Finally clearing the packed bookcase in their bedroom, Anna found the photograph tucked in the pages of a battered Andy McNab paperback that Peter had read on the beach last summer.

She slipped the photo out and held it between her thumb and forefinger.

At first glance she thought the picture was of their daughter, Olivia, but while the young woman in the
photograph had the same wavy chestnut hair and similar svelte figure, she held herself with a confidence that, even at 21, Olivia still didn’t have, with her shoulders back and her chin up.

The girl in the photograph wore a strappy white top that accentuated both her tanned skin and firm breasts. She was looking directly into the camera and a knowing smile lifted her full red lips.

The girl was Elodie, Olivia’s friend from university who’d spent a fortnight at their house in Sevenoaks over the summer.

She’d seemed far more mature than her years and Anna had found her company awkward. Unsettling.

‘It’s that look on her face,’ she had said to Peter as they cleared away the table after dinner on the first evening of Elodie’s stay. ‘While you’re talking to her, she’s looking right through you. Like she’s not listening to anything you’re saying.’

Peter had shaken his head. ‘She’s not been like that with me,’ he said. ‘She seems very attentive.’ He gently rubbed her shoulder and smiled. ‘I think you’re reading too much into it.’

And maybe she had.

But what was she to read into this now? This photograph of a 21 year old girl that her husband had been holding onto.

Her hand trembled as she slipped the photo back between the pages of the book and returned the book to its position on the shelf.
 

Despite mentally rehearsing what she would say to Peter for the whole afternoon, it wasn’t until they were in bed that night that Anna brought up the subject of the photograph.

‘I was clearing the bookshelf today,’ she said, surprised at how calm she sounded. ‘And I found a photograph in one of your old books.’ She paused. ‘It was of Elodie, Olivia’s friend. Why do you have a photograph of her, Peter?’

He put down his book and looked at her. ‘I know what it must look like,’ he said. ‘But it’s not what it seems.’

Anna felt her heart begin race. ‘Tell me.’

Peter sighed. ‘I should have just got rid of that picture. I don’t know why I kept it. While she was here, Elodie developed something of a crush on me. I don’t know if you noticed, but she spent so much time with me. Listening to my old vinyl. Asking for book recommendations. If I stayed up late working, she’d find some reason to come and talk to me. It got to the point that I had to be quite stern with her. I had to tell her that I had a lot to do and that, if she wanted to spend the night talking, she should go and wake Olivia.  

Anyway, she wrote to me at the office when she’d gone back to Bordeaux. That’s when she sent that picture. The one you found. She said she was depressed in France, that she couldn’t stop thinking about me. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never given her any sign of encouragement.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this at the time?’ Anna asked. ‘If all this was happening, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I don’t know. I should have. I know I should have. If I’m honest, I suppose I found the whole thing flattering. I’m fifty years of age, Anna. That a girl of Elodie’s age could find me attractive was implausible, but I felt like it gave me a new lease of life. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want that bubble to burst. And that’s incredibly selfish of me. I know that. And I’m sorry.’

They were silent for a moment before Anna asked, ‘So nothing happened.’

‘Nothing happened.’

‘But did you want it to?’

Peter rested his hand on hers. ‘I wouldn’t jeopardise what we have, Anna. Like I said, I was flattered, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to you.’

He kissed her then and they made love for the first time in what felt like months.

Peter fell asleep soon after, his arm draped over Anna’s side, but she stayed awake.

She believed him. Of course she believed him. Elodie had been a troubled young woman. She’d known that from her own observations and from what Olivia had told her of her background.

She didn’t doubt his account of the story. No, that wasn’t what kept her from sleep.

What kept her awake was wondering if she’d have had the same self-discipline.

If a man in his twenties had found her attractive and pursued her as Elodie had Peter, would she have had the strength to turn him away?

She wasn’t sure. She just wasn’t sure at all.