There were parents and a baby son with golden curls. The father held the son, His son. The boy rested a tiny hand on his father’s chest. The thin mother smiled proudly at the boy. The best silver was laid out on a white tablecloth. A cake with a single candle.
The mother’s long, spidery fingers held the shoulders of a girl – a daughter, a sister.
Dressed in a favourite purple, flowered pinafore which a few years later would be given up through tears to a younger cousin, she holds a handkerchief in her fist. Her eyes face the camera, her posture obedient. Hair drawn back with a slide. A little girl’s blush on her cheeks. Ruby red lips. Her eyes look mournful.