The Roots of the Tree

by Amanda Roberts

  ‘Think, Annie,’ she urged herself.

  The kitchen was modern and fitted, so Annie quickly dismissed the possibility of there being any hiding place in there. In the lounge, apart from the armchairs and sofa, there was the glass-fronted display cabinet that was home to the china collection, a bookcase tightly packed with the war paperbacks that Frank had favoured – all of Elsie’s books had already been given to a charity shop – and a TV cabinet containing the TV and video recorder. None of these looked likely to be harbouring a hiding place so Annie moved into the bedroom. Scanning the familiar room as if she was seeing it for the first time, Annie’s gaze went from the double bed, stripped bare now, to the wardrobe, which she and Suzie had been emptying when she found the box containing the marriage certificate, and the only other furniture in the room, a dressing table and stool.

  Annie sat down on the stool and pulled out the drawers of the dressing table. They were all small, holding some of her mother’s jewellery which Frank had wanted to keep, including her wristwatch, some synthetic pearl earrings with matching necklace and her engagement and wedding rings.

  ‘She couldn’t have hidden anything in these drawers,’ Annie muttered to herself. ‘Not big enough and too accessible.’

  The top of the dressing table was cluttered with photographs in shiny frames, several well-thumbed paperback novels, a ceramic dish into which Frank used to empty his loose change when he hung his trousers up at night, and Elsie’s old musical jewellery box. At least, the jewellery box used to be musical. Annie remembered it being played as a very young girl. It had a dancing lady on the top, a china figure dressed as a ballerina, who performed a few jerky movements and a pirouette to a snippet of music from The Nutcracker. When the dance finished, the lid of the jewellery box opened. Annie had been fascinated by it as a child and had loved the dancing lady, but it had been broken for years. She remembered her mother, Elsie, saying she had lost the key and could no longer wind it up. It didn’t matter, she said, as there were no items of value in it. She didn’t want to part with the box, as it had sentimental value – her father had given it to her one Christmas.

  ‘Of course,’ Annie exclaimed aloud. ‘It’s the perfect hiding place. Right under everyone’s noses all these years, but at the same time invisible and inaccessible.’

  She picked up the box feeling certain the letters had to be inside. It was heavy, made in a time when solid wood was the material of choice rather than plastic, and it was crafted by hand, not mass-produced in a cheap factory. She turned it around in her hands and gently shook it. Nothing. If she was correct and the jewellery box was hiding the missing letters, Annie felt it was safe to assume that her mother hadn’t really lost the key at all, just hidden it somewhere. But where?

  She scanned the room again. The wardrobe was almost empty thanks to the efforts of Suzie and herself yesterday. Just a few shirts and pairs of trousers hung on the rail and two pairs of shoes sat neatly on the shoe rack. Annie knelt down and shone a small torch underneath the shoes – nothing. The shelf above the clothes rail where she had found the shoebox yesterday was also now empty.

  Annie clicked her tongue in frustration. The key for this box would be so small, what were the chances of her ever finding it? And that was assuming it was even still in the house anyway. It was just as likely to have been sent to a charity shop with Elsie’s clothes, shoes and books years ago. But she was so convinced the letters would be in the box that she knew she had to get into it somehow. A triviality like a missing key wasn’t going to stop her.

  Tucking the jewellery box under her arm, Annie let herself out of the annex and back into her own home. In the kitchen she rummaged in a drawer until she found a penknife. Selecting the thinnest attachment she could – a metal nail file - she inserted it into the small space where the lid met the side of the box. She could see the piece of metal that automatically clicked into place when the lid was closed. It was designed to hold the box firmly together until the key was used to wind up the mechanism, making the ballerina dance before releasing the catch to open the box. She pressed the nail file firmly against the metal from left to right and right to left, but it wouldn’t move. It wasn’t until she tried pushing the metal catch that the file slipped smoothly forwards and, with a slight click, the box lid sprang open.

