Craig Robertson - Snapshot

He was standing outside the mortuary room, with his back leaning against the wall. When Narey came out, he raised his eyebrows by way of a question.

She looked around before shaking her head ruefully in reluctant agreement.

‘You’ve got two minutes, Tony, but if you get caught then as far as I’m concerned, you broke in here and you’re getting nicked.’

Winter’s eyes fell to his camera where they dallied in thought before he lifted his head again and studied the pain etched on Rachel’s face. It was his turn to shake his head.

‘No, you’re right. There will be other times and other photographs. Glasgow isn’t going to turn into Disneyland overnight. That girl deserves some peace. Come on, I want you to come with me.’

‘Where to? I’ve got to deal with McCullough.’

‘After, then. I can wait. I want you to come with me to my mum and dad’s graves. It’s about time you were introduced.’

‘Okay. I’d like that.’ She smiled for the first time that day.

As they emerged blinking into the glare of a watery September sun, Winter was reminded of the basic law of photography which dictates that the process is only possible because of darkness as well as light. For every thing of beauty there has to be an ugly truth.