Our faces naturally altered as we grew up, attended art college and went on our Ibizan holiday. Our collective expressions were unencumbered by worry, guilt or regret, despite my resentment simmering beneath the surface. People underestimate the innate desire to belong. It can be all-consuming, given the right cocktail of vulnerability and desperation.

I want to correct people when they refer to Ibiza as “the party place” because although it undeniably is, the soft sandy beaches are its best kept secret. (I sometimes wonder if the island hugs the knowledge of its beautiful landscape to itself as tourists flock to the clubs and bars.)

Of course, I have included images of the sea and landscape, the blues and greens, but among these are the hippy markets, Nina and me on the disco bus on our way to a club, the reds, oranges, golds and pinks of sunsets.

I stop. The next images include Charlie. I remove them and pile them to one side. Yet I can’t stop myself from looking at his eyes. Louise’s eyes. Would our future children have had green eyes, too, if things had turned out differently?

The floorboards upstairs creak. One of the children? Please let it not be Stuart, I want to be alone. It goes silent. I exhale, until then not even realizing I’d been holding my breath.

I’ve inserted more happy-looking wedding photos than I’d initially intended, for the children’s sake. I study Nina’s expressions again with my benefit of knowledge. Yet again, I hate that Nina deceived us all. She does not betray a hint of concern or doubt. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to photograph the truth. If I’m wrong, where does it leave me workwise in the future? I want to come out from the shadows, show people what I’m capable of.

I have great plans for when I get back into the swing of work. I intend to build on my previous good name. The thought cheers me. I’ve been feeling lost. I’ve allowed what happened to Nina to have an impact on me, too. I got caught up in her problems and dramas when I didn’t need to. Nina was always good at tugging me into her world, despite not trusting me when it mattered most.

In between the pictures of the wedding and the arrival of first Felix, then Emily, I could have added one or two of their honeymoon. But I couldn’t. I thought of passing them off by saying that Nina had given them to me, that they’d been taken by a stranger, but Stuart isn’t stupid. The shame of admitting that I spent a night on the same island as them in the Whitsundays because I felt left out is too great. It would be too implausible to pass off as a mere “one of those things.”

I do have limits. Lies have to contain an element of believable-enough truth. I did spot Nina and Stuart when I was in the same hotel for one night. I watched as Nina sat at the breakfast buffet and Stuart got up to get her coffee, piled her plate with food, was generally there to do her bidding. I admit, I was jealous. Not because I necessarily wanted that, but because she was clearly his world.