Chapter Text
Nell cursed herself.
She had a free afternoon, and owed Charles a favour - never, ever a good place to be. They were both Foundation students at Broadwater School of Art in Tottenham: old friends from the same year, though rather different disciplines. After a darkroom-related incident that he refused to dig into the details of, he had found himself in Sofia Blancheford's bad books - arguably an even worse place to be. She took rules and regulations very seriously, and though she didn't technically hold any power over what Charles did with his life, the lab was essentially her domain.
"You're not scared of her, are you?"
"Yes! Yes, I am. Please, Nelly, she likes you."
"No, she doesn't."
"Well, she tolerates you a little more than she tolerates me. Which is a big deal."
"Get Amadin to do it, she actually likes him."
"He's a busy man, Nell, and he hates conflict, you know this."
"What, and I love it, do I?"
Claiming pitifully to be banned, he had sent her downstairs to print the photos from a black-and-white fashion shoot of his, tooled with a thin plastic wallet containing the strips of negative film, a contact sheet with the best photos circled along with some numbers, and clear-ish instructions. Holding the sheet up close, they were lovely photographs, Nell thought - they displayed some of the elaborate costumes that Charlie had been crafting over the past couple of months. He was currently upstairs in the main studios, absolutely going to town on an embroidery hoop, desperately trying to finish the details of some decorative garment before the fashion crit next week - meaning he was especially grateful for her help.
The sculptor herself hadn't been in the laboratory since last year, and found it a generally disorienting place, smelling too strongly and all decked out in old, heavy, menacing equipment.
Unfortunately, she was a good friend - and since she rathered Charles not be killed, she stuck by her favour. Hopping down the stairwell, she passed the entrance leading out to the sculpture yard, where early March sunlight and fresh air pooled into the building. Clay dust floated from her jeans to swim around in the pale rays, and she walked a little slower. She turned the corner onto a hallway she rarely came by. The lightroom door was invitingly open.
As soon as she walked in, the harsh vinegar-like smell filled her lungs, and she grimaced. She'd reek by the end of the day. It wasn't a tiny room, but it was packed full; a chemical-stained metal basin stretched the length of the wall, which displayed dozens of safety information sheets, and grids declaring measurements; strings hung from the ceiling, dotted with paper hanging from wooden pegs; plastic equipment that Nell couldn't identify overflowed the shelves above the counter opposite. The door to the darkroom stood to the left, heavy and foreboding and plastered with warnings that Nell didn't bother reading.
She pushed it open and let it click shut behind her, allowing the pitch black to swallow her. Memories of a short, dark corridor returned - there was a second door up a few yards ahead, and all Nell had to do was find the handle - easy enough, but the consuming darkness disoriented her slightly. Fumbling with the final door, the dull red lamps that lined the darkroom ceiling were revealed, along with the quiet, albeit spooky whisper of running water. The light blue trim of her dirty white t-shirt turned grey. It was like stepping into another dimension. She knew the enlargers she needed stood against the walls, so clutching her materials, she moved blindly, and a little too confidently, away from the door - it was not as straightforward as that. She made it not two paces before colliding with an inky, fluttering shape that materialised in the middle of the room. Nell jumped and scrambled to get out of the way.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Watch yourself! And knock, please," they replied indignantly, clearly ruffled.
"I can't see a bloody thing! I thought I was alone in here, you scared me!" Nell protested, then regretted it slightly, because she had no way of knowing who she might be arguing with.
Squinting to adjust her eyes, she made out a dark head of hair and a sharp, cross little face. It was, indeed, Sofia Blancheford. She was not so lucky to have the lab to herself. They were classmates, and vaguely knew each other through Amadin and Charles, but rarely crossed paths - mainly because Nell was usually out and about in the yard, or bouncing around the studios, and Sofia was usually locked up in here. Nell had seen her work during crit; she was a fantastic student. She probably knew more about the darkroom than the technician did. As well as this, she was also reserved, aloof, and a little moody - not unkind, but no class clown, indeed. And now, Nell Trotter had waltzed into her domain and almost knocked her right to the ground without so much as a hello, how are you.
"It says 'knock,' in big red letters on the door," she snapped.
"Right. Well. Sorry. I'm not a big reader," Nell offered, somewhat sarcastically, somewhat flustered. Sofia gave a sigh of exasperation in response, and mumbled something about how it's a good thing I wasn't holding anything dangerous, strutting over to the basins to continue whatever sorcery she was up to. Nell rolled her eyes under cover of darkness, and located an enlarger to work on.
