Pictures of Lily

voice falters.
    ‘It’s okay, you can tell me.’
    He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
    I take a deep breath. ‘I fell in love with someone much older than me. I’d only just turned sixteen and he was twenty-eight.’
    Richard frowns, but manages to keep it together.
    ‘Nothing ever happened,’ I say quickly, ‘but I wanted it to. I’ve never been able to forget him.’
    ‘Right . . .’
    ‘He went to England and got married to someone else.’
    ‘Wait,’ he interrupts. ‘Don’t tell me this is the old guy you bumped into recently.’
    I don’t speak.
    ‘Please don’t tell me that,’ he says again.
    Tears well up in my eyes. I nod, ever so slightly.
    ‘Oh, Lily,’ he murmurs. ‘What are you trying to say?’
    I sorely wish I didn’t have to say anything. ‘I’m sorry,’ is what I come out with.
    ‘Sorry for what ?’ I don’t know if it’s anger or frustration or a mixture of both, but he pushes his hand through his dark hair and stares at me directly. ‘Have you fucked him?’
    ‘No!’ I cry, and he visibly contracts with relief.
    ‘Then what’s happened?’ he presses.
    ‘Nothing’s happened.’
    ‘Does he know about me?’
    ‘I told him today.’
    ‘How many times have you seen him?’
    ‘Only a few times.’
    ‘A few times?’ He regards me with disbelief. ‘You only told me about the fishing trip!’
    ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
    ‘And you say nothing’s happened?’ He lets out a sharp laugh.
    ‘No! Nothing has! He came to help me buy that camera . . .’
    ‘Oh, now I get it,’ he says bitterly. ‘So he’s the one who’s been putting stupid ideas into your head.’
    ‘Why are they stupid? See – this is why we have a problem. I feel like you stamp all over my dreams!’
    ‘I’m not trying to crush your dreams, I’m just being realistic,’ he says.
    ‘But why is it so unrealistic to think I might be able to pursue a career in photography?’
    ‘It just is!’
    ‘You haven’t even seen any of my photographs.’
    ‘You haven’t shown me!’
    ‘Because you haven’t demonstrated any interest whatsoever. I don’t feel like showing you, just to have you shit all over them.’
    ‘Nice.’
    ‘It’s true.’
    ‘So show me now.’
    ‘I’m not going to show you now.’
    ‘Why not? Now’s as good a time as any.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I don’t have any with me.’ Which is a lie. And he knows it. He gets to his feet and storms into the hall where I dropped my handbag when I came in. I rush after him.
    ‘Richard!’
    But it’s too late. He’s opened my bag and pulled out the pack. I stare at him in dismay as he starts to flick through them without paying them any attention, commenting sarcastically as he goes.
    ‘Oh, super dooper. I really like your use of colour . . . Fabulous composition, darling.’
    ‘You’re being an arsehole,’ I say angrily.
    And then he comes to the picture of Ben.
    ‘Is this him?’ He’s staring at me accusingly.
    I don’t confirm or deny it.
    ‘This is him? This is the old fucker who’s trying to get into my fiancée’s knickers?’
    ‘It’s not like that,’ I cry.
    ‘What is it like then, Lily? What the fuck is it like? You’d better explain and quick because I’ve had just about enough of this.’ Angry tears fill his eyes as he stares me down.
    ‘Richard.’ It hurts to say his name. It hurts to look at him, at the pain I’ve inflicted. But I have to go on. ‘I love you.’
    He says nothing.
    ‘But I love him too.’
    ‘You love him?’ he bites back. ‘You fucking love him?’
    ‘Please stop swearing at me.’
    ‘What the fuck am I supposed to say?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘I fucking love you! I want to marry you! And you’re telling me you’re in love with someone else? This fucking arsehole?’ He flaps the picture in my face. ‘This fucking arsehole who’s twice your age?’
    ‘He’s only thirty-eight.’ It’s out of my mouth before I realise I should have said nothing.
    ‘Thirty-eight? Thirty-fucking-eight? What a fucking joke.’ He starts to tear the photo into shreds.
    ‘Richard, please stop,’ I beg. ‘I’m sorry.’ Tears begin coursing down my cheeks – not about the photo, but because I know how much I’m hurting him.
    He lets go of the pieces and regards me with fury as they flutter to the ground. I start to sob because I can’t keep it in any longer. I clutch my hand to my chest because it aches so much. I’m in too much of a state to look at him, but