The Photo Read online

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  A Short Story by

  Jamie J. Buchanan

  Copyright 2012 Jamie J. Buchanan

  As Diane sat down in the sitting room of Gina’s place, she looked around the room. This was the first time she had been back to her place since the accident – that one fateful moment which changed Gina’s world. Diane noticed, with some awkwardness, that Gina’s life had certainly taken a turn for the worse.

  This room used to be immaculate. The coffee table, solid oak, now had two small coffee-ring stains – marks that would never have been there six months ago. The jarrah floorboards showed up the dust that had accumulated for the last few weeks – static electricity drew the particles to the TV as well, hazing the screen. Diane could see small spider webs forming in the dried bamboo arrangement in the ceramic vase, and small crack appearing where it had previously fallen but not been repaired.

  This was not like Gina – this place used to be pristine. She meticulously cleaned and fussed over the appearance of her house to the point of obsession – Diane felt that Gina might even have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder given the pedantic sanitary regime the whole house used to have.

  But, as she had previously considered, that was all before “the incident”.

  Both of them had previously danced around the subject of Paul and the kids, but they hadn’t really gone into this in any depth. Had Gina been one of Diane’s best friends it would have been a different matter, but they only played tennis together once a week. They were friends, but not so close as to share intimate details. They would talk about their family, or their lives in general, but it was a surface relationship without any real depth. Diane had been to Gina’s a few times before, always noticing how wonderful and clean the place looked, liked a display home. But their friendship wasn’t as close as it could have been.

  Diane was surprised when Gina came back to the club to play tennis – she thought that she’d never see her again. It was Paul who was the keen tennis player and Gina only played so that they had something they could do together. But, when Gina rang her to say she was coming back and wanted to know if her spot was still available, how could Diane say no?

  “Do you take sugar? I can never remember,” Gina asked as she brought in the coffees. Their game today had been a pretty leisurely affair as most of their games were. None of the girls they played with took tennis seriously; it was just a bit of light exercise and an excuse to catch up really.

  “Yes thanks, Gina, just one,” Diane replied as she sat on the leather sofa, noticing a slight rip in the corner of the seat, the white cotton filling inside poking through the hole ever so slightly. “I can’t remember the last time I was here,” she said and instantly wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to remind Gina of the last time she was there – because that would include Paul and the kids.

  “I think about six months ago – when we had a BBQ on that Sunday,” Gina didn’t look upset but Diane could tell she was thinking about “it”, the past flooding back.

  “That’s right – I remember it was stinking hot that day,” Diane replied all the while thinking to herself: Change the subject, keep it light, and don’t mention Paul or the kids.

  “Yes it was.” And then Gina recalled everything. “The kids were in the pool, shooting those water pistols at everyone – it was soooo funny. The men were inside watching the cricket – My God how that game bores me – while we were out there keeping the little monsters amused by getting soaked.”

  Despite herself, Diane smiled at the recollection– it was a really good one indeed. Great company, nice cool pool on a hot day and fantastic food and wine. She looked at Gina and saw Gina’s smile fade, her eyes glazed over and hardened a little – she was only just keeping it together.

  “Oh I’m sorry, Gina, I didn’t mean…” Diane was genuinely sorry for Gina – she didn’t want to upset her. But, in this house, everything reminded her of the past. If something like that had happened to her, Diane knew that she would never live in her home again. She couldn’t face all those memories at every turn.

  “No, no…I’m fine really.” Gina didn’t cry, but Diane could see that she wanted too. She could also see that Gina looked tired – tired of remembering, tired of mourning, and tired of crying.

  “We don’t have to talk about it if you…” Diane’s voice trailed off hoping that Gina would change the subject onto something lighter and less awkward. Gina must have known what Diane was thinking because she did lighten the mood, though without changing the subject. If she abruptly changed it to something else, that would have been even worse.

  “I have some photos of that day, too, actually.” She grabbed a photo album out from under the coffee table. Diane noticed that there were several albums under there. “I save all the photos digitally, but I still like printing them out and keeping them in an album. It’s more real for me.”

  Diane knew exactly what she meant. By having a hard copy, printed version of the photo, the images became more tangible, more real. They weren’t just specs of light on a computer screen, part of them was still alive when Gina held them in her hands.

  She opened the album and the bright photos showed the light and sun of that day, the beautiful clear blue of the pool and the beaming faces of all the kids. With Gina’s, Diane’s and the others’ kids, there were about ten of them in the pool in total. The photos showed happy, fit, sun-tanned kids playing in the water. There were a few photos of the guys sitting in the sitting room where Diane sat now, facing the TV with some cricket game on. Diane saw her husband, Adrian, all blonde hair and muscles outshining the rest of the guys – well, in her view anyway. Paul was there as well and it instantly hit her.

  She now remembered that feeling of foreboding she had that day – like she knew that this idyllic lifestyle was destined for ruin. She had forgotten that feeling until this moment, when seeing those photos brought it flooding back to her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt, after leaving the party, that something bad was about to happen in that place. Everyone was so happy that to have that dark cloud of doom invade her thoughts seemed so out of place she dismissed it.

  Then, two weeks later, Paul and the kids were dead. In that house too. It was an accident, electrical accidents do happen, but to kill all three of them whilst Gina was at the shops was just horrific.

  Oh God, thought Diane, I think I knew it would happen.

  Gina was talking, but Diane’s thoughts were still miles away as she wondered if there was anything she could have done.

  “Sorry, Gina, what was that?” She asked.

  “Oh I was just saying that I think this is the only photo of me from that day. I mean, I take all the photos so it’s rare I’m actually in one.” She showed the photo to Diane.

  Diane let out a little scream and jumped away from the album, leaping back onto the sofa.

  “What is it?” said Gina, alarmed now, like maybe Diane had seen a spider or a snake or something.

  “My God, can’t you see it?” Diane exclaimed, her hands shaking as she put the coffee mug back on the table, spilling hot liquid on the floor, sofa and table.

  “See what?” asked Gina, now frantically looking under the table for the mouse or spider that must be crawling around under there.

  “In the photo…behind you!”

  Goosebumps raised themselves on Diane’s arms and neck as she looked at the photo again. It was a shot of herself, Gina, Mariah and Grace standing under the patio in front of the pool fence. They all had a glass of white wine in their hands, huge beaming half-drunk grins on their faces. Directly behind Gina stood a dark figure, its eyes burning fire red and its face grinned wildly. It towered above them, long dark matted hair snaked it’s way over the beast’s shoulders. Its malicious grin mimicked those of the women, shar
p fangs were exposed, a forked tongue hung out lasciviously lapping at Gina’s ear. Diane could see long bony fingers around Gina’s shoulder as the demon looked like it was bringing her in for a cuddle, sharpened nails digging into her shoulder.

  “What? What?” Asked Gina, still looking for the spider as she now stood on the sofa.

  “Is that some sort of joke?” Anger started to build in Diane now. Surely Gina wasn’t making some sort of sick joke, trying to scare Diane? If so, maybe she really was losing her marbles as some of the women at the club thought.

  “What are you talking about?” Gina asked, calming and hopping down from the sofa.

  “In that photo, behind you.”

  “There’s nothing behind me,” said Gina, “except the pool.”

  “You mean you can’t see it?”

  “See what? What are you getting at?” Now Gina was starting to get upset. She had opened up to Diane a little bit and would open up more if she felt she could trust her. Now she