It was time to dust off her photography knowledge. According to her expertise, there was one thing she would need for certain.
"Um, where's the paper?"
There were a couple seconds of silence following Nell's sheepish request, before a curt voice crossed the room in response.
"In the fridge."
Low humming suggested the refrigerator running gently in the corner.
It glowed crimson on the inside to match the rest of the room, and was stacked with boxes of paper and film. She browsed the labels, and made the brave choice to crack a joke.
"No chance of me getting to store my lunch in here, is there? Only, the shared fridge is-"
"No," came the voice again.
Nell smiled to herself and picked the most familiar A5 package, and retrieved a few sheets. They were nice and cold on her fingertips. She inspected them as she sauntered away.
"People keep nickin' my sausage rolls, see," she lamented, to a resounding silence, and arrived back at her station.
Zoning back in, she fiddled with knobs and buttons until she felt confidently refamiliarised, and set to work inserting the first set of slides into the top of the enlarger; she adjusted the size and position, then happily lined up a sheet of paper under the projection, ready to print. She began to feel quite relaxed. The darkroom disoriented her at first, but the ambience of the low light, the gentle hum of electricity, and the soothing, aquarium murmur of the waterbath brought her peace.
She couldn't get too comfortable, because just as she was about to slide away the red filter and expose her paper to white light, Sofia broke the silence once more.
"Is it in focus?"
She was back at her own station, just a few paces to Nell's right, and poked her head around at her classmate's hasty setup.
"Huh?" Nell replied astutely.
"Your slide, is it in focus?"
Before she could protest, Sofia had already floated into her personal space, holding what looked like a little microscope.
"Is this Charles' work?" she interrogated, more than asked.
"I'm doin' him a favour."
Sofia hummed in response.
"Interesting," she muttered, in a way that made Nell wonder why it was interesting at all. "The paper's upside down."
Nell cringed at Sofia's blunt observation, and shamefully flipped it right-side-up, the shiny, light-sensitive layer revealing itself. The shorter woman leant over the paper, placing down her little tool and scrutinising it through the lens.
"It's not in focus. It's blurry," she confirmed, and twisted a little knob around in minute adjustments. For all her proud independence, Sofia was certainly a busybody.
"There. Look now," she ordered, and Nell peered through the little magnifier the same way her classmate did. She saw crisp shapes, the finest grains of the film emulsion. Not really caring, she stood up straight and attempted to shove the tool back in Sofia's direction.
"Right. Thank you. I can get on with it now, if that's alright," she dismissed, eager to be left alone, but Sofia was occupied by squinting at the numbers lit-up on Nell's equipment.
"You're going to overexpose this, surely?"
Nell sighed and shrugged, not really sure how to respond.
"Give me that," Sofia gestured at the contact sheet, somehow making it sound polite. Nell surrendered it reluctantly, and she scanned the digits Charles had scrawled.
"He's written them down, and everything, it's right here," Sofia uttered with confusion. It made Nell feel stupid. There's no reason why she should know what those numbers mean.
"They're his photos, I don't know why you care."
"If you're doing a favour, do it properly. I'll set the ISO and exposure for you, and you can print the rest," she announced decisively.
Nell threw her hands up, because she knew saying 'whatever,' out loud would earn her a nasty glare. She watched as Sofia turned a numbered wheel at the top of the enlarger. The image below got dimmer. She then adjusted the little control panel on the desk, decreasing a digital countdown timer from twelve seconds to four.
"There."
Nell mumbled an ungrateful thank-you, but it was clear Sofia didn't really care whether her help was appreciated or not. She was already busying herself on a different enlarger, once again consumed by her own work.
Turning back to the paper in front of her, Nell decided to just get on with it. She turned the projection off, removed the filter, and pressed a button, and it came back on in pure, gentle, white light. After four seconds it automatically shut back off with a pleasing click, and Nell whisked away the paper, satisfied.
Both students approached the basins with a piece of paper each. The station was a metal rectangle that jutted out at least ten feet from the wall, and was divided into three sections - two long, shallow troughs than ran side-by-side, and the waterbath, which took up the outermost end. The two dry areas had three labeled trays in them each, likely leftover from a workshop, and a tap and drain against the wall. There were pairs of metal tongs in each tray. A handy glow-in-the-dark clock overlooked it all, second hand turning, and a poster listing development times was displayed alongside. Sofia submerged her paper into the first tray, opposite of Nell, checked the clock, and began to tilt the liquid back and forth. Nell did the same, into the tray labeled 'DEV' - she was to leave it in there for sixty seconds, according to the poster. As time ticked by, she watched the magic happen before her very eyes. Under the shimmering reflections of overhead light, the paper at once went from pure white, to clouded with faint grey, to painted with deep, varied tones as the image shyly revealed itself.
