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When they were kids, Emmett had a Panasonic projector. Best projector money could buy and, according to Emmett, a bloody humdinger. Now, looking back, Louisa realises that Emmett was always looking for protection from things that might go wrong and buying the best was just a dear form of protection.

After the funeral, Peter sets up the Panasonic in the old shop. The rickety screen stands there on its skinny tripod legs with that great rip in the reflective fabric that Emmett taped up all those years ago. Louisa thinks of Emmett fussing in the spirit of his sons as they ready the gear. And the photos seem like a kind of love.

They laugh and they’re respectful with the pictures of each other, the youngest kids are in them all and the older kids aren’t in many because they never liked the camera much, certainly not after Rob tried to boil it when he was ten by dropping it in the billy. Another picnic that didn’t end well.

They’re perched on the ends of the couch, some stand behind it, so many of them now that others have joined the family. Peter holds the globe in with a tea towel because the old projector is on its last legs but the globe overheats and cuts out intermittently.

Everyone laughs at the shot of the four of them, Louisa in those pink bathers with the little skirt and her plaits carefully folded into a shower cap and Rob, Peter and Daniel all in blue Speedos. In the picture the light is yellow and the sun not past burning them. Anne is sitting on the crate having a smoke, watching. She’s wearing khaki shorts and a striped top and on her feet her thongs are worn to the thinnest shaving of rubber. Her hair is brown curls and as she looks at the kids her smile is love itself.

The children grab onto each other with some concentration because the floor of the pool is slippery on the concrete and Emmett has them all leaping in at once. The hose fills the pool with shining water. They hold each other with reliable comfort as if the other’s arms were there just for them.

Frank’s tail is caught in the picture as he moves about in the cycle of here and there that is dogs. They gaze at this photo as if it’s a cure and ignore the warning of the low buzzing that begins just above silence and is coming from the projector.

The life-sized picture of the four of them is still up on the screen. Seeing Daniel again connects them with the loss that breached them. Looking at the picture lasts many heartbeats and then someone notices the smell of burning and yells, ‘Something’s bloody ON FIRE!’ And Peter jerks his hand away and the tea towel falls into a small burning knot on the floor. He stands on it to put it out. When that picture fades, childhood is finally over.