"We need a system," I suggested, looking in mock dismay at the thick stack of photographs that had overflowed from the box and now lay scattered in undignified untidiness across the polished surface of the table.
"Right. You start there," indicating the box. "Sort them into piles. Recent family pictures of you, your brothers and your mother go on this pile. Post war pictures go here. Early twentieth century here. And anything older here. OK?"
"Right," I agreed. "Could we have some coffee first?" It had been a long day for me and I was starting to feel like I was about to collapse in a heap of strung out emotions and sheer physical exhaustion.
"Absolutely. I'll go get us some, while you crack on. I'll start looking through the older photos again as soon as I get back."
I nodded. Crack on, I thought. More like crack up. I glanced at the bright blip on the map. Angus' tracker. It seemed like that was all I had left of him. I didn't even have one picture of him. I was suddenly desperately sure that I'd never see him again. All the terror and anguish I'd been bottling up over the past 48 hours swept over me and I started sobbing uncontrollably. I lay my head on my arms and leaned on the table, ignoring the tears that ran down my face and onto the wooden surface that held all those inscrutable photographs with their impenetrable mysteries. I didn't care. I couldn't care.
All that I was, there and then, was grief.
I didn't hear Julia return, but I knew she was back when I felt a hand on my shoulder. She said nothing, just let me cry until I couldn't cry anymore. She disappeared for a few seconds then and reappeared with a box of tissues.
She waited in sympathetic silence as I mopped up my tears and sniffed.
"Thanks," I said, glancing at her, feeling slightly ashamed of my outburst. She said nothing, just smiled gently and squeezed my shoulder.
"You need to sleep."
"I can't," I told her. The idea of closing my eyes and having all the awfulness of what could be happening back in the UK flickering through my mind like a depraved B grade movie terrified me.
"Why don't you lie down on that sofa for a few minutes, then. I'll sort through these and we can talk while you close your eyes." She indicated an enormous leather sofa against one of the walls of the room, a couple of metres from where we sat at the table. A couple of colourful cushions adorned one end of it, and it seemed very appealing. I nodded tiredly and half fell onto the soft leather. Julia disappeared briefly while I adjusted the cushions under my head. She returned with a fluffy green mohair blanket which she draped over me. I smiled my thanks.