"Holy shit," she muttered to herself in awe, and Sofia concealed a genuine smile.
Sixty seconds passed, and they transferred their prints to the trays labeled 'STOP'.
"Yours is dripping everywhere, let the developer drain off a little first. You'll dilute the other trays," Sofia nitpicked.
"Yeah, yeah."
Ten seconds passed in the stop-bath, and Nell scooped the photo up between the tongs.
"Try it this time, don't make such a mess."
Nell rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, and transferred the paper neatly to the final, stronger-smelling tray, labeled 'FIX'. Two minutes would pass in this one, and they passed without words. Sometimes Nell would glance up at Sofia, watching her waiting, and sometimes Sofia would glance back. It didn't really feel as awkward as it should have. Nell lost track of the clock, and snapped back to the task when Sofia moved hers into the wash. They mirrored each others' actions the whole way through. Nell drained hers properly before plunging it in, and they stood at the end of the station, looming over the inky water. Both prints spiralled around in the current amongst other unclaimed pieces.
Nell's (or, Charles') photograph had come out beautifully. The scribbled numbers were correct, and Sofia had adjusted the settings perfectly - the image appeared in sharp focus, with intense tones and exact contrast. She felt a subtle buzz of relief that she might not fuck up the entire batch for him.
The constant water flow babbled over the silence. They lingered there, watching the intricate, mottled images as they somehow contained themselves into neat little squares and swam hypnotically through the blackness. Sofia looked down at them fondly, before delicately rolling up her sleeves and dipping her hand in. The nebulous reflections on the water's surface scattered at her touch. Nell had a feeling that she might react similarly, in its place; Sofia's hands were fine, but agile, and professional in everything they did; they were tools of creation, or magic, or whatever you wanted to call it, and they were at work. She fished out her newest piece, after dragging it to and fro a couple of times under the surface to ensure the chemicals were washed away. Nell instinctually copied her, and the cold water felt good as it swallowed up to her wrist. Her own hands seemed rough and clumsy in comparison. Sofia made a habitat out of the lab; she belonged there, she suited it, in all her witchy, gossamer mystique. They were symbiotic. The woman's probably got night vision.
They inspected the prints together. Some kind of wispy double-exposure shimmered between Sofia's finger and thumb. Nell saw a drapey figure, barely there, disappearing into itself amongst the various other ethereal shapes. Most of it looked like fabric, a spectral veneer of some sort that gathered and stretched, and it glowed. A light source - a flame, maybe - made its way up the composition. The black space was minimal, but it located the subjects in an otherworldly, all-consuming nighttime.
Nell clutched a nonspecifically historical-looking portrait of Charles. Half of his monotone, made-up face was hidden by both a large, ornate fan - cradled in a silk white glove - and the shoulder of an absolutely huge velvet coat, the texture of which had been captured in soft, minute detail. Embroidery, feather trims, buttons, novelty seams, decorative tassels and lace all made for a display of delightfully handcrafted camp. His mouth was hidden, but his eyes smiled coyly at the camera - there was no trace of satire in his expression, or his pose. He might have been in character. He was elegant, feminine, sincere, and squinting in a manner she could recognise anywhere, from behind any outfit - for all of his elaborate, transformative costumes - to Nell, Charlie was distinct.
"He looks quite pretty," Sofia remarked. Nell smiled back at him.
"Yeah, he'll be thrilled to bits with these."
She looked back over at Sofia's work, struggling to find words for the deep, vague mourning - the intense feeling that she is missing something, that an opportunity has been left behind, that the past is running away from her faster than she can catch up with the future - that the picture brought onto her. Water trickled down her forearm and sank into her t-shirt.
"What's, um, your project about?" she asked, rather plainly.
Sofia's eyes flicked between Nell and the photograph, then tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I'm interested in impossible things."
Nell wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the answer intrigued her.
