this.
‘Of course it’s a trick of the light,’ the landlord continued. ‘It’s something to do with the peculiar effects of the sunset, I expect.’
He smiled reassuringly at the young couple but though they mustered a friendly expression in return it was plain that they were unconvinced.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll prove it to you. Lottie, go and get the camera please. The rest of you follow me.’
His wife went off to do as she was asked and we all obediently shambled after him as he came round the bar and headed for the door.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Trevor.
‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ the landlord replied. ‘If there is something in the car then it’ll show up again. If there isn’t and it was just a one-off freak effect, then all a photo will show is a car. Simple as that, isn’t it? I’ve got a Polaroid so we’ll know straight away. Where’s Lottie got to?’
The landlady came forward and gave him the camera. We all assembled in the pub forecourt and congregated in a circle round the Jones’s car. Passers-by, commuters home from London, looked furtively at this strange gathering in a car park but did not slow their onward rush in order to see its outcome.
‘People hurry their lives away, don’t they,’ said Mr Disvan observing them sadly.
‘Sunday drinkers,’ remarked the landlord in a disparaging tone concurring, as always, with Disvan. ‘Anyway, never mind them; let’s get this business sorted out.’
He whipped the camera to his face and snapped off a rapid picture in the car’s general direction. A few seconds later the print began to emerge slowly from the camera’s base.
‘You’ve got to allow a minute or so for it to develop. Keep your fingers crossed.’
An air of anticipation grew as we looked from camera to car and back again, all of us doubtless wondering if an unseen passenger in the car was similarly observing us. This thought provoked uncomfortable sensations and silence fell. Trevor and Tania exchanged hopeful glances, although the former tried to appear reassuringly confident.
At last the landlord ripped off the black protective covering from the picture and scrutinised it closely. Instantly his jaw sagged and his eyes widened. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Oh no!’
‘What is it? What is it?’ shouted Trevor. Tania looked sidelong and fearfully at the car.
‘Nothing, just a picture of a car,’ said the landlord, smiling and in his normal voice now. ‘I was just having you on. See for yourself.’
Trevor almost snatched the photograph from him and gave it his undivided attention. A smile then similarly spread across his face and the still sticky picture was passed around the group. As the landlord had said, all it showed was an unremarkable, quite unoccupied yellow Ford Fiesta.
‘Praise be,’ said Tania.
‘A trick of the light, like I said,’ the landlord concluded, pleased with the obvious triumph of his theory. ‘Look, I’ll prove it to you further. Someone go and get Lenin from behind the bar.’
Mr Disvan, who liked animals, went to fetch said Alsatian and soon returned with him trotting obediently by his side.
‘Okay,’ our master of ceremonies continued, ‘now, as you all know, it’s said that dumb animals can sense wrongness and see things that we don’t see. Is that not
At present our technology can record events, but not the emotions which accompanied them. To me, however, this photograph somehow made the necessary leap into the far future and faithfully evoked a sense of malevolence that had come unbidden into what should have been a happy scene. From the various expressions of my fellow patrons in the Argyll I could see that I was not alone in feeling this.
‘Of course it’s a trick of the light,’ the landlord continued. ‘It’s something to do with the peculiar effects of the sunset, I expect.’
He smiled reassuringly at the young couple but though they mustered a friendly expression in return it was plain that they were unconvinced.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll prove it to you. Lottie, go and get the camera please. The rest of you follow me.’
His wife went off to do as she was asked and we all obediently shambled after him as he came round the bar and headed for the door.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Trevor.
‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ the landlord replied. ‘If there is something in the car then it’ll show up again. If there isn’t and it was just a one-off freak effect, then all a photo will show is a car. Simple as that, isn’t it? I’ve got a Polaroid so we’ll know straight away. Where’s Lottie got to?’
The landlady came forward and gave him the camera. We all assembled in the pub forecourt and congregated in a circle round the Jones’s car. Passers-by, commuters home from London, looked furtively at this strange gathering in a car park but did not slow their onward rush in order to see its outcome.
‘People hurry their lives away, don’t they,’ said Mr Disvan observing them sadly.
‘Sunday drinkers,’ remarked the landlord in a disparaging tone concurring, as always, with Disvan. ‘Anyway, never mind them; let’s get this business sorted out.’
He whipped the camera to his face and snapped off a rapid picture in the car’s general direction. A few seconds later the print began to emerge slowly from the camera’s base.
‘You’ve got to allow a minute or so for it to develop. Keep your fingers crossed.’
An air of anticipation grew as we looked from camera to car and back again, all of us doubtless wondering if an unseen passenger in the car was similarly observing us. This thought provoked uncomfortable sensations and silence fell. Trevor and Tania exchanged hopeful glances, although the former tried to appear reassuringly confident.
At last the landlord ripped off the black protective covering from the picture and scrutinised it closely. Instantly his jaw sagged and his eyes widened. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Oh no!’
‘What is it? What is it?’ shouted Trevor. Tania looked sidelong and fearfully at the car.
‘Nothing, just a picture of a car,’ said the landlord, smiling and in his normal voice now. ‘I was just having you on. See for yourself.’
Trevor almost snatched the photograph from him and gave it his undivided attention. A smile then similarly spread across his face and the still sticky picture was passed around the group. As the landlord had said, all it showed was an unremarkable, quite unoccupied yellow Ford Fiesta.
‘Praise be,’ said Tania.
‘A trick of the light, like I said,’ the landlord concluded, pleased with the obvious triumph of his theory. ‘Look, I’ll prove it to you further. Someone go and get Lenin from behind the bar.’
Mr Disvan, who liked animals, went to fetch said Alsatian and soon returned with him trotting obediently by his side.
‘Okay,’ our master of ceremonies continued, ‘now, as you all know, it’s said that dumb animals can sense wrongness and see things that we don’t see. Is that not
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