Val peered at the black-and-white image. It had a patina across the top like a string of ink blots joined together by threads, but behind them she could make out some figures. Girls, she thought, with wide white ankle-length skirts and straw hats, their faces indistinct. The next image showed a seated couple, but there was a smudge across their faces and they were only clear from the waist down. In a third shot she could see a garden but no detail of the figures that appeared to be the subject of the picture. The fourth one showed what appeared to be a little boy lying on a sofa. Could they all be members of her father’s birth family? There was a Russian feel to the images, although she couldn’t put her finger on what made her think that.

“There were some interesting ones toward the end,” Alan said, walking further down the line of prints. “The Kodak Autographic had a curious feature: an aperture in the back where you could use a stylus to write a caption for the picture, perhaps the place or date. Your photographer chose to write the names of three of his subjects.”

Val read them out loud, stumbling over the pronunciation: “Konstantin Ukraintsev, Peter Vasnetsov, Ivan Skorokhodov.” Russian names. The three images showed men in uniform, staring at the camera without smiling. “They’re very solemn.”

“Back in the Victorian era, subjects had to stay still because of the long exposure time, and that’s why you get those characteristic stiff poses. By 1914, that was no longer necessary, so you’ll find some more candid portraits with people smiling and fooling around. But I guess there was still a sense that being photographed was a formal occasion, especially if you weren’t used to it.” There was no hesitation in his reply; he spoke as an expert.

Val looked at the faces of the three men. The shots were grainy, with one side of the figures brighter than the other, and they all appeared to have been taken in the same room. She could make out a window to the left of them. Were the men friends of her father’s before he left Russia? They looked distinctly Russian, with strong bone structure and sturdy figures.

“I wonder why he wrote the names of some but not others?” she mused.

“Easy,” Alan replied. “He felt the need to remind himself because he didn’t know them so well.”

“So you think he knew the girls in the earlier shots . . .”

“I’m just guessing, but it seems a reasonable explanation.”