‘What about, sir?’
‘To see if they keep business records dating back to 1916. Some companies do keep records, you know, so that the company history can be written up from time to time. And they might know who the mysterious Patrick was. Right, I’ll get Barbara to ring Hartleys to make an appointment. I fancy a drive down to Hull.’
‘Very good, sir,’ she said most formally.
‘And you’re coming with me.’
The Registrar of Births, Marriages and Deaths at Hull was a Mrs Julie Tyndall and she explained that it was impossible to make a search for Patrick’s birth at such short notice.
Such a search could not be completed in such a short time. Much more detail would be required, too; she suggested that Pemberton visit the Consolidated Index of Births, Marriages and Deaths at St Catherine’s House which was on Kingsway in Central London. It would mean a lengthy search by Pemberton or one of his staff. Once the relevant entry had been found, application could then be made for a copy of the birth certificate. She did say that the Consolidated Index was now on film and that a few copies had been made available to reference libraries. She added that the County Reference Library at Great Halverton had a copy — so Pemberton could inspect it there rather than make the trip to London. She stressed it would mean a long and diligent search. It would be even more difficult without a precise date or place of birth — checking to see if Mrs Sophie Harland had given birth in Hull between, say, 1916 and 1924 would undoubtedly require hours and hours of painstaking research. Mrs Tyndall also suggested that Pemberton search the local parish church registers, but he’d require details of date and place of birth if he was to avoid a long, boring search.
He thanked her and drove to Hartleys where his appointment was with a Mr Hurworth at 4.00pm.
Promptly at four, he and Lorraine were ushered into a plush first-floor office where a tall, smart man of around forty welcomed them. Slightly balding with dark hair, he wore dark, heavy-rimmed spectacles, expensive cuff links and a gold tie-pin in the shape of the letter H. He exuded an air of total confidence as he welcomed them.
‘Detective Superintendent Pemberton? I’m the managing director of Hartleys, Donald Hurworth is the name.’ And he extended his hand in greeting. Mark introduced Lorraine who also shook hands, and they were then settled into comfortable chairs and offered tea and biscuits by Hurworth’s secretary.
When the introductions and formalities were over, Hurworth said, ‘Well, I’m intrigued by this visit. Your secretary said it was in connection with a visit by the Vice-President of the United States? Mr Caleb Hodgson Hartley.’
Mark did not wish to tell this man the entire story, at least not at this stage, and so he said he was in charge of local security arrangements, including those for the Vice-President’s visit to Hull. Mr Hurworth was aware of the proposed visit. Pemberton added that he was also endeavouring to discover some details of the family history in readiness for the Vice-President’s arrival at Thirklewood Hall. He explained that he knew of the links between the Hartleys of Pike Hill Farm and those in Hull, then told of Vice-President Hartley’s past contact with the store, adding that he’d been sent a small booklet about its history.
He also said there was every reason to believe that Luke Caleb Hartley, who’d lived at Pike Hill Farm until 1916, was in fact the Vice-President’s grandfather.
‘Really? Well, I’ll be damned!’ beamed Hurworth, who blushed with pride. ‘The Vice-President did say he wanted to visit the store and of course we agreed, but I never really thought there was any link with our family.’
‘Did he suggest there might be?’
‘Well, it was one of his aides who contacted me; the name of Hartley was clearly of interest and all he said was that Vice-President Hartley was seeking his roots. We’ve had this sort of thing before with other Americans thinking they were connected. They weren’t, of course. But I said I would welcome Mr Hartley and help in whatever way I could. But you say he wrote to us for information?’
‘Yes, some time ago, apparently. Before he was a VIP! He got the standard PR response — a leaflet in the post. At that time, he’d have been regarded as just another American trying to sort out his family roots.’
‘I’m a Hartley too,’ said Hurworth with some pride. ‘Donald Caleb Hurworth. My mother was Maureen, the eldest granddaughter of Thomas Hartley who founded the business.’
‘You’ll be the eldest of her children?’
‘How do you know that?’ smiled Hurworth.