  Annie stared in surprise as, instead of an empty box, she saw a bundle of envelopes tied together with a piece of ribbon. With a trembling hand, she picked up the envelopes. The paper was yellowed and brittle with age, but the writing was still clear and a quick examination revealed the envelopes were all addressed to Miss Elsie Williams. Annie picked them up and returned to her favourite armchair. She did not notice that the telephone was ringing again as she settled down and began to read.

  5

  Bending the Truth

  Suzie finished work at 3.00 p.m. and hurried to school to collect Daniel at 3.15 p.m.

  ‘How’s my gorgeous boy?’ she asked, kneeling down to put her arms around him as he ran across the playground towards her. ‘Have you had a good day?’

  ‘School stupid! Teacher stupid!’ was Daniel’s sulky reply. ‘Not my fault Moo Moo got stuck on the roof.’

  ‘And what is Moo Moo?’ asked Suzie, taking Daniel’s hand and walking off towards the car.

  ‘Molly’s silly little cow toy. She’s such a cry baby,’ said Daniel.

  ‘And how did Moo Moo get stuck on the roof?’ asked Suzie, wondering as she did if she really wanted to know the answer.

  ‘Well, what happened was,’ replied a now animated Daniel, ‘Molly, was annoying us – me and Charlie were playing tag and she kept getting in the way – so Charlie grabbed Moo Moo and threw it at me and she was trying to get it back, jumping up in front of me and stuff and so I threw it high back to Charlie, but it landed on the roof instead and Molly burst into tears and ran to Mr Foster and told him I done it deliberately.’

  ‘I did it deliberately,’ Suzie automatically corrected.

  ‘I did it deliberately,’ Daniel repeated, scuffing the toes of his shoes along the pavement as he walked. ‘But I didn’t. It was an accident. And I had to stay in at break time the rest of the day. Not fair.’

  Suzie sighed, realising she had several years of playtime squabbles ahead of her. ‘Molly was obviously upset to lose Moo Moo,’ she ventured. ‘Think how upset you would be if it was Doggie who got stuck on the roof.’

  ‘But I didn’t mean to do it,’ protested Daniel.

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t, darling,’ replied Suzie. ‘I bet it will all be forgotten about tomorrow and if the caretaker gets the ladders out he will be able to get Moo Moo down from the roof and everyone will be happy again.’

  ‘Not fair,’ insisted Daniel. ‘Teachers shouldn’t get it wrong.’

  ‘If only it were that easy,’ Suzie muttered under her breath. ‘Anyway, when we get home, as a special treat, I’m going to make you sausage and chips for tea and then you can watch some Bob the Builder and be quiet for Mummy whilst I make a couple of telephone calls. Deal?’

  ‘Wicked! Yeah, deal,’ agreed a suddenly more cheerful Daniel.

  At home, with Daniel fed and settled in front of the TV as promised, Suzie consulted the local telephone directory and for the second time in just a few weeks, found the number for the registrar of births, marriages and deaths. She briefly pondered how to phrase her question. She could hardly start with ‘How is it possible to have a birth certificate which deliberately lists the wrong person as the father?’ could she? And it was deliberate. Everything they had learned so far confirmed that Frank Barratt’s name had to have been added to the certificate at some point, probably several years after Annie’s birth had originally been registered.

  One telephone call to the local registrar of births, marriages and deaths secured her the number for the General Register Office, the government department responsible nationally for keeping records, issuing replacement certificates and providing figures for use in national statistics.

/>   ‘General Register Office, can I help you?’ the telephone was answered on the first ring by a cheerful female voice, giving the impression that its owner had been waiting for just such a diversion to her otherwise mundane routine.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Suzie. ‘I wonder if you can. I’ve got a query relating to the procedure of registering a birth and then changing some details and I don’t really know who to ask about it.’

  ‘I’ll put you through to someone who deals with our procedures. One moment please.’

  Suzie held the line and moments later was connected to a voice that introduced itself as Mr Taylor and once again offered to help.

