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An old album held a wedding photograph on its first page. It looked familiar. A very similar shot had once stood framed on Gran’s dressing table. In it, Gran stood radiant, clutching a bouquet beside the granddad Lucie couldn’t remember. Other photographs showed holidays by the seaside; Christmas mornings crowded around presents; birthdays marked by a homemade cake. Later pages showed Gran, apron on, holding her dad as a baby.

It struck Lucie how full her life was. How so much had happened before she’d ever existed. These weren’t just photographs; they were proof that Gran had lived expansively and left pieces of herself scattered through generations.

She handed the album to Mandy. “Look. Dad as a baby.”

“Ah, look at those cute, podgy cheeks, Pete!”

He rolled his eyes playfully and turned his attention to another album. “This one has you in it, Mands. It must have been one of the first Christmases you spent with us.”

“We should digitise these,” Lucie suggested. “Attic conditions really aren’t great for them.”

“Good idea. I can sort that for you if you want?”

“Thanks, Mands,” Lucie said, realising she had no idea how to do it beyond taking a photograph of the existing pictures on her phone.

“We should do this one, too,” her dad said quietly, passing her another album.

“What’s in it?” Lucie asked, taking it from him.

She opened it before he could answer, the spine creaking softly in response. Inside were faded baby photographs of herself. She was round-cheeked and solemn in one photo, mid-laugh in another, her tiny fists clutching at a soft toy.

Then she saw her mum, head bent toward Lucie as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at. In another picture, her mum held her against her chest, cheek pressed to soft baby hair, eyes closed. In another, she was grinning at something just out of frame, Lucie balanced on her hip.

An empty space at the bottom of one page made her think of the photo on her dad’s bedside table of her mum holding her. He must have taken it from here. She hadn’t realised until now that it was one of many photos taken at the time and then tucked away in the attic.

Mandy rested a hand on her shoulder as Lucie traced her mum’s face with her finger. She had no clear memories of her, but these pages were proof she had been loved unconditionally. Seeing her mum beaming at her like that, filled her chest with a deep ache.

“She adored you,” her dad said quietly.

Lucie swallowed, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “I can see,” she whispered. She closed the albums, wanting to look at it properly alone sometime.

“Look, isn’t that your gran’s brolly?” Mandy said, passing a black umbrella to Lucie.

“She used to dance around it doing an impression of Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain,” her dad said with a chuckle.

Lucie smiled, turning the curved, wooden handle in her hands. “I’d forgotten that.”

She could see now why her dad had kept everything. Getting rid of it all would feel like parting with Gran all over again.

“We don’t have to clear everything, Dad,” she suggested. “Maybe just the clothes and things we’re less attached to.”

“If everything’s a treasure, then nothing is,” Mandy observed.

Her dad nodded slowly.

Two hours later, they had almost sorted all of Gran’s belongings into piles, the ‘keep’ one representing less than half of what was there. A glance at her watch told Lucie she was going to have to leave the rest to Mandy and her dad.

“I hate to disappear in the middle of all this,” she announced, “but I have to go.”

“I thought you weren’t working until five,” her dad said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

“Frances invited me over for Boxing Day lunch.”

“Oh, really?” Mandy said, a hint of song in her voice. “Wrap up well, the snow is really coming down. We should nip next door and rustle up some leftovers before we open up, Pete. It’s a good job we open a bit later today.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll just check this box first.”

“Romantic lunch for two then?” Lucie shot back with a snigger as she disappeared down the hatch.