Annie spent some time sitting on the beach, throwing pebbles into the surf and enjoying the satisfying plop sound as they disappeared beneath the waves. The sky was a pale gray cashmere; the weather seemed less antagonistic today, which suited Annie’s reflective mood. Her parents had been so proud when she’d qualified as a chef; they’d worried that getting pregnant would ruin her chances of a career, and had it not been for their steadfast support, it might have. Annie wished they could see her now; she wondered what they would make of her life. Though she was sure they would support her decisions. There didn’t seem to be a cutoff point for missing one’s parents. Were they watching over her? She liked to think so. On days like these, it was easy to believe that they were.

Her calm reverie was shattered by a voice calling her name across the deserted stretch of beach.

“I know today is always a hard one for you,” said Max, following her through the gate.

“Yes, well. It is what it is,” said Annie.

“I thought you might like some company.”

“Not really,” said Annie. “But thank you for thinking of me.”

“I found some old photograph albums. I thought we could go through them together. Maybe sort out how to split them. You can have first dibs.” He smiled uncertainly at her.

Annie sighed exaggeratedly. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked. She didn’t have the energy to fight him today.

And so it was that Annie and Max spent the rest of Sunday afternoon flicking through old photographs and—to Annie’s surprise—laughing over shared memories.

The last of the daylight evaporated and lamps were switched on. In among the holiday snaps and obligatory baby-bath-time photographs were pictures of her parents: smiling in their garden, playing with the boys, out at restaurants to celebrate various wedding anniversaries . . . The years rolled back through the yellowing edges of the albums, and soon they were looking at grainy photographs taken on disposable cameras, of Annie showing off a gigantic baby bump while Max pointed at it grinning, Annie and Max pre–baby bump, down the pub, in the park, at the prom.

“God, you looked hot in that prom dress,” said Max.

“It was practically sprayed on.” Annie laughed. “I didn’t think my dad was going to let me leave the house!”

“Whose house did we go to for the after-party?”

“Mandy Shaw’s.”

“Mandy Shaw! Crikey, I wander whatever happened to her?”

“She’s a head teacher in Milton Keynes.”

“Blimey. Do you remember the spare room? Under the coats?”

“Worrying that any moment someone would come in and catch us,” said Annie.

Max’s laugh was soft and low; Annie felt the danger but pushed it aside.