The Golden Thread

by Monica Carly

  ‘I know you do – I know you love me lots.’

  Hoping that was the end of it Barbie stood up indicating it was time for bed. Fran, however, hadn’t finished.

  ‘I just wondered who the mummy was, and there must have been a daddy, too, mustn’t there?’

  Seeing Barbie looking tearful Percy tried to take over.

  ‘It’s like Mummy says – it’s better not to think about it. Your home is here with us, and we’ll always look after you – that’s for sure.’

  Fran was perplexed. She had the feeling that something from her past was being concealed from her, and, young though she was, she realised that when she tried to explore her history her parents became distressed. She did not want to upset them – and yet she needed to know. There was a piece missing from the jigsaw puzzle and she had a strong urge to find it.

  ‘It’s like I always say, dear,’ said Barbie, who had recovered herself by now, ‘when one door closes, another opens. Well, there’s a door that’s closed behind you now, but our door opened just when you needed it and that’s all that matters. Now promise me you won’t worry about these things any more. Come here and give Mummy a nice big kiss!’

  Fran obediently did so.

  ‘Well, that’s that question laid to rest,’ said Percy optimistically, when Fran had left the room.

  Disappointed with her lack of progress Fran nevertheless realised that she wasn’t going to be able to pursue her enquiries – but the question wouldn’t go away. Her strong spirit and enquiring mind didn’t much like the idea of doors being closed to her. She made a mental note that one day, when the time was right, she was going to do everything she could to open it and find out just what lay behind.

  Chapter 20

  ‘Mum! Dad! I need some help with my homework!’

  Barbie and Percy were surprised to hear this request from Fran, now nine years old, as she normally got straight down to her projects without requiring any assistance from them. This was just as well since they freely admitted she had already outstripped their academic abilities in most areas. Barbie had undoubted capabilities when it came to post office matters and Percy, for his part, was quick at mental arithmetic, rarely making a mistake when giving change to customers. But as they had both left school at the earliest opportunity and knew their particular areas of expertise were limited, it was a relief to find that their little girl rarely referred any school problems to them.

  On this occasion, however, the class had been told that they would need to co-opt help from their parents, who would have the information required. Fran produced a large sheet of paper on which, at the bottom, was written her own name, in a box.

  ‘We have to build a family tree. Mrs Seymour showed us how, only she said we would need to sit down with our parents, who would probably have to find certificates, and photos to help fill it in.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Barbie. ‘That’s quite a task. Not sure I remember too clearly who my ancestors were.’

  ‘How far is it supposed to go back?’ asked Percy. ‘I haven’t much knowledge, either.’

  ‘Mrs Seymour said it didn’t matter. She said some parents might only know one or two generations, while others might be able to go back several. She said she just wanted us to learn how to build it, and never mind if it wasn’t very big. She said she didn’t want a whole lot of angry parents at the school door on Monday morning because they had spent every minute of the weekend trying to find out the names of all their aunts and uncles!’

  ‘I tell you what,’ said Percy, ‘we’ll sit down with you on Saturday evening, after the shop’s shut, and see what photos and papers we can find. Then on Sunday we’ll devote the whole day to it. How would that be?’

  ‘I don’t know that I’m going to be much help,’ worried Barbie. ‘I’ve gone quite blank trying to think of people.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Fran. ‘It doesn’t matter if we don’t have too many people on it. As long as I can build it up a bit, so I can show Mrs Seymour I know how to do it. Thanks, Mum and Dad.’

  When Saturday evening came they spread out on the dining table all the certificates and photo albums they could lay their hands on, although Percy carefully omitted Fran’s short birth certificate which he had filed away. Then they got side-tracked as they opened the old albums and started laughing at some of the pictures.

  ‘Look at my mother sitting in a deckchair on the beach!’ cried Barbie. ‘Her dress is down to her ankles and she’s got a hat on!’

