Page 17 of Geist Fleisch
“Quickly, before he changes his mind,” added Karl, his tone droll. “You will want a hat, perhaps?”
Blast. The bandage.
“Here,” called Frank, bringing his Hamburg into the room and putting it on Callum’s head. He tilted it so that the bandage, if not entirely invisible, no longer looked like quite such a medical catastrophe. He then straightened Callum’s jacket. “Quite fetching on you.”
In the time it took Karl to return with the press camera, its flashlamp looming above the box like a threatening eye that could pick up every stain on Callum’s clothes, Callum wondered if all ‘tourists’ who came through the place had the honour of such a photo, or if there were any such records of Frank, or even Max. Of course, Max didn’t exist.
“Frank, draw the curtain, please.”
Anne watched Frank draw the dark curtain behind them. “Should one of us be sitting down?”
“I don’t think so,” Karl answered, checking something on the camera. “It is better if you are side by side, as equals, yes?”
“I can see why you like these people,” Callum muttered.
“Hush,” Anne giggled. “Watch for the dicky bird.”
“The what?” Callum just had time to look up as Karl counted down in German and the room exploded with light. He blinked away his astonishment, the entire room looking back at him in negative.
“Was that all right, or shall we do another one?”
“No need,” Karl checked the camera again. “I can make you a print downstairs. Perhaps… forty-five minutes?”
“Oh, yes please! Isn’t it marvellous how fast they can finish these things?” Anne grinned. “Do you know, I read they’re even doing photographs in colour now?”
“Sounds a bit… bourgeois,” said Callum to a polite chuckle from Frank.
“If you’re going to say such horrid things, I shan’t be taking you anywhere.”
“Sorry.”
A young man with painted green fingernails offered them coffee with no introduction, which Frank accepted on their behalf. It wasn’t until Anne jokingly asked if the kitchen had anyFleischthat the conversation drifted to Callum’s dream. Anne sat enthralled as he recounted more details.
Frank paid equally rapt attention as he sipped his coffee. “So, they were all men? And they all had scars?”
“Most of them, yes. Some bad ones, come to that.”
“In Suzi’s place?” Anne shook her head. “Quite the imagination you’ve developed, darling. “Personally, I liked the bit about the monsters eating those loathsome Brownshirts. If dreams were horses, eh?”
“I think you mean wishes.” Callum had omitted the familiar identities of the ‘monsters’ in question. He caught Frank’s dark look all the same. “Anyway, I told you it was daft.”
“Aside from your injury, which would be a rather lazy ending, it would make for a compelling penny dreadful,” Frank murmured. “Are those still popular in London? I suppose not.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Pity. You’re quite the storyteller, Callum. No offence, but I wouldn’t have expected it.”
Callum shrugged, sipping more of his coffee and not much liking it. “Not much to expect.”
“Oh, I think there’s a good deal more to you than we can see right now.”
He smiled, unsure how to answer the compliment. “If you need any joining done, or fixing…”
“Not sure how they’re doing without him back home,” Anne added. “He’s always been handy.”
“Yes, yes I’m sure you are,” Frank said, not taking his eyes off Callum until Karl reappeared and tapped him on the shoulder. Callum watched the two men withdraw, whispering to each other in earnest.
“You should stay a while, darling.”
