The batteries died. “Crap!” He sat back, placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. He spun slowly around trying to think. “Holiday!” He’d stayed with his Aunt on the Suffolk coast, and spent most of his time swimming in the sea. His aunt had taken a photo, and with his tan and cool shirt, he didn’t look too bad. Now he just needed to find it.

He found the box in Matylda’s bedroom. On the lid she’d written ‘April – August 2011’ and then underneath ‘To be sorted’ - he certainly didn’t inherit her enthusiasm for organization. He sat on her bed and lifted the lid. He took a handful, and started to flick through. It didn’t take long to find the photo - it would do. He could easily scan it and use a head and shoulders shot.

As he replaced the pictures in the box, he noticed a plain, brown envelope at the bottom. Curious, he took it out. The envelope was sealed and had nothing written on either side. Before he could debate whether he should be looking, he’d opened the flap and carefully removed a dozen or so photographs from inside.

He gasped.

Instantly he recognized the lamp outside the churchyard, covered in snow. His trip to ‘Narnia’. There were several more of the church, and then one of himself, as an excited kid in dreamland. His bright, beaming smile shone out from under his scarf and woolly hat. Tomas remembered his dad taking the photo. He’d said they should take pictures to prove they’d been there, otherwise his friends would never believe him. In the next, he stood beside his tall dad, holding hands, outside their front door. Mum must have taken it, when they’d returned from their walk, as they were both covered in snow and had bright red faces. Tomas looked closer at his  father’s face. He looked so happy and content, yet it was not long after that, when he’d begun to change. At first, Tomas noticed he didn’t spend so much time with him at home. Then he heard his parents shouting when he was in bed, even when he’d stuffed the pillow over his head.

A tear rolled down his face, onto the photo. He wiped it away with his sleeve, before thumbing through the others. There were a few of a table, surrounded by beaming young faces at his birthday party, and more of Tomas sitting proudly by his presents with Matylda, but no more of his father. He went back to the photo of the two of them holding hands.

“Tom? Are you alright? Oh… I see.” He’d been so engrossed with the photos, he hadn’t heard his mum enter. She sat and picked one up.

In a quiet voice Tomas asked, “What happened to him?” He lifted the photo of the two of them holding hands.