Sofia continued - "Imagine going back in time three hundred years, and showing this to someone. They wouldn't believe it. I can barely believe it. I'm interested in what we don't believe in - the supernatural, if you can call it that. Three hundred years ago, they would hang me for witchcraft, because they wouldn't believe this to be possible without witchcraft." She laughed, even at this morbid thought, without sarcasm; Nell couldn't help but smile at the usually no-nonsense woman's passionate affection for her work.
"I like the idea of comparing traditionally inexplicable myth and legend to the mysteries we've now since solved, and the technology we have today. We're always trying to rationalize things - I mean, analogue photography itself: we can study chemical reactions all we want. We can explain it and write research on it 'til our brains melt. It will never become simple, or dull, or earthly. Just because we understand it doesn't mean it isn't magic."
She looked up at Nell, in a genuine search for connection. She spoke every word like it meant the world, and to her, it really did.
"People can get focused on the most efficient way to get the most predictable end result. They look for corners to cut, control, replicability - making these reactions happen by hand is the antithesis of that. They treat it like a dead art. I love the process. I need the magic."
The whimsy her words held was like nothing Nell ever would have expected from Sofia Blancheford. She watched as those glittery eyes drifted gently back down to the print. Her hands and face were hazy and velvet in the crimson glow of the safelight; there was a mole under her lower lip. A halo of downy black hair incandesced in a similar hue above her head. Nell realised she must have been staring, and felt her own face turn a deep scarlet to match the party - she hoped it camouflaged well. She cleared her throat.
"Well, you're very smart, and the pictures are really good. I hope you write all that down. Very handy for evaluation."
Sofia smiled at her shyly, appreciating even the bluntest of praise. Nell dunked her print back into the cold water.
"I'd better do the rest of these bad boys. Thanks for fixing my stuff."
With that, she turned away briskly and attended to her station. The time passed rather smoothly after that - Nell fell into a peaceful, focused rhythm of work, and Sofia nursed her own creations a couple of enlargers away. Every so often, Nell would crack a joke into the comfortable silence, and Sofia would either ignore her, or crack a funnier one back. If she ever actually laughed, she did it very quietly. To begin with, the company was disappointing at best, and intrusive at worst, but now Nell found herself feeling content to work alongside Sofia - that was, when she wasn't being told off for something inconsequential. Gradually, she hated Charles less and less for getting in trouble and putting her into this situation.
There were around a dozen chosen photos he had circled, and each one was a treat, so it didn't feel like much work at all. He wanted to work in theatre, making costumes and puppets and the like, and his portfolio agreed with him - in the second, he wore a bandit's mask around his eyes, an excessively feathered hat, and a very meek pencil moustache.
In another, he wore a huge, cascading cloak of some sort, patched and quilted and embroidered with dozens of images, flora and fauna and people - a testament to his patience, it seemed. He looked away from the camera, and the garment took up most of the image. It was more of a textile artwork than a functional costume.
Someone lay on the ground in a landscape composition, crowded with faux-fur and other heavy textural materials. It could have been Charles under there, but it was impossible to tell. From the shoulders up, they were obscured by a large sculptural boar's head; it was papier-mâché - Nell had seen it before. It lay there as if dead; it was weathered and off-putting, but Nell's favourite of the bunch. Its monstrous nature, and the ambiguity of the wearer underneath, recalled ritual folk costumes depicting spirits and the like, blurring the line between man and beast. Things like this had interested her for a while. She supposed it wasn't all too different from Sofia's proposal - a deep fascination with the far-fetched - realizing all the wild, inconceivable stories that people must see to believe, and once they believe, they go in terror of.
"Very interesting work," came a voice in her ear.
Nell almost leapt out of her skin when she noticed Sofia peering at the photos from over her shoulder. She hovered like a phantom, wispy hair brushing against Nell's cheek; she didn't seem to care a bit that she had almost stopped the taller woman's heart, and just frowned at her.
"No need to be jumpy. There are only a few vengeful ghosts living down here."
Breezing behind Nell with a dry tray in her arms, she began fishing out the other prints floating about.
"I don't know why you decided to help with Charlie's stuff, if you're so annoyed with him."
Sofia cocked her head innocently. "Why would I be annoyed with him?"
The rather cutthroat photographer wasn't one to hide a grudge, and Nell wondered if she had gotten the story mixed up. Before she could ask any further into it, Sofia gestured to the small pile of wet papers.
"I take it you're all finished? Are you coming to dry them off?"
"Yeah, alright, don't rush me," Nell replied, and deposited her handiwork into Sofia's tray, who waited impatiently by the door for her protégé to gather her other belongings.