‘The name Caleb is given to the eldest son,’ Mark said. ‘Mr George Hartley, of Pike Hill Farm, told me that.’
‘That’s true, and my son is Stephen Caleb. And so the name continues.’
‘The Vice-President is very keen to learn about his relations, but we’ve a gap around 1916. I know that Thomas Hartley and his twin sister, Sophie, came to Hull in 1910 to establish this store. Thomas went away on business in 1916, and I’m anxious to discover where he went — just to fill a gap. I wondered if he’d gone home to Wolversdale for any reason.’
‘Wolversdale is the family home,’ said Hurworth.
‘Yes, I’ve already talked to Mr George Hartley at Pike Hill Farm. Now, the period around 11th September 1916 is the one which interests me. I know that some companies keep very detailed records for historical purposes and wondered if, by any fluke, you had a record of what Thomas was doing at that time.’
‘We do have the minutes of every meeting, Superintendent, all filed and dated. I can get the 1916 file within seconds — we have files for every year since our foundation,’ and he buzzed his secretary on the intercom. ‘Georgina, bring me the 1916 minutes, will you?’ While they were waiting, Hurworth outlined the development of Hartleys of Hull since its earliest days, giving due praise to both Thomas and Sophie; Thomas, it seemed, was the hard-headed businessman while his sister had a flair for fashion and design. She selected much of the early stock, especially the soft furnishings, and seemed able to forecast future fashions.
‘Do you ever visit Wolversdale?’ Mark asked Hurworth eventually.
‘We’ve been to funerals and weddings,’ he said. ‘We try to keep in touch, but we’ve no real contact with the Pike Hill Hartleys now. We’re too far removed from the present generation. For example, I had no idea we had a possible American branch of the family although I do know about the family hero.’
‘James?’ smiled Pemberton.
‘You know our history! He was shot in the First World War. A very nice man, by all accounts.’
‘I’m sure the Vice-President will be keen to visit his grave,’ Mark added, not wishing to relate the story of the murder at this point. ‘His links with Wolversdale have surprised a lot of people,’ and then Georgina entered with a file. Hurworth thanked her and opened it.
‘September 1916,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Here we are… Yes, Thomas was travelling then, meeting suppliers and customers. Minutes of a meeting dated Monday, 4th September 1916 — Mr Thomas will be absent from his office between Wednesday, 6th and Wednesday, 13th September 1916 because he is travelling to meet suppliers. His itinerary is given so that telegrams can be sent in case anything urgent arises. 7th, he’ll be in Scarborough, 8th in York, 9th in Thornborough where he will stay overnight. 10th, a Sunday, he would remain in Thornborough, 11th travel to Rainesbury, 12th a meeting in Rainesbury with the accountants, home on Wednesday, 13th. So, Superintendent, that was his itinerary!’
‘Brilliant! Does it say where he was staying? Hotels and so on, and the companies he was calling upon?’
‘Yes, he intended staying overnight in Thornborough and overnight in Rainesbury. It’s all here, minuted so we could contact him in an emergency. He’d do day journeys by train to Scarborough and York.’
‘I’m amazed!’ Pemberton complimented Hurworth. ‘Clearly, you had a very efficient system in those days.’
‘And it continues to this day!’ beamed Hurworth.
Pemberton wondered if the detective sergeant w
ho’d made the murder enquiry all those years ago had seen this itinerary; if so, he’d have been satisfied about Thomas’s movements because there was no reference to Rosenthorpe.
‘Thanks.’ He smiled at Hurworth. ‘I wish I could produce information as quickly as that. So, on his trip from Thornborough to Rainesbury, he could have called at Rosenthorpe, that’s the station for Wolversdale. It’s on the Thornborough to Rainesbury route.’
‘Is it? I’m not too sure of the railway’s geography in that area. But it doesn’t say anywhere here that he intended to call at the family home.’
If this man did not know the geography of that railway, thought Pemberton, then neither would that Hull detective. He’d been satisfied with the answers given at that time, answers which suggested that Thomas had never been near the scene of the murder. But in fact, he could have been right at the scene without any member of the family realising!