  ‘Who’s that strange looking man with the wing collar, smoking a pipe?’ Percy got quite excited looking back at the memorabilia they had produced. ‘I tell you what, we made a mistake not writing down the names of people at the time – you think you’ll always remember them, but you don’t.’

  ‘Well, let’s make a start.’ Fran was eager to get on with it. ‘First I’ll draw a vertical line above my name, and then a horizontal line, with two small vertical ones above that, and I’ll put you two down.’

  ‘Only you must put my maiden name down,’ said Barbie. ‘You know what that was, don’t you Fran, dear?’

  ‘Yes, it was Murdoch. And I know Grandpa is Sam Murdoch, and I know Auntie June is your sister, and Grandpa’s other daughter.’

  ‘That’s right. And we can put in Grandma’s name, which was Doris. See, we’re gradually getting it done. Shame we never see Grandpa now – he’s got so ill it isn’t possible.’ Barbie skirted round the fact that poor Grandpa had Alzheimer’s Disease to such an advanced degree that he didn’t know anyone, and it would have been too distressing to take Fran to see him.

  ‘You don’t have any brothers or sisters, do you Daddy? You’re like me, an only child, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, but we can fill in the names of my parents. Then we’ll see if we can do anything on the line above.’

  Slowly they began to fill it in. They got to their own grandparents, and after much discussion they thought they had correctly remembered how many offspring each had produced, and the names, although they weren’t too sure.

  ‘I suppose it doesn’t really matter too much,’ said Percy. ‘After all Mrs Seymour won’t know if we’ve got it right or not.’

  The finished chart looked quite impressive in the end, although it was clear that neither family had been large, with Percy not having any siblings, and Barbie having just the one sister. However, by the time they had gone back two generations it seemed the productivity levels were higher.

  ‘There,’ said Barbie. ‘That’s very nice, dear. You can go back to school on Monday feeling we’ve done a good job.’

  Fran was silent. Percy sensed that she was wrestling with something and feared he probably knew what it was. ‘What is it, Fran dear?’ he asked.

  ‘This isn’t right, is it?’

  ‘What do you mean dear?’ asked Barbie, innocently. ‘What’s not right?’

  ‘Well,’ said Fran, ‘this isn’t my family tree. It’s yours, and Daddy’s, but it isn’t mine. Those aren’t my ancestors.’

  Percy stepped in quickly. ‘Well yes, they are. As you know, you are ours by adoption. It was legally done, so everything is legally the same for you as for us. This is your family just the same.’

  ‘But they aren’t …’ Fran struggled to find the word, ‘they aren’t the people I descended from. They aren’t my blood relations.’

  ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’ Barbie was beginning to get agitated. ‘They’re all your ancestors, like Daddy says.’

  ‘It makes a difference to me,’ said Fran obstinately. ‘I’m going to draw my own family tree.’

  She took another sheet of paper – a smaller one this time – and wrote her name in a box at the bottom. Then she drew a vertical line and put a horizontal line across with two small vertical ones on top. On these she put two large question marks.

  ‘There,’ she said, ‘I’ve done it. That’s my family tree.’

  Barbie began to
cry. ‘Why do you have to think like this, Fran? Haven’t we been good parents to you? Haven’t we loved you from the day you came to us? Why can’t you just accept us and forget that there was anyone else?’

  ‘Because I can’t forget! I can’t! And you shouldn’t ask me to.’

  With that Fran grabbed the two family trees from the table and went up to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Percy went upstairs to speak to her. She had obviously been crying. He begged her to come back downstairs and make her peace with Barbie, who was sobbing her heart out. Fran hated upsetting her mother, but there was something inside her that could not let the matter rest.

  ‘Why can’t Mummy understand, Daddy? I love her very, very much, but I can’t help it, I can’t just put out of my mind what happened to me. I know that there were two people, who I don’t know anything about, who made me. And it’s so cross-making that I don’t know who they are, and I’m not allowed to try and find out. But even if I think about it sometimes it doesn’t change anything with you and Mummy – I love you as my Mummy and Daddy – why can’t Mummy understand that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Fran, but the fact is that she sees it as a kind of disloyalty, and whatever you or I say we can’t seem to change that. I’m going to ask you to do something. It’s something grownups sometimes do for the sake of the people they love. Could you pretend a little? Could you tell Mummy you really have put all those past events that you don’t know about out of your head? It would make her so happy.’

