by Carol Rivers
Vic leaned against the rail and winked slyly at Connie, who smothered a grin. Alice flung herself at her father. Squeezing him tight she burst out, ‘I knew you was joking!’
Vic hugged his daughter, kissing the top of her silky head. He glanced at Lucky. ‘Well, son, what do you say to a stroll in the Alps?’
‘Me mates are never gonna believe it.’
‘Well, you can thank your Uncle Billy for the inspiration.’ Vic glanced at his beautiful wife. ‘When we visit him, we’ll all say a big thank you.’
‘Will he hear us, Dad?’ Alice asked.
‘He’ll hear us. Gran will too. Wouldn’t be surprised if a voice didn’t boom down in reply either.’ Vic ruffled her hair and slid the Brownie box camera from its case strung across his shoulder. ‘Now, all of you slap great big smiles across your faces and say cheese to the camera.’
Vic watched his family eagerly arrange themselves for the photograph. Behind them was a vast, clear blue day and, when the ferry dipped, a glimpse of aquamarine ink. And somewhere beyond this was Calais and Caen and Billy’s last resting place, soon to be honoured by a long overdue visit from the Champions.
‘Right – on the count of three!’ Vic lifted the camera. His eye found the viewfinder and he saw his children standing on either side of his wife, arms linked and smiles stretched wide across happy faces. Slowly but surely a layer of pastel colours began to appear around them. Pinks, lemons, greens and blues, a halo that trickled itself around the three people he loved most in the world. The lights grew brighter and more exquisite, until, holding his breath, he blinked, looked again, then snapped the image for posterity.
