Vera and Lloyd have just returned from their honeymoon in the country – a gift from her parents. The only gift they’d been able to afford. Vera had been thrilled. At least, she looked it.

I sigh, my finger lightly caressing the image in front of me of a smiling Vera, Lloyd’s arm secure around her waist.

This, the album I have put together of her wedding day, is my gift to her. Not the pictures, mind, as those are ones her father had taken. But everything else is mine.

The hidden messages no one will ever see, are mine.