  ‘You mean lie?’

  ‘It’s called a white lie. It’s only done because you don’t want to hurt someone who’s important to you. So it’s not really lying. You’re doing it because you want to be kind.’

  Fran nodded. ‘I will, as long as you understand how I feel. I need to be honest with someone.’

  Percy nodded.

  ‘I do understand. I know it must be difficult for you, but you’d make Mummy so happy, that’s for sure.’

  Fran smiled at him gratefully, returned to the living room and kissed her mother. She said dutifully that she was sorry she had caused her unhappiness and promised she would not think about it any more from now on. Percy, standing behind her, saw she had crossed her fingers behind her back.

  The next day she came back from school saying they had had lots of fun in class comparing their family trees. One or two, apparently, had gone back several generations, and all the children thought their parents had enjoyed the trip down memory lane.

  Later, when Barbie took some clean clothes up to Fran’s bedroom to put them away, she noticed a piece of paper tightly screwed into a ball, lying in the waste paper bin. Out of curiosity she picked it up and opened it. It was Fran’s family tree – the second one, with the two question marks.

  Chapter 21

  At eighteen years of age Fran left school, her exams now all behind her. To celebrate the start of this new phase in their lives Fran and her two best friends, Jill and Bunty, decided to spend a few days exploring attractive coastal villages and bays in south east Cornwall. Jill’s parents had kindly loaned their car for the occasion, so that they could have a little celebration. Jill was the only licensed driver amongst them, but with the confidence of youth she happily undertook to do all the driving. Little did Fran know that one particular day of that holiday would be etched indelibly on her mind.

  It was a beautiful summer day when the friends set out in a little Morris Minor on their long journey to the West Country. The three of them had been firm friends at school, the bond they had formed during those formative years being a strong one. They might all have been on the point of entering the adult world, but the girlish giggling and peals of laughter that enlivened their journey rather seemed to belie the fact.

  Jill was the creative one, instantly making up stories about everyone they passed on their way.

  ‘You see that man and woman parked at the side of the road? There must be a reason why they aren’t getting on with their journey. I think they’re having a heart to heart. They’ve probably run away together and now they’re not so sure about it, or one of them isn’t. I bet they’ve left their poor spouses at home wondering where on earth they are. One way or another there’s trouble ahead!’

  ‘Really, Jill! Whatever will you think of next? I suppose you’ve got an explanation for those two men trying to flag down a lift?

  ‘Certainly. They’ve committed a bank robbery in the town we just passed through, but their getaway car’s broken down and now they’re desperate to leave the scene of their crime.’

  ‘Stop it, Jill! You’ll have us believing every word you say!’

  Fran was the logical one who had worked out their itinerary, and knew exactly how much the few days were likely to cost them. Bunty was happy to go along with the other two – she lacked ideas of her own but was always easy company.

  It took many hours to reach Fowey, but Fran had allowed for several stops on the way, and the girls were still in high spirits when they finally pulled into the bustling resort and found the bed and breakfast place Fran had booked. After a meal provided by their landlady and hungrily devoured by the weary travellers, all the girls were glad to call it a day and wait for the next day to dawn.

  Early the next morning they made their plans. They hoped to explore much of the area on foot, walking along coastal paths and following trails to see some of the glorious sights this part of the country afforded. One attraction was the Llanteglos Parish Church where the author Daphne Du Maurier had married the dashing Grenadier, Major Frederick Browning, on 19 July 1932.

  ‘Oh, how romantic!’ sighed Jill. ‘I just love her books!’

  ‘I’d like to go coastal walking, so we catch sight of some of the marvellous bays and coves round here,’ said Fran. ‘Shall we get the ferry across to Polruan, and then walk over the headland past Washing Rocks and Blackbottle Rock, where we’ll be able to see Lantic Bay? Then we can go inland to the church. How does that sound?’

