It would be politically incorrect, in fact insulting, to say that Louis was as gay as a row of pink tents. But he was; everyone said so. The way he would dress up and get photographed in poses that made it look like he was straight out of an old photography gallery. But he was as alive today as you and me. He was… well… pink tents doesn’t quite capture it.
He would get a new photograph taken about once a month, always in a different costume, always in sepia, always horribly posed. He had them on his fridge in rows (Louis was terribly ordered) under little fridge magnets of various vegetables. There was a turnip magnet when he was dressed as a pirate, and a lettuce magnet when he was a sultan, and so on. There were about twenty photographs altogether. Goodness! He almost needed a bigger fridge!
When Louis died, quite suddenly, his two sisters cleaned up his house. There wasn’t a great deal there; nothing overly personal; just a few household items that they sold to the second-hand store. There was the fridge of course. A used fridge doesn’t fetch much, but a few dollars is a few dollars.
They didn’t know what to do with the photographs. Berwyn said she would keep them and put them in her family album. That was very kind of her, because she disliked the silly photographs immensely.
While putting them in the album, Berwyn noticed something. She’d never noticed it before. Each photograph was dated on the back. What she noticed made Berwyn check the newspapers around each date.
Goodness. Surely not.