‘If Thomas travelled from Thornborough to Rainesbury, he would have passed the family farm,’ Pemberton said. ‘I wonder if the National Rail Museum has got the old timetables from pre-nationalisation days? The line was run by the North-Eastern Railway in 1916 — their timetables might exist. I wonder if, by any chance, he got off the train at Rosenthorpe for a family reunion, hoping to see James before he went to the trenches? He could have done that quite easily on that itinerary; he could have spent an hour or so at the farm, then resumed his journey on another train.’
‘Thomas might have done that, Mr Pemberton. He was always keen to maintain links with his family,’ said Hurworth. ‘That is part of the tradition of Thomas and Sophie — they were very strong believers in the sanctity of family life. In fact, Thomas wanted to be buried in the family corner at Wolversdale.’
‘I’ve seen his grave there. So can I take a photocopy of these minutes?’ Mark asked.
‘Sure, Georgina will see to that,’ and he buzzed her once again. She took away the file for photocopying while Mark explained that the Vice-President would be in Yorkshire and Humberside for only three days.
‘I’m sure he’ll be interested in seeing your business, especially because of the links with Patrick,’ said Pemberton, hoping for some reaction. He got it.
‘Isn’t life awful!’ said Hurworth. ‘Poor old Patrick died only last year. He was seventy-seven. He’d have been thrilled to bits to meet the Vice-President.’
‘So who was Patrick?’ asked Lorraine, who had been sitting quietly at Pemberton’s side during this interview.
‘He was Sophie’s son,’ replied Hurworth.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Sophie’s son?’ Lorraine echoed the words. ‘She must have had him quite late in life?’
‘Yes, she was thirty-two. He was the only child; Sophie died in 1952 and her husband, Aiden Harland, followed in 1959.’
‘And was Patrick involved in running the store?’ asked Pemberton.
‘Oh yes, very much so. He was a brilliant mathematician and had been a university lecturer for a time, that was before joining the company. He had a breakdown in his early days — he was a very intense young man, and quite brilliant, and things got too much when he was lecturing at Crumbleclive College. We were never quite sure what caused his breakdown, but he left lecturing and for a time went to live in a monastery. He felt it was the right place in which to recover. He did recover, but never returned to his old job. In his late thirties, when he left the monastery, Patrick came to us and apparently found happiness and great success in looking after our financial affairs. He had a flair for the business.’
‘And was he a Caleb too?’ asked Mark. ‘Er, no, he wasn’t, now that you ask. He was just Patrick, with no second name.’
‘With Sophie being such a family-orientated lady, I’d have thought she would have given her eldest son the Caleb name,’ commented Mark. ‘Anyway, you say Patrick died in 1993?’
‘Yes, from a heart attack. He was never very robust, but always kept himself busy. He worked with us until the last moment, he never thought of retiring. Hartleys was his whole life, Mr Pemberton. Other than his church, he had no outside interests.’
‘And has he any family?’
‘No, he never married. He was a bachelor throughout his life, never showing any inclination towards the opposite sex, but he wasn’t homosexual. He was strict Catholic, very prudish in many ways, a regular church attender, a member of his parish pastoral council and so on. We’re all Catholics, by the way, we kept the faith right through the Reformation and are proud that it continues in the family, even if some are a bit casual about it. Patrick was an example to us all. He went to the same church all his life, St Ignatius in Hull. He is missed by them and by us.’
‘Is that where he made his first Holy Communion?’ asked Lorraine.
‘Yes. He had a certificate for his first Holy Communion and a picture of the Last Supper as a memento of his Confirmation. They hung on the wall of his home. The church was very much a part of his daily life. I remember seeing the certificate and picture — they were from St Ignatius’ church.’
‘If the Last Supper was a memento, would it contain a date of his confirmation?’ asked Lorraine.
‘Yes, it would. I have a similar one, but I can’t remember what date was shown on Patrick’s,’ said Hurworth.
‘And its whereabouts now?’ asked Pemberton. ‘What happened to his stuff when he died?’
‘Sorry, I’ve no idea. When his home was cleared, most of the things were disposed of, except for those he had specifically willed to his relations or the church. I would think small stuff like those certificates would have been thrown out.’
