The family group has forty-one people in it and is mostly arrangements about lifts, and the photographs from that barbecue had gone in on the Sunday evening in a run of about twenty-six of them, posted by Kevin’s cousin’s husband, who takes a great many pictures and sorts none of them.

She found it.

She turned the screen round and held it where I could see it without lifting my head.

The full frame is about twice as wide as the cropped one.

On the left-hand side of it are Brian and me on the bench, exactly as in the printed photograph, no different in any respect, his arm round my shoulders, my head back, laughing.

And on the right-hand side, two feet away, coming out of the back door into the sun with a birthday cake held out in front of him in both hands and three sparklers going on the top of it, is my husband.