Pippa looked across at Freya.
“I never met him. Did you?”
“Once or twice,” said Freya. “And then he only stayed a couple of days. Luke said he worked really hard.”
“Strange,” said Lenny, sadly. “To think the two of you know members of a family I never met.”
Freya stared at him and appeared to remember something at that remark. She pulled the bag away from her chest and drew out a large brown envelope.
“I brought some old photographs. Ones I’ve kept over the years. Thought you might like to have a look.”
She reached inside and placed the small pile into the middle of the table. While Lenny sorted through the Polaroids with Pippa, Adrian picked up the single, larger monochrome shot of the group, worn and wrinkled but still sharp and clear, taken using what must have been a quality, maybe even professional, camera.
In the photo, the young man who was obviously Luke sat cross-legged in the middle of them all, beaming happily at the camera. In the bloom of youth, he had been a beautiful boy—transitioning into a handsome young man—with similar features to young Lenny and even sporting the same messy mop of chestnut hair Adrian remembered on Lenny from school. No wonder Pippa thought she had seen Luke’s ghost when she came to the house. To his left, the somewhat masculine features of a young Freya had been caught in a candid moment as she smiled adoringly at Luke, so different from the tired and faded woman sitting opposite. Pippa on Luke’s right, also caught unexpectedly, had been captured as she glanced sideways up at the camera. Older than the rest, she sat almost kneeling with her legs tucked to one side, a thick textbook open on the grass in front, her fair hair worn long and falling over one side of her pretty face. In the background, a boy that had to be Howie crouched down behind Luke, his tongue poked out and his hands placed either side of his forehead to look like antlers. Even pulling the funny face, and except for wearing his dark hair short, the resemblance to Freya was unmistakable. Overtly masculine, he had the same square chin and a Roman nose, the same bright eyes beneath thick eyebrows.
“My father took that one. In their back garden at Bryn Bach,” said Freya.
“I thought you said Luke’s mother didn’t like him having friends to the house?”
“She didn’t,” said Pippa. “But like I said, he used to come down at least a week earlier. To get the place ready for the family, he’d say. His dad was in sales and the head office was in Shrewsbury, so he used to drop Luke off here. And then we’d all usually help Luke out. The rest of the time, we’d just hang out together.”
“His real family,” added Freya.
“Can you show me the photo?” asked Pippa.
Adrian handed her the picture, and they examined the group together.
“Goodness,” said Pippa, chucking softly, running her fingers over the surface. “I remember this well. I must have been twenty, in my second year at Durham, studying business management. That’s my huge economics book laid out in front of me.”
“How old would Luke have been?” asked Lenny.
“Eighteen,” said Freya. “Same as me. But he always looked and acted older.”
“Who’s this?” asked Lenny, holding a Polaroid up.
In the faded photo a chubby girl with her brown hair tied back in a severe ponytail ate the remains of an ice lolly, her lips a deep raspberry colour.
“That’s Mary, Matthew’s twin sister,” said Pippa. “She was okay. In small doses. Fancied the pants off of Howie. She’d often agree be Luke’s decoy, telling his mother they’d gone for a hike so Luke could meet up with us. He’d bribe Mary with ice creams and sweets and the promise of time with Howie so she wouldn’t snitch on him. We still exchange Christmas cards each year.”
“Is anyone eating?” asked Adrian, halfway through his beer.
The question appeared to stir something in Freya, and she quickly finished her drink.
“I have to go,” she said, squeezing into her waterproof and pulling a closed umbrella from her bag. “My cats need feeding. And I have dinner already prepared at home.”
Adrian noticed the disappointment in Lenny. He’d enjoyed looking through the old photographs.
“Well, thanks for coming and showing us these, Freya—” he began, collecting them up and placing them back into the envelope.
“No, no,” she said, putting her bony hand on top of his. “I brought these for you. I thought you’d like to keep them. I have copies of the larger ones and lots of other Polaroids.”
With Freya gone, they ordered food and drinks, and the atmosphere relaxed noticeably. Pippa handed an envelope to Lenny— the contract for the landscaping work—which Lenny skimmed through and signed at the table. Adrian took the opportunity to chat with Pippa.
“Freya was in love with Luke, wasn’t she?”
Pippa choked on the vodka she had been drinking.
“How did you know?” she asked, eyes wide.