"Thanking you kindly," Nell bowed as she passed through the first door that Sofia held open considerately, but was called back with a sharp, "Wait," quicker she could rush to open the second, risking flooding daylight into their little liminal realm.
"Always wait for this door to shut. You could ruin someone's work. It's also why you knock," Sofia ordered.
"Right, wonderful. Well, to my knowledge, literally nobody is in there. Unless they've been extremely quiet."
"It's about the habit," she insisted. By now, the interior door had long since shut and they were arguing in pitch black. Nell didn't care to stay longer than she needed. She swung open the entrance to the lightroom and squinted at the sudden contrast.
"Christ alive, it's like coming out of a casket."
She turned to see Sofia emerging from the gloom - dressed in practically mourning clothes, long hair matching the tone, face as pale as a vampire.
"Explains a lot, actually."
Sofia looked up from the tray, not listening.
"What?"
"What are we up to, then?" Nell diverted, coming to stand annoyingly close to the other artist's side. She hadn't yet seen her under proper light that day, away from the dreamy veil of the laboratory, and gave her a once-over. She wore black, corduroy trousers, that flared slightly over equally black, practical boots. In a tasteful shade of very dark charcoal, she wore a thin, long-sleeved black top that came up high on her throat. The bright blue lanyard almost spoiled it. You'd think she was trying to camouflage in there. No wonder I knocked into her, Nell thought, wear a bloody hi-vis next time.
Sofia didn't care enough to budge, and instead handed Nell a small stack of prints.
"Peg these up, for now."
She turned on a rather loud drying machine and began to feed some photos through; Nell turned to the basins, where strings were suspended wildly from above like vines. They fell into another comfortable silence, facing opposite walls, and the clock ticked closer to the end of the day.
Eventually, Sofia turned the machine off (its absence was noticeable), and she came to busy herself alongside her classmate with a few contact strips that were too small to go through. After a minute, she glanced over at the taller woman, diligently working, and turned thoughtfully to face her.
"You've got a striking side profile," she casually commented. She reached up to take Nell's jaw in her fingers and tilt it for a better view.
Nell felt her insides scattering and turning over themselves, like those silvery reflections in the waterbath. She was taken by surprise, but barely thought twice about letting the smaller woman pose her around like a show pony - before she came to her senses and batted the hand away.
"Buy me a drink first, yeah?"
Sofia didn't dignify her with a laugh.
"I don't do many portraits, but I should have you model for me."
She didn't really phrase it like a question. That was the thing about Sofia - she didn't need to speak in hypotheticals. She had that sure-of-herself, naturally commanding presence that seemed to come with being a bit posh.
"Not in a million years, sweetheart."
"I remember when Charlie swindled you into it. You're a bit of a natural. I'd put my own spin on you," she reasoned, as if it were an offer she couldn't refuse.
Nell remembered that shoot too, from a few months ago, though fuzzily - it gave her feelings, ones she couldn't place. Sofia was there, to help with the setup, and so was fashion student Polly, as another model. The work was fantastic, but for all of Nell's can-do attitude and brash personality, she was implausibly camera-shy.
"I owed him, again."
"Then I'll have to find you in my debt, somehow."
Again, it came with being posh - but Sofia's intonation did make it sound slightly flirtatious. Nell stood her ground.
"Not happening."
Sofia placed her hands on her hips thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes at her stubborn classmate.
"I have given you my time this afternoon."
"I never asked you to. And that weren't for my benefit, it were for Charlie's."
"I could just as easily have left you to figure it out on your own. You'd have been here 'til dusk."
She raised an eyebrow. Nell squirmed under Sofia's persuasive gaze.
"Let me pick my clothes," she bargained, "And I'll think about considering it."
She held out a handshake, which Sofia suspiciously, hesitantly, reached for. A mistake - Nell, like obnoxious lightning, yanked it out of the way and ran a hand through her hair instead. It was an admittedly smooth execution. She sucked air through her teeth awkwardly as if it were an accident, and grinned mischievously at Sofia.
"Ooh, I ain't that easy, love. Cheers for the science lesson, though, yeah?"
Sofia did not smile. She very clearly seethed, but spoke calmly as ever.
"You are insufferable."
"Good one. I'll see you around, Sof."
The clock struck four. With a suave wink and click of her teeth, Nell took her folder (and blinding grin) and bounced out of the department door, disappearing out of sight - leaving Sofia alone with a flush of furious embarrassment and the familiar notion that something important had slipped through her fingers.