THE OLD SNAPSHOT
Oi, Granddad! Are those porcini mushrooms? whirled a spry lad round old Mr. Arthurs shoulders. His name suited himBilly, short for William, quick as a squirrel.
Indeed, the weary elder replied, letting out a deep sigh that sounded like a kettle about to boil.
Even though porcinis had been sprouting on the village commons since time immemorial, Arthur found it a tall order to lug a basket brimming with the fleshy caps. So he plonked himself on a rickety bench outside Mrs. Mabels cottage to catch his breath. Mrs. Mabel wasnt his wife, mind youhed tied the knot long before Mabel married her own husband, Tom. In Billys eyes she was a sort of secondgrandma, though shed probably have been called greatgrandma if old Tom hadnt been roaming the nearby towns with his coat tails dragging all the way to the age of forty. The house was empty, save for the odd rustle of a distant memory. Then, just last year, a lanky fellow named George turned up on Mabels doorstep, family in tow. It gave her a right fright. She let out a shriek that the whole village thought was a butchers knife at work. Turned out shed simply been startledby joy.
That summer the town folk swarmed back under the August twilight, and Billy whirled from dawn till dusk on the dusty lanes. What else could a boy do when there were no peers to bother? Hed rather tease the elders. Right then, Arthur needed a breather, and faster still a chance to get home where his wife Emily could sort the mushrooms and soak them while he rubbed his aching feet on the bed. Billy, meanwhile, dangled his plasticwrapped gizmo and, with a grin, thrust it toward Arthurs basket.
Give me a go, will you? he asked.
What, youre a dab hand with that whats it called? A wooden board? the old man muttered, almost forgetting his own knees.
A tablet, sir! Billy announced proudly, lifting his contraption high.
He angled his toy at the basket, and with a click the camera inside sputtered.
Look here! Billy turned the other side of his mockboard toward Arthur, who peered at the little screen and saw a picture of his own basket.
Brilliant! the old fellow exclaimed. Billy, not giving the man a moment to recover, swiped a finger across the image, andpoof!instead of mushrooms a picture of George appeared.
Dad, Billy said with fauximportance, and Arthur blinked, halfexpecting a prank. No joke here: the basket was still there, mushrooms still in place, but Billys finger kept marching.
This is mum, this is our house and thats the Duke, Billy narrated, pointing at a rotund pig trotting on a leash. The pig belonged to Mabels daughter-inlaw, who only ever let it out on a lead. The village folk could never quite fathom why a pig needed a leash, as the cat usually sauntered lazily behind its owner. Then tractorboy Pash shouted, Shes pulling it like a rope!
Granddad, can I snap a photo of you? Billy blurted.
What for? the old man asked, puzzled.
Just you look mighty fine: white beard, strong hands, not like a dad but like a sunkissed hero, Billy stammered, then, desperate to recover, added, Like my granny, only youre a grandpa! He paused, then tossed in, There, thats better.
Arthur chuckled.
Dont dont do that, he began, then stopped himself.
He stared into Billys eyes and asked, You dont mind using film?
What film? Billy asked, bewildered.
The photographic kind.
The next five minutes saw Billy explain that no film was neededEmily would print any picture on the kitchen printer. Arthur felt a spark of energy for the rest of his trek. Before rising, he said, You know what, Billy swing by in an hour. Take a picture of Emily and me, alright?
Alright! the lad shouted, delighted, as Arthur hobbled to his feet.
He hoisted his heavy basketno small feat for a man his ageand shuffled toward the house. A few steps out, he turned back, shouting after the sprinting boy, Billy, dont forget: in an hour!
Got it! came a voice from the lane opposite.
Ah, the scamp, the old man sighed, heading back.
He muttered to himself as he set the basket down on the porch step, One more like this and well be wintering like lords: potatoes and porcinis since meats a luxury these days.
Arthur, whod spent his whole life in the countryside, never ate anything from a shop. Sausages were a city treat, only appearing at grand celebrations when guests arrived. It wasnt that storebought food was bad; it was simply that a farmers life meant he rarely needed anything beyond salt, pepper, and his own produce. After a lifetime of hard work, his teeth no longer craved the occasional slice of supermarket meat.
Enough of the cucumbers and tomatoes, dear, his wife Emily called, trying to lift the basket.
Hold on, you daft thing! Arthur protested, nearly toppling over a step. I told youhold on! His voice softened, Were not after mushrooms right now. Go wash up and put on your favourite dress.
Youre losing it, love? Emily retorted, her voice thick with affection. Are you about to get married again? Weve been together sixty years!
Thats exactly why, Arthur replied slowly, I need a photograph.
A photograph of what?
Of us, of course, he repeated, his brow furrowing. Billy will be here with his gadget soon
You do it yourself, Emily waved her hands, marching proudly into the kitchen.
Arthur, already assuming his stern expression, followed her without looking at the basket.
Emily? Where are you? he asked, entering the cottage. Emily! He found no one.
After a few stumbling steps, he discovered her tucked away behind the ovenher secret hideout from the days they argued. She sat there, face in her hands, silent tears slipping through clenched fingers like rain through a sieve, soaking the faded hem of her old dress.
Arthur opened his mouth, but no words came; his throat tightened. When had they last quarreled? Twenty years ago? Two decades of silent evenings, thenthis sudden silence, out of nowhere
Emily the word escaped him, soft as a whisper, then, gentler still, Ellie
Her shoulders stopped trembling; she lifted her head, eyes wet, and rested it on his cheek. Arthurs beard grew damp with her tears. He began to sob, but Emily cut him off:
Comb your beard while I iron your shirt
Billy arrived half an hour early, but the couple were already set. They sat at the kitchen table, Arthur fiddling with his beard, worried whether the boy had meddled too much. Emily tried to calm his jittery hands, when a sudden bang echoed from the hallway
That night, as they drifted off to sleep, they each examined two photographs. One was a tiny blackandwhite print: a young, freckled girl clutching a massive bouquet of wildflowers, her head resting on a dashing young mans shoulder in a smart suit. Their smiles were wide, and behind them a brick wall bore a bright sign reading Registry Office.
The other was a larger colour photograph: an elderly couple at a table, the ladys head on the mans shoulder, a huge bouquet of garden flowers laid before them, August sun bathing the scene. Their faces mirrored the happiness of that first picture.
They had many other photos, but only these two showed them together, forever captured in both youth and old age.