  ‘Hello, Mr Taylor,’ said Suzie. ‘I’m interested in finding out how someone would change or add details to a birth certificate at some point after the birth has originally been registered and presumably the birth certificate generated.’

  ‘Hmm! May I ask why you’re interested? Is this something you think you may wish to do?’ asked Mr Taylor.

  ‘No,’ Suzie said. ‘It’s connected with something we have just discovered concerning a member of my family. It seems that the person who is listed on her birth certificate as her father actually isn’t.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mr Taylor. ‘You can apply to check the original record of the registration of the birth. But, essentially, birth records can be added to or amended in order to correct details or in certain circumstances to change a record. Any such changes are usually noted on the certificate as an amendment. However, it is not possible to add a father’s name if the parents are not married unless he is present and agrees to the request; you can’t even list a father on a birth certificate today if he’s not married to the mother unless he is present. And of course, there are ways of checking paternity claims today if there is any dispute.’

  ‘That would not apply in this case,’ replied Suzie, ‘as it’s likely the record would have been changed during the war, the mother and the father who wasn’t actually the father were married by then and the real father was never named.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Mr Taylor, ‘it’s highly unlikely that anyone would have questioned it. If a man wants to claim paternity of a child and he is married to the mother, without the benefit of modern science techniques, such as DNA testing to double check the validity of the claim, and during wartime, his claim would most likely have simply been accepted without question. He would have been able to have his name added to the birth certificate as the father, especially if no details of the real father were provided at the time of the registration of the birth, so those fields on the certificate would have been left blank.’

  ‘As easy as that then,’ said Suzie, partly to herself. ‘And then I’m guessing if they claimed to have lost the certificate at some later point and applied for a replacement they would receive one with the handwriting and the inks all matching rather than it being obvious the records had been written at different times?’

  ‘In theory, yes,’ confirmed Mr Taylor.

  ‘Thank you for your time and the information,’ said Suzie and hung up.

  Well, that was one mystery solved, she mused thoughtfully. It might be worth tracing the original registration of the birth, but Suzie was fairly sure they would find that it simply listed Elsie Williams as the mother, the date of birth and Annie’s Christian names with no detail provided about the father.

  Later that evening, after putting Daniel to bed, she explained what she had found out to David.

  ‘It makes sense,’ he said. ‘Why would anybody argue with them? Elsie and Frank both claim Frank is her real father but maybe he was away at the time of the birth because of the war. They get married and he wants to be formally recognised as her father. There is no one to contradict them and with so many orphans and children with only a mother towards the end of the war there would have been no reason for the authorities to suspect the situation was anything other than it appeared – a happy ending for once, which in those days must have been very welcome.’

  ‘It would appear so,’ agreed Suzie. ‘I never would have thought it could be so easy to consolidate a lie, to present it as a fact and have it accepted as a fact.’

  They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Suzie answered.

  ‘Suzie, thank goodness you’re home.’

  ‘Hi, Aunt Emily,’ she said, frowning as she detected the urgency in her aunt’s voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Have you seen your mum today?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been calling all afternoon but she’s not answering and I know she wasn’t going into work today. I just wanted to make sure she was okay after the shock of yesterday.’

  ‘I saw her this morning,’ replied Suzie, ‘on my way to work. I made her some tea. She was fine when I left – understandably emotional and starting to feel angry, but I haven’t spoken to her since. I was just about to call her, in fact, as I’ve spoken to the General Register Office and it sounds as though amending her birth certificate would have been quite simple. I’ll call her now and let you know how she is.’

  Suzie disconnected and immediately redialled her mother’s number. She drummed her fingernails on the kitchen table as the phone rang and rang but nobody answered. Finally, she hung up.

  ‘Do you want me to go over there and check on her?’ asked David.

