XX.

People gathered at the graveyard. Stuart stood aside, behind a tree, for he didn't want to be seen by Gertrude's family. Rudolph cried and loudly cursed God, while Isabel held her speechless younger sisters close to herself, but at a distance from their father. Isabel had a purplish bruise on her cheek. Rudolph must've lost control over himself in the first wave of distress. If he adds a glass or two a day in his schedule, he'll be ready to join the rest of the despairing gang in the Black Cat.

Men in black, unknown to Stuart, dragged sorrowful husband away from his wife's grave. The crowd moved to the church. Stuart waited until the last person was gone to step out of his hiding place. Gertrude's grave was small, a simple memorial made of polished stone with her name carved in it. Until the last moment, Stuart hoped Rudolph would call him to take the last photo of his wife, but that never happened. Stuart was brimming with suspense, annoyed by his complete ignorance about how would Gertrude's photo turn out.

"You again." Gertrude's daughter's big judging eyes stared at him. Then they looked at the grave and the spirit of the lost child she truly was came to light. "I want her back. Our grandma died two years ago, but granny was old. Mum was young."

"I'm sorry", Stuart whispered, knowing he couldn't console her.

"You should've thought about it earlier", her anger made her seem older than she was. "If that man hadn't kept on visiting her, she wouldn't had gotten sick in the first place!"

"What man?" Stuart knelt next to her. "I swear I know nothing of the man who... visited your mother. But", he came closer to her, "if you tell me who it was, I might find and punish him."

"I don't know his name", the girl shook her head. "Mum wouldn't tell me, but he came over and over again. Dad and Isabel don't believe me, but mum told me. I saw him in her room!"

Start quickly got up. Isabel was running towards them from the church. "You should be in there with the others", he said, although he wanted to question her more. Whether the man Gertrude's daughter spoke about was real or not, the voice the deceased woman used when she addressed him didn't belong to her. She also visited him in a dream, and Stuart figured that dead people appearing in his dreams weren't simply a product of his nervous imagination. He urged the girl to hurry meet Isabel. He wanted to be gone before Gertrude's oldest daughter got an opportunity to talk to him. The girl looked at his eyes once again and said in a deep voice: "One thing I'm sure about is he wanted to get to you, mister. But you ignored him so he turned to my mum. After Lucy died, she often spoke to herself." She spat at his feet. "Should've been you lying underground." She ran to Isabel.

Stuart turned his back on them and quickened his pace. "Perhaps she's right", he mumbled to himself, "perhaps I belong here more than Gertrude. Perhaps I've belonged here for a long time."

After the storm in their relationship calmed once again, Stuart tended to be with Regina at all times. He didn't want to be alone. The nightmares became unbearable. He could hear voices of the past even when he was awake, and at night memories returned to him, mixed with present struggles, causing him headache and distress. He expected to see her at the funeral, even though she gave him no precise reply when he asked her whether she'd come. Since he didn't meet her there, he decided to stop at her place rather than heading straight home. He'd been spending most of his free time there anyway. Once or twice Regina even hinted it wouldn't be a problem to her if he moved in. Disregarding the peculiar discovery in the dark room and a few strange items in the hallway, he felt comfortable there and, the most important thing, he'd never be alone. It'd be nice to have Regina close at all times. She was a sunny sparkle in the darkness he trotted through. Compared to his miserable apartment, Regina's house was luxurious, and he could thought of more than one empty room suitable to be repurposed into a photographing studio.

Through the windows he saw that the house was darkened. He rang, but got no response. Lately he got so used to her company it bothered him that she didn't warn him she'll be out. He looked through the ground floor windows covered with transparent curtains. Perhaps she left him a message. The framed photos normally seen from the outside were inverted. The items covered with sheets which had blocked the hallway were gone. He was glad the scary skull and the stuffed bird were out of sight, but what made Regina move now?

He rang once again, but to no avail. He walked up and down the street for a few minutes, considering how to find her. He came up with an idea that she might be inside, that something might've happened to her. She might have decided to clean the place and fell...

Or she discovered something unexpected in the cellar and suffered a fatal shock.

"Regina!", he called out, knocking on the door. Loud noises attracted neighbours' attention. The audience gathered on the balconies or looked at him through the windows. An old lady disturbed by his yelling asked him to stop, but Stuart didn't mind her. Worried mothers pulled their children who were leaning over the widows and cautioned him to stop or they'd call the police.

Suddenly, the door opened. Stuart stopped in the last moment before his hand hit Regina's chest. "What the hell are you doing?", she hissed at him. "Come inside before someone calls a constable!"

"Where'd you put all the stuff?", he asked. Now that all the things were gone, he realized how spacious Regina's house truly was. He could imagine a real bourgeois ball taking place in it, just like the ones his mother used to attend.

"I removed it", she answered simply.

"You weren't at the funeral", Stuart said after decoding the expectation of explanation on her face. "And I didn't want to be alone at home, so I came here..."

"You know you're always welcome, Stuart, but I have some things to deal with by myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "What, cleaning? I could help. After all, you keep helping me at the studio, that's the least I can do."

Regina hesitated. "It's not that. You wouldn't like this job."

He shrugged and, used to immediately going from hallway to the small tea room, headed down the hallway. Regina silently screeched and hurried to outpace him, but he was already at the door. Four half-burnt candles were placed on the desk in front of the fireplace. Though usually the warmest room in the house, it was just as cold as outside. Regina walked past him, bent over the desk and quickly blew out the candles. She took something from the centre of the table. "What's that? What were you doing?"

Regina hid the item behind her back, but after a moment sighed out unhappily. "What's the point of hiding it? Here you go!" It was a photo of the dead prostitute with a horrid smile.

"So you had it this whole time! I wondered where'd it gone. What were you doing with it?"

Regina bit her lip. "Don't get mad. I don't care what you think, but I haven't excluded all options about the photographer sending us those strange photos. So I though perhaps the dead know."

Stuart felt dizzy. "You performed a ritual? Regina, that's insane!" He came closer and smelt her breath. Surprisingly, there was no trace of alcohol in it. "What were you trying to achieve?"

"I told you; I want to find out who's messing with us! We haven't gotten any closer to the solution. I wake up fearing something bad might happen every morning."

"At least you sleep", he muttered, "I'm scared of closing my eyes because of the nightmares."

Regina raised her head. "Nightmares? You haven't told me you were still having them!"

Stuart cursed. He kept his dreams for himself. "Sometimes", he tried to get out of the trap. "Nothing special..." Regina wasn't convinced. "Anyway, let me see the photo again." It still made his stomach turn. "Where'd you get inspiration for such nonsense?"

"I'm a realist, Stuart", she said, "but sometimes even the most sceptical people get tempted. Narrow-mindedness is now our worst enemy." She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I knew you wouldn't approve. Forget it." She waved her hand and took the photo from him. "Are you hungry? I'll prepare something." Without even asking him to help like usually, she left the room. Stuart remained standing alone with the smell of candles crawling into his nose. Regina never told him whether something came out of her invocation.

Prompted by a vague premonition, he took one of the candles and placed it in the pocket of his coat. He closed the door after exiting the cold room. The door of the dark room was slightly open. Soft light was coming out of it. He took a peek through the gap between the wall and the door. The room for developing photos was cleaned so recently it still smelled of disinfectant.

Stuart staggered frontward, stopping himself from falling by taking hold of the door. The desk was still there with a kerosene lamp producing the weak light, but nothing else. The cabinet with all the photos was gone. "So she knows", he whispered.

Leaving the door as he found it, he joined Regina in the kitchen, and kept his mouth shut as much as he could. He went home in the evening.