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a conversation about this before - several conversations in fact. Having my face on the front of a maga zine does nothing for me and… good God , will you look at my outfit? Someone call the fashion police . W hat was I thinking? Horizontal stripes do nothing for me ,’ Freya announced, as she picked up the magazine and studied it more closely.
    ‘ I think it’s quite a nice picture . S ee how the photographer got the light just right? I think this was taken around dusk, going by the shadows ,’ Sasha told her.
    ‘ Are you trying to impress me , Sasha ? T his picture was taken when we visited the Carlton Genera l Hospital to donate some money. I t was definitely dusky, good spot ,’ Freya answered her.
    ‘ Whoever took it has captured Nick really well ,’ Sasha said , studying the photograph.
    ‘ He ’ s the most photogenic person I know . I could take a picture of him sat on the toilet and he would still come out looking amazing. Note the hint of jealousy .’
    ‘ He has a great bone structure .’
    ‘ Yes he does . B ut enough now or next you ’ ll be asking for a poster to go above your bed ,’ Freya said.
    S he picked up the magazine and dropped it in the bin.
    ‘ Sorry ,’ Sasha apologised .
    ‘That’s OK. I t’s you and half of the female population of the world. I am one lucky lady , but don’t worry, I do know it,’ Freya answered with a smile.
     
     
    As she had no appointments that morning , Freya took her equipment and drove to County Bridge. County Bridge was ten miles north of Carlton and one of the five old bridges , all in a thirty mile radius of the city . Freya ha d been told about their existence by Casey, who ran the diner in Mayleaf . The ir history was they were over a hundred years old and had been built by a group of Christians for the purpose of giving the surrounding towns easy access across the river to the area ’ s churches. All of the bridges were different in their style. T wo had arches, two had a straight design and County Bridge, Freya’s particular favourite , was a mixture of both . That bridge had an inscription on one of the spindles halfway across which read Glory to the Father, leave sorrow behi nd and take hope from the past .
    Freya had taken to photographing all the bridges and had built up quite a collection of pictures. Her favourite time of day for capturing them was in the early morning when the mist was on the water and the sun was just starting to rise. It was important to have the light just right when taking photos of the bridges, as unlike most of the wooden structures in the area , t he Christian Fathers Bridges , as they were known, were painted black.
    Freya stood on one side of the river and waited for the bird she was watching to land on the bridge. It was a black crow with a huge beak, scanning the water for flies it was chasing and catching. It flapped its wings and Freya took a picture.
    Crows were the only birds she had ever seen at the bridges . It surprised her as the surrounding area was grass and marsh. She would have expected to see a more varied selection of birds. She ’ d also never seen any fish in the river near the bridges, although she knew further downstream there was an abundance of trout and carp . She knew this because whenever she walked along the bank to take photographs of the bridges up stream , there w ere usually a t least two or three fishermen.
    The crow left the bridge and Freya took her favourite camera, Claude, away from her eye and let it hang from her neck. She named all her cameras and Claude was given to her by Nicholas as a late birthday present just after they first met.
    Freya walked across the bridge and stopped in the middle to read the inscription as she did every time she visited.
    ‘ Glory to the Father, leave sorrow behind and take hope from the past ,’ Freya spoke out loud.
    She ran her fingers across the words, feeling the indents made in the black wood. Freya had interpreted it to mean there had