  ‘No, I’ll go,’ said Suzie. ‘I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just taken some sleeping pills or something; she looked as though she hadn’t slept much this morning. She may even have turned the volume down on the phone so she wouldn’t be disturbed if it rang and then forgotten to turn it back up again. I won’t be long.’ Nevertheless, Suzie admitted to herself that she was concerned as she grabbed a lightweight coat from the cloakroom and pulled on some ankle boots. ‘Will you call Aunt Emily and tell her I’m going over to check on Mum as I can’t get an answer either?’ she asked then kissed David and dashed out of the door.

  Less than twenty minutes later, Suzie pulled onto Annie’s gravel drive. The sun, which had barely emerged from a blanket of cloud all day, was setting and a gloomy dusk was taking over. The house appeared to be in darkness. Suzie rang the bell while rummaging in her bag for her key. Pushing the door open, she called, ‘Hi, Mum, it’s only me,’ and flicked on the hall light. Silence. A quick glance in the kitchen revealed it was empty, save for her grandmother’s old jewellery box on the kitchen table. The only sound was the familiar ticking of the clock. Suzie moved on to the lounge, where she found Annie sprawled in the same armchair she had left her in that morning. By her side was the full mug of cold tea that Suzie had made for her earlier, a half-empty bottle of whisky and an empty glass. In her lap was a pile of letters, one hand still clutching the old paper on the top of the pile and the other gripping a well-worn and familiar teddy bear.

  ‘Mum,’ said Suzie, shaking her gently.

  Annie groaned slightly and feebly pushed Suzie’s hand away. Suzie gently prised her other hand from the pile of letters and picked them up. She replaced the lid on the whisky bottle before carrying the full mug of tea and empty whisky glass into the kitchen. She then went upstairs to Annie’s bedroom, dragged the duvet down to the lounge and draped it over the prone form of her mother. Picking up the telephone, she dialled her own number.

  ‘Hi, David, it’s me,’ she said.

  ‘Have you found her?’ asked David.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Suzie. ‘It’s okay; she’s drowned her sorrows in half a bottle of whisky. She’ll have a thick head in the morning, but nothing worse than that.’

  David chuckled. He had himself shared a bottle of whisky with Annie in the past and regretted it the next morning.

  ‘She’s found what look to be the letters that Elsie was receiving, though, and I’d say she’s read them, which is probably what prompted her to start on the whisky bottle.’

  ‘Is that good news or bad?’ David wondered. It was one thing to uncover secrets that had been buried for years and another entirely to deal with the emotions that may be unleashed
as a consequence. He couldn’t help but worry about what that would mean for Annie, how Suzie would cope and ultimately what effect it might have on Daniel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Suzie. ‘But I think I should stay the night here. Can you let Aunt Emily know and drop Daniel at school in the morning?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Jack called. I told him you were with your mum and you would call him tomorrow. Good night, darling.’

  Suzie turned on several lamps that were scattered around Annie’s lounge, drew the curtains and for comfort rather than because she needed the heat, lit a fire in the cast-iron grate. Then she settled down on the sofa and reached for the bundle of letters. Suppressing a feeling that what she was about to do was somehow wrong, reading very private letters that were not meant for her eyes and that people within her immediate family had gone to great lengths to hide for many years, she took the top letter from the pile and began to read.

  6

  Letters from the War

  January 1940, England

  My dearest Elsie,

  It’s only three days since I left you but already it feels like a lifetime. We’ve joined up with the other troops from the regiment. I don’t think I can tell you exactly where, but we’re not very far away – yet. I have lodgings in a private house with another new recruit, Joe Benson. He’s quite a joker – always ready with the one-liners. You’d like him. He comes from a big family over on the coast. Sid Bishop is here, too – you remember we met him when I signed up. He’s a local lad, from just the other side of Barminster. Sid’s clever. Reckon he could’ve gone to college but he says his folks couldn’t afford it and when he saw that flyer for new recruits he knew he had to volunteer – just like me, really. He’s in a house just up the road with another new boy, George Smith. He’s a bit quiet, keeps himself to himself. I’m not sure he really wanted to join up but felt he had to.