It was a photocopy of an old black and white portrait, much like the one that used to sit on the side table in the cottage, except this one featured Mair in a beautiful flowing dress. Gwyn stood to her right, a hand on her shoulder looking handsome and proud, and on her left, staring back off the page, was me.
“Must be some strong genes in your family,” the woman said as I stared down at the paper in disbelief. “You can keep that. I’ve got the original at home.”
I was aware that she had turned to leave but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the page and barely managed to whisper goodbye. It wasn’t until Lee grabbed my arm and shook me that I finally looked up again.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, and he began to pace around. “Tom, you were actually fucking there.”
“No,” I said, furrowing my brow and shaking my head at him. “This isn’t right.”
“What do you mean?” He stopped pacing and stood in front of me and I held the sheet out to him, pointing at it.
“That’s Mair,” I said, roughly tapping on the paper. “And that’s Gwyn.”
“And that’s you,” he said, interrupting me.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head again. “I never had this picture taken.”
“You must have.”
“Lee, I’m telling you, I didn’t!”
He scratched his head and stared back at the image I was holding out to him. “So, what does this mean?”
I contemplated for a second, staring at the picture in front of me, then looked at my brother and smiled.
“It means I’m going back.”