‘I’m interested because Sophie wrote to the Vice-President’s Aunt Sarah to tell her that Patrick had made his first Holy Communion. Clearly it was an important stage of his life. The Vice-President has got that letter. It was posted here in Hull.’
‘Really? You mean it’s survived all these years? It’s amazing what turns up after all this time,’ smiled Hurworth. ‘That letter must be all of seventy years old!’
‘Do you know whether Patrick maintained any form of contact with the Canadian, later the American, branch? Luke wasn’t his godfather, was he? Or something like that?’
‘I’ve never heard him refer to the Canadian or American Hartleys at all,’ said Hurworth. ‘He would sometimes refer to Pike Hill Farm and once went there as a child, with Sophie, but I’ve never heard him talk of any overseas relations, not at all. Not once.’
‘It’s odd that Sophie would make an effort to keep in touch with Luke’s family about Patrick,’ Mark mused. ‘Anyway, if he made his first Holy Communion at St Ignatius’ church, he’d surely have been baptised there too?’
‘Almost certainly. Children made their first communion when they were seven or eight, so I guess it would have been at the same church. Sophie lived in the same house in Hull all her life. I never saw his baptismal certificate though — I never had cause to look for it — but I expect it would have been there. His parents always attended Mass at that church. Sophie and her husband kept their faith right to the end.’
‘So Patrick was the last link with Sophie?’
‘Yes, he was. With his death, there is no longer any link with Sophie, our joint founder. My family is the only branch which is linked to the original Hartleys, but we do have other directors now. And Thomas’s other descendants did not join the company. Those of my generation are spread around the world, one in Norway, one in Australia, and there’s another famous cousin, he’s an MP, a rising star in the government.’
‘Bartholomew Caleb Preston?’ smiled Mark.
‘You have done your homework,’ complimented Hurworth, and then Georgina returned with the photocopying.
‘This information is most useful,’ said Mark, accepting the file. ‘I don’t suppose you would keep the more detailed stuff, like accounts from the period, Thomas’s expenses for train fares and so on?’
‘No, we’ve never seen any reason to hang on to the minutiae of the business; a
ll that kind of stuff would have been destroyed years ago. We tend to have a clear-out of old stuff every ten years, but we do retain the minutes of all our meetings. They’re the stuff of history.’
‘Well, I appreciate this help. I might be in touch again before the Vice-President arrives,’ said Mark.
‘You’ll be most welcome,’ said Donald Hurworth. ‘Goodbye.’
‘So, where to next?’ asked Mark once they were outside.
‘St Ignatius’ church,’ smiled Lorraine. ‘I think we ought to inspect Patrick’s baptismal record.’
‘Do you? Why? We know who he is.’
‘Do we?’ She produced one of her enigmatic smiles. ‘I thought Sophie couldn’t produce children? Isn’t that what we learned from the early police enquiries?’
‘Yes, but women do have youngsters later in life — she was thirty-two when he was born.’
‘But he’s not a Caleb, sir; he’s Sophie’s eldest male child yet he’s not called Caleb. I’d have thought a strongly family-orientated woman like Sophie would have given her eldest son the Caleb family name. But she didn’t. I ask why.’
‘What are you suggesting, Lorraine?’ asked Mark.
‘That he was not her natural son,’ and she smiled again. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he was adopted.’
‘You could be right, and it would answer a few questions. Yes, you could well be right!’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Come along, then, to the church we shall go!’
The Catholic church of St Ignatius was a late Victorian building set in a spacious churchyard surrounded by elms and holly trees. Its somewhat ornate exterior of dark stone, with saints and angels adorning the upper walls, hinted at what the interior would be like. It was heavily gilded inside, more like a French or Belgian church than an English one, and candles were burning in a side altar. Mark and Lorraine padded quietly down the aisle, admiring the beautifully carved Stations of the Cross while seeking some sign of the priest. They found him outside, weeding a patch of garden on the south side of the building.
Family Ties (The Mark Pemberton Cases Book 1) Page 14