Murder at Madame Chambon’s by Beverley Oakley

Author:Beverley Oakley [Oakley, Beverley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sani Publishing

Chapter 18

Seven bright faces watched Archie as he poured collodion —a syrupy mixture of guncotton dissolved in a combination of ether—onto the glass plate he’d just cleaned before immersing it in a solution of silver nitrate to make it sensitive to light. Loading it into the camera, he disappeared beneath a black cloth.

“That’s right, Miss Liza. Keep looking this way. And pull your little bruvver closer to yer. And the other one. You boys at the back, don’t move and….”

Lily watched Archie, half hidden by the large camera on a tripod he was operating, bark directions at Liza and her brothers and sisters, clustered together in the cobbled slum lane, the three girls wearing the fancy hats and bonnets they’d made for their most esteemed clients that week.

“Finished! You can relax, now!”

The family group broke apart while Archie emerged from beneath the black cloth, hurrying to quickly transfer the plate to his portable darkroom for development.

“Very good work, all of you!” Lily clapped her hands, then pulled the thick, woolen muffler up around her lower face as she prepared to return to the thronged streets. “You’re a remarkable family and you have a remarkable sister, don’t you, boys? Thank you, Liza,” she added as the boys scuffed their leather boots on the cobbles and the little girls smiled shyly.

It had been an illuminating afternoon, interviewing Liza, whose tale of success in this poverty-stricken part of London would serve as a reminder of what was possible to readers in the next edition of Manners & Morals.

Archie finished packing away his equipment, meeting his employer at the end of the laneway. “Reckon that’ll get the subscribers opening their pocket books, m’lady. What a grand idea for ’em to contribute to your fund to pay for a better education for one of them younger girls.”

Lily smiled happily. “Even old Mr. McTavish wasn’t dead against the idea by the time Hamish had explained the benefits of appealing to the godly and altruistic inclination of his readers. And Liza does have the right blend of innocence and industry in the way you’ve been able to portray her.” Then some of her enthusiasm drained away. “Sadly, it’s the girls who are not blessed with charm or loveliness, but who work just as hard who fare worse in this cruel world. Not all of the equally deserving poor have Liza’s pretty face,” she said.

“Violets for a ha’penny!” cried a nearby street vendor. “Oo’ll buy me sweet violets!”

Squashing her old bonnet onto her head so that it covered as much of her face as possible, Lily hurried to keep pace with Archie, who struggled with his equipment through the dense push of bodies weaving through Covent Garden. “What did you think, Archie?” Liza felt her old energy returning and wanted his opinion. “Old Mr. McTavish will only allow this column if it’s a story of hope and inspiration for our more fortunate readers who too readily dismiss the concerns of the poor and write them off as lazy.

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