‘I’m pretty sure that’s not me.’ Jake glanced at Marcus, who was studying the photo. ‘Look on the back.’
‘I know what’s written on the back,’ Marcus didn’t sound convinced. ‘Did you open this one?’ Marcus held up the second envelope.
‘No – what’s inside?’ said Jake, fully expecting Marcus to tell him.
‘I don’t know,’ said Marcus, but he must have caught the expression on Jake’s face because he added, ‘For your information, I do not go around opening other people’s letters. They were on the floor. When I picked them up, this photo hadslipped out …’ He held up the photo of the little boy as he glared at Jake.
‘Sorry,’ Jake said sheepishly, giving him a quick glance.
There was a moment’s silence.
‘So, do you want me to open this – or what?’ Marcus held up the unopened envelope.
Jake sighed heavily. He knew Marcus wasn’t going to let it drop, especially if he thought somebody they didn’t know might have photos of Jake – however unlikely that was. The likeness was uncanny, but Jake was convinced it wasn’t a photo of himself.
He glanced at Marcus. ‘Open it.’ It didn’t interest him in the least. What he was interested in was returning the envelopes and heading straight home. He listened to the rip of paper and the rustle of Marcus’s hand in the envelope.
‘What have we here?’ said Marcus in a peculiar tone of voice.
Jake briefly took his eyes off the road. Marcus was leafing through several black-and-white photographs. ‘What is it?’ said Jake, trying to catch a glimpse of the photographs.
‘Are we going to see this Arnold fellow who gave you these?’ Marcus said slowly.
‘Well now,’ Jake paused while he made a right turn, ‘I am taking them back.’
‘Taking them back?’ Marcus repeated. ‘What do you mean taking them back? They’reourphotographs.’
It took a moment for what Marcus had said to sink in. ‘What do you mean they’reourphotographs? Show me them.’ Jake took a hand off the steering wheel as Marcus passed him a photograph.
‘Arnold Wright had better explain how he came by these,’ said Marcus, rifling through the remainder.
‘Mr Wright can’t tell us anything,’ said Jake, holding up the photo so he could take a closer look while keeping an eye onthe road ahead. Jake recalled that Arnold kept referring tothe letters,so obviously he had no idea that the envelopes contained old family photos of no consequence; he was going to be hugely disappointed.
‘Maybe Martha can explain,’ said Marcus.
‘No, she cannot,’ Jake said emphatically.
‘Why – is she dead?’
‘Not quite yet, but she’s not well enough to talk,’ Jake replied, his concentration wandering from the road for a moment.
‘Watch it!’ Marcus yelped, making a grab at the steering wheel. They were careering across the road into the path of an oncoming car.
Jake slapped Marcus’s hand away from the steering wheel and corrected the drift. When he thought he had sufficient control of himself, and the car, he held up the photo again to take a quick look. ‘It’s my house!’ said Jake in surprise. He looked at Marcus.
‘For god’s sake, keep your eyes on the road, man; I want to get there in one piece!’ Marcus snatched the photo out of Jake’s hand, spoiling for a fist in the face. ‘Look, why don’t you just pull over, and then I’ll give you the photos.’
Jake didn’t want to stop. He now had urgent questions he wanted to ask Arnold about how the photographs, taken at his house, had come to be in Martha’s possession. ‘Describe them to me.’
There were four photos, all taken at The Lake House – some in the house and some in the grounds. Without actually seeing them for himself, it was impossible for Jake to tell whether they were taken before or after he was born – but the photos were old. In all, Marcus counted five people present in the photographs – Jake’s parents, William, Aubrey and a woman Marcus didn’t recognise.
‘What does she look like?’
‘She’s got long hair, almost to her waist, looks kinda thick andsilky and …’
‘Blonde?’
‘Yeah – do you know her?’
