To fill in time they lingered in the sitting room, the everyday room that housed the TV and stereo, and, on a circular side-table, an array of photos. Sylvie, her heart still pounding, attempted to restore herself. ‘We’re so happy you’re here,’ she said, pleased to hear the warm, motherly tone in her voice. ‘Andrew has told us all about you.’

Again, Galina wondered what exactly Andrew had told them, and then decided it really didn’t matter. She turned her attention to the photos. They showed Andrew as a baby, as a toddler, as a schoolboy, as a youth; they showed him as the man he was today; they showed him against a backdrop of different places and different interests. Andrew liked the beach; Andrew liked animals; Andrew liked the company of his parents. There were photos of people Galina assumed were the grandparents, and photos of Leonard and Sylvie with friends, photos with Andrew, and several of the two of them alone. The largest photo in the display was a framed portrait of Sylvie and Leonard on their wedding day, the petite bride in a patterned white satiny gown with a long train, and Leonard in formal clothes, looking like a Hollywood movie star.

‘What a handsome couple,’ Galina said, holding up the photo. She smiled. ‘You still are.’

Sylvie gazed at the familiar picture, and it occurred to her, for the first time, how deceptive photos can be. They capture just a moment, a snapshot, in what are usually complex and on-going situations. And even the moment itself is distorted for the camera: Turn this way, tilt your head, clasp your hands, say cheese. Not that this picture actually lied — she had been happy, and it had been a happy day. But the girl in the picture had anticipated a future very different from that which had eventuated.

8 A GOOD MARRIAGE

8

A GOOD MARRIAGE

It was the autumn of 1955 when Sylvie Stirling met Leonard Morrow in the menswear department of the Myer Emporium. Sylvie was nineteen years old and employed at the busy Revlon counter. (Her preference had been for the book department, but the personnel manager had said it would be a waste of a pretty face, and assigned her to cosmetics instead.) Leonard, six years her senior, was about to buy a controlling share in the library-supplies company where he’d been working for the past four years. There was a meeting scheduled for the following day when the deal would be finalised, and to mark the occasion Leonard had decided to buy a new tie. He was oscillating between a maroon check and a blue stripe when Sylvie returned from her lunch break. She walked past him, slowed down, and without thinking, turned back and offered to help.