The Secret of the Old Photograph
Oliver and Emily studied in the same class. She was just another girl, nothing special—or so he thought. But one day, whether it was the right moment to fall in love or something in her had changed, Oliver looked at Emily differently, as if seeing her for the first time. The world flipped upside down, everything glowing in the eyes of a smitten boy.
After lectures, he waited for her by the university gates. But she rushed past without noticing, straight into the arms of another man. They walked off together, leaving Oliver standing there long after they vanished, swallowing disappointment and frustration.
What had he expected? That she’d wait around for him to finally notice her? A girl like Emily was bound to have someone.
One day, she arrived at university with red, puffy eyes, quiet and distant the entire day. This time, no one met her after class, and Oliver worked up the courage to approach.
“Heading home?” he asked.
“No, to my gran’s. I’m staying with her now—she’s unwell.”
Emily explained her grandmother had high blood pressure and bad joints, worse in spring. Some days, she couldn’t even leave the house.
Oliver barely listened, too busy floating on cloud nine just walking beside her. His heart thumped in time with the name echoing in his head: *Emily, Emily, Emily.*
She lived three stops from the university.
“Can’t invite you in. Gran’s not feeling well,” she apologized at her door.
The next day, Oliver asked how her gran was.
“Fine. But Mum turned up last night with her new husband. Gran got so worked up, her pressure spiked—we had to call an ambulance. I wish Mum hadn’t come at all.”
*Ah. So Emily and her stepdad don’t get along. Maybe that’s why she moved in with her gran.* Oliver didn’t pry.
Before summer exams, Emily’s grandmother passed away. Oliver stayed by her side through it all, offering what comfort he could. After the funeral, Emily remained in her gran’s flat.
“Not scared of Gran’s ghost?” Oliver teased one evening as he walked her home.
“No. She had a temper, but she was kind to me, at least.”
One day, Oliver finally asked about the man who used to meet her at uni. Emily’s face darkened.
“He married my mum. Now he’s my stepdad.” She hid her face in her hands.
After their first exam, Emily invited Oliver over. The flat was old-fashioned, filled with heavy furniture and faded wallpaper, but he liked it. An album lay on the table.
“Mind if I look?”
“Go ahead. I was picking a photo for Gran’s grave…” Emily joined him on the sofa, flipping through and offering brief explanations.
“That’s me as a baby. And there’s Mum and Dad—before I was born.”
“They’re divorced?” Oliver recalled her mum’s recent remarriage.
“Yeah. Dad couldn’t handle Mum’s temper. They split when I was little. He’s got a new family now—we don’t talk.”
Oliver pointed to a stern-looking woman with pursed lips.
“That’s Gran, unfiltered. She was like that toward the end.” Emily turned the page.
“And here she is young. Pretty, right?”
The photograph showed a smiling girl in a floral dress—so different from the woman he’d just seen, Oliver hardly believed it was the same person. He said nothing.
Emily turned the page again.
“Wait—go back.” Oliver pointed to another photo of the young woman, this time arm-in-arm with a man. “Who’s that with her?”
“No idea. A friend or relative, maybe. Gran never looked at this album with me, so I never asked.” She frowned. “Oliver… what’s wrong?”
He’d gone pale.
“I should go.” He snapped the album shut, dust swirling. “I’ll call tomorrow.” He hesitated at the door, as if deciding whether to speak, then left without another word.
Instead of going home, Oliver took the Tube across London to his grandfather’s house, lost in thought the entire ride.
“Oliver! Didn’t expect you. Been ages. Come in.” His grandfather beamed.
“How’s uni? Passing everything? Any romantic prospects?” The questions came rapid-fire as Oliver kicked off his trainers.
“Fine. Aced my first exam today.”
“Brilliant. I’ll put the kettle on—we’ll celebrate.”
Once his grandfather left, Oliver went to the bookshelf.
“What’re you after?” His grandfather’s quiet return made him jump.
