‘Then why did he commit suicide?’ Diana twisted her hands together. She had to ask otherwise she would never know the truth. ‘Why did he leave me?’

‘He didn’t.’ She looked out to the bay and not at Diana.

She was lying, Diana was convinced. Turning towards her, her mother opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyelids closed, shutting down any chance Diana had of reading what she couldn’t or wouldn’t say. Her hand fell limp on the blanket and Diana pulled the photo out from under it. She didn’t stir. Placing the snapshot back in the box, she fought the urge to upend the box and bury her in the photographs. She left the box on the bed, but then swung back and tossed a few more of them at her. It was petty. Diana knew that, but something inside her raged. She was being lied to.

Her mother dozed on, undisturbed by the patchwork of faded photos covering her. When she next opened her eyes maybe she would take some pleasure from the memories or maybe she wouldn’t. Diana paused. Had her mother felt as betrayed by his death as she had? Was the pain still as raw? Those photographs spoke of love. She had loved him and he betrayed her too by killing himself. All these years her father’s death had stood between them. She should have asked sooner.

29

Lottie

4 August 2018, 7.30 a.m.

Her mother wasn’t in the room when Lottie brought her coffee. But her grandmother was awake and looking at photos strewn across her chest. Lottie’s heart contracted. Gran didn’t look at her but stared at the photo in her hand. Her other hand flailed around on the side table knocking a book off. Her reading glasses were just out of her reach. Lottie handed them to her. She glanced at Lottie then with her glasses on said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Gran, you don’t have anything to apologise to me for.’

Her grandmother had been the best . . . kind, loving, and understanding.

‘Lottie.’

‘Yes.’ She sat and tried to see the picture, but it was turned away.

‘My wedding, my first wedding.’ Her voice stuck on the words.

‘May I see?’ Lottie held out her hand.

‘We fooled no one.’ Her grandmother laughed.

‘Why were you trying to fool anyone?’ she asked, as her grandmother finally let the picture turn towards her. Seeing the photo, she was instantly transported far away from Boskenna. The ground in front of the church in the picture almost shimmered in the heat and the dust. Her grandmother held a bouquet of roses in front of her and then Lottie realized what she was saying. She had been pregnant. Despite the flowers, the angle of the photograph caught the swelling of her stomach. Allan Trewin stood straight and smiled directly at the photographer.

‘You look beautiful.’ Lottie turned to Gran. Those high cheek bones were still in evidence.

‘Thank you.’ Gran touched her hair.