Photograph

Madeline skipped down the staircase, her heavy footfalls echoing through the quiet house. When her shoes clicked onto the first floor landing she paused.
“Mum?” She called. “Mum, where are you?” She clutched a bundle of black cloth to her chest.
“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie.” Her mother answered up the stairs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay!” Madeline responded, continuing down the next flight of stairs. “I was in the attic!” The ten year old bounced into the kitchen with as much fervour as her bundle would allow.
“I thought I heard banging.” Her mother mused, wiping her hands on her apron, leaning back from the exquisite cake she was decorating. “Did you break something?” She surveyed her daughter with a suspicious eye.
Madeline had to think about it, wide eyed. She shook her head and set her parcel up on the bench top.
“Look!” She exclaimed, clambering onto a stool. Her mother leaned forward, curious, lifting the black material.
“What have you found?”
“I found it in the attic.” Madeline explained and helped to clear away the cloth.
“I figured as much.” Her mother sighed. “What… Ah.”
Inside the folds of material was a wooden picture frame. Madeline grasped it between nimble, young fingers and stood it upright.
“Who’s that pretty lady, mum?” Madeline pointed at the woman in the extravagant white dress. Her mother reached out and touched the glass sadly.
“That’s me, Maddy. A long time ago.” She explained.
“Really? Your dress is so pretty!” Madeline said in wonder, leaning forward to examine it more closely. “Who’s that man holding your hand?”
“That’s your father.” She answered. Madeline looked up at her.
“Have I met him?”
“No, sweetie.”
“Will I ever meet him?”
Her mother paused, silent, looking far away. “Not in this life, Maddy.”