13 - Maeve
Stella’s room had been left undisturbed.
Kathleen opened the wardrobe and got a metal box. In the box was a single photo album. Analog pictures, dating from before y2k.
We sat on the bed, side by side, while Kathleen commented the pictures. Her voice was flat, again, like a defensive system, keeping at bay the strong emotions that could sink her.
One of the pictures showed a younger version of her, in a white gown trimmed with lace, with a broad-shouldered man in a tuxedo by her elbow, a bouquet hiding their hands. Her hair had been a lustrous rich brown. The hairdresser had been skilled.
The background, the sea, the position spoke of a professional photographer’s work. There were other pictures in the book. The wedding guests assembled for a group picture, happy couple cen
