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‘There, you see? Max has already made a friend,’ stated Maximilian Carver triumphantly. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
‘And what’s this Roland like, Max?’ asked Andrea Carver.
‘I don’t know. He’s friendly. He lives with his grandfather, the lighthouse keeper. He’s been showing me around the town.’
‘And where did you say you were going diving?’ asked his father.
‘On the southern beach, on the other side of the port. Roland told me you can see the remains of a ship that sank there years ago.’
‘Can I come too?’ Irina cut in.
‘No,’ said Andrea Carver quickly. ‘Won’t it be dangerous, Max?’
‘Mum …’
‘All right,’ Andrea Carver conceded, ‘but be careful.
’
Max nodded.
‘When I was young, I was a good diver,’ Mr Carver began.
‘Not now, darling,’ his wife interrupted. ‘Weren’t you going to show us some films?’
Maximilian Carver shrugged and stood up, eager to show off his skills as a projectionist.
‘Give your father a hand, Max.’
Before doing as he was asked, Max glanced over at his sister Alicia. She had been silent throughout the meal and it was crystal clear from the look on her face that she was miles away, yet for some reason nobody else seemed to have noticed, or they preferred not to. Alicia momentarily returned his gaze.
‘Do you want to come with us tomorrow?’ he suggested. ‘You’ll like Roland.’
Alicia didn’t reply but she gave the hint of a smile and her dark, enigmatic eyes lit up for a second.
‘Ready. Lights out,’ said Maximilian Carver as he finished threading the film into the projector. The machine looked as if belonged in the age of Copernicus himself, and Max had his doubts as to whether it would actually work.
‘What are we going to see?’ asked Andrea Carver, holding Irina in her arms.
‘I haven’t a clue,’ the watchmaker confessed. ‘There’s a box in the shed with dozens of reels and none of them is labelled, so I chose a few at random. It wouldn’t surprise me if we don’t see anything at all. The emulsion used on film is very fragile and it could easily have been damaged after all these years. You see, the nitrates used in—’
‘Dear …’ Andrea Carver said sweetly but firmly.
‘Right.’ The watchmaker nodded.
‘What does emulsion mean?’ Irina asked. ‘Aren’t we going to see anything then?’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Maximilian Carver replied as he turned on the projector.
A few moments later they heard what sounded like an old motorcycle engine struggling to start as the machine rattled into life. Suddenly the beam from the lens cut through the room like a spear of light. Max concentrated on the rectangle projected onto the white wall. It was like looking inside a magic lantern, never knowing what visions might emerge from its depths. He held his breath and in a few moments the wall came alive with pictures.
*
It didn’t take long for Max to realise that the film they were watching didn’t come from the storeroom of some old cinema. It was not a print of some famous film, nor even a forgotten reel from a silent movie. The blurred pictures, eaten away by time, showed that whoever had filmed these images was obviously an amateur.
‘What is this?’ asked Irina.
‘I don’t know, darling,’ answered her father.