“That old photo album…”
“Ah. Moved it down here.” His grandfather pulled it from a lower drawer. “Who’re you looking for?” His stare was sharp.
Oliver sat and leafed through the pages. His grandfather watched, puzzled, until Oliver stopped at a torn photograph.
“Is this you? Why’s it cut in half? Who was on the other side?”
His grandfather flinched.
“Don’t remember. Just half a photo, that’s all.” But his eyes betrayed unease.
“I was at a girl’s place today. She showed me her gran’s album—and there’s the same photo, but whole. You’re hugging a young woman. Her grandmother.”
His grandfather stood abruptly and paced. The kettle screeched; he went to silence it but didn’t return. Oliver found him at the kitchen table, head in hands.
“Grandad… you alright?” Oliver laid the torn photo down.
“What’s her name? This girl of yours?”
“Emily.”
“And her gran?”
Oliver remembered seeing a framed photo at Emily’s—dates and a full name on the back.
“Margaret Eleanor Whitmore.” He paused. “You knew her, didn’t you? Before Nan?”
“Just tell me the name.” The old man’s voice was strained.
Oliver obliged.
His grandfather exhaled shakily.
“No such thing as coincidence. Run all you like—the past always catches up.” He sighed deeply, suddenly looking older, weighed down.
Oliver had never seen him like this.
“I love Emily. I need to know what happened between you and her gran.”
His grandfather rubbed his face.
“Youth’s full of mistakes. Reckless ones. Maybe telling you’ll keep you from making the same.”
“Emily isn’t a mistake.”
“We’ll see.”
***
“I was born after the war, grew up proper, believed in doing right. Army, then a job at the railway works. That’s where I met Margaret—Maggie. Stunning, she was. Head over heels, I was.”
Men warned him—Maggie had a reputation. But he didn’t care.
“I courted her proper. Flowers, walks home. Then one day, she let me. Proposed not long after—and she said yes.”
They married quietly. The works gave them a flat. At first, bliss. Then he noticed changes.
“She was expecting. Too soon, I thought. Asked her straight—and she admitted it. ‘Think they’d have given us this flat otherwise? I’d not have looked twice at you,’ she said.”
It cut deep, but he forgave her.
“Then one day, came home early—found her with the works manager. Threw him out. Lost my job after that. Maggie stopped pretending she cared. Packed a bag and left.”
He found work on a construction site, met Oliver’s grandmother.
“Not a beauty, but steady. Good cook. Didn’t realize what I had.” He sighed. “Never forgot Maggie, though.”
They had a son—Oliver’s uncle—who drowned at seven. A year later, Oliver’s father was born.
“Then I ran into Maggie again. Thought I was over her. Wasn’t. She’d had a daughter—sent her to relatives in the country. Said she was ill, not long to live. Played on my pity.”
His wife saw through it.
*”Go if you must. We’ll manage.”* Not a tear shed.
“I packed that same bag. Couldn’t do it. Your nan was right—Maggie lied. Only just died now, apparently.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Your nan… never the same after our boy died. Heart trouble after. My fault.”
***
“And now you’re in love with Maggie’s granddaughter.” His grandfather shook his head. “Judge for yourself what that means. If Emily’s like her…”
“She’s not. She loved her gran. Said her mum and gran never got on—now I know why. Her mum never forgave being shipped away.”
“Just be careful.”
Oliver showed him a photo of Emily.
“Serious girl. Well… God help you.” His grandfather exhaled. “Never thought I’d speak of Maggie again. Of all the girls, you picked *her* kin.”
“For me, there’s no one else.”
After Oliver left, his grandfather reopened the album, retrieving the hidden half of the photo.
*”Dead now. Broke my heart and still won’t let me be.”* He tucked it away, sitting in the gatheringAs Oliver stepped out into the evening rain, he whispered Emily’s name like a promise, determined to love her without letting the shadows of the past darken their future.