  They all agreed it sounded wonderful, and with rucksacks full of supplies, plus, at Fran’s suggestion, a bathing costume and small towel each, just in case they wanted to take a dip, they set off. There was nothing that could possibly dampen their spirits, the weather being everything they could have wished for – beautiful, warm July sunshine beamed down on them. It seemed they had certainly struck lucky where the weather was concerned.

  They were young and full of spirit, so it mattered little that the going was fairly tough. Finally they drew up at the point where they could look down on Lantic Bay. For once they fell silent.

  ‘It’s just amazing!’ Bunty broke the silence.

  ‘Let’s go down to the sea!’

  Fran was excited at the thought of standing on that deserted beach, and perhaps dipping her toes into the swirling surf.

  ‘If we go down, we’ll have to climb up again,’ remarked Jill.

  ‘I know, but it’ll be worth it. Look, there’s no one in sight, and we can walk on the pebbles, and there’s a lovely sandy spot. Oh, do say you’ll come!’

  With the impulsiveness of youth they immediately set off, picking their way down the cliff path that led to the beach.

  ‘I thought you said it was deserted! Look, there are two people over by the rocks,’ Jill pointed out.

  ‘And no doubt you’re going to tell us exactly who they are, and what they’re doing there,’ remarked Bunty.

  ‘The young lad is rather handsome, with that dark hair, and fine build. He’s with an older woman – and I don’t honestly think she can be cradle-snatching to quite that extent. Reluctantly, even I have to admit he’s too young for that, so she must be his mother.’

  ‘So what’s a fine young man like that doing going on holiday with his mum?’

  ‘He’d normally be with his pals, but his mother’s just been through a tough time – either she’s been very ill, or her husband is horribly cruel to her. Yes, that’s probably it – I expect he beats her,
and she’s had to get away. So the son, who is very kind, and extremely attached to his mother, decided to take her away for a few days so she can forget it all and absorb some of nature’s soothing balm from this secluded place.’

  ‘I’m so hot!’ Fran had got tired of the make-believe. ‘Who’s for a dip?’

  She started to peel off her clothes and, hiding behind her towel, managed to wriggle into her swimming costume.

  ‘It looks awfully rough.’ Jill’s voice echoed the doubt Bunty was feeling. ‘Do you think we should?’

  ‘Come on!’ cried Fran. ‘It’ll be wonderful, you’ll see!’

  The others followed her example, and soon, shrieking girlishly, they all ran to the water’s edge. Jill and Bunty dipped their toes in, but when a large wave broke around them they ran back screaming.

  ‘It’s so cold! I’m not going in – it’s too rough and cold!’ said Bunty.

  ‘Nor am I, ‘agreed Jill.

  But Fran didn’t hear them. She was fighting her way through the waves as they crashed around her, until she got to quieter waters where she could swim. Her strong, athletic body could be seen plying a path towards the mouth of the bay.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ muttered Jill. ‘She’s going a long way out.’

  ‘We’d better shout at her to come back.’ Bunty was equally worried.

  So they shouted at the top of their voices, but Fran did not hear. Exhilarating in the sensations of the water surrounding her body and her movements through it she was lost to all else. At last, remembering she had persuaded her companions to come in for a swim, she turned to see where they were.

  What she saw shocked her. She was much further out than she had intended. She saw her friends at the water’s edge, jumping up and down and gesticulating. Then she saw that the other two people on the beach had also come down to watch.

  She lifted her arm and waved, to show she was aware it was time she came back, and struck out for the shore. She was a strong swimmer, but despite her decisive movements she knew she wasn’t gaining much ground. Once more she put her face down into the water and this time made a superhuman effort. Rhythmically she lifted each arm in turn to take another stroke, kicking her legs with all her strength and turning her head to gasp for breath. Then she looked up – and saw that the beach was still no nearer. In fact it seemed even further away.