The Roots of the Tree

by Amanda Roberts

  Annie remained motionless as Emily reached across the table and took the articles. She quickly read them before handing them over to Annie, whose gaze did not waver from the clock. ‘Seems a bit extreme, blaming them for the accident,’ Emily commented.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Suzie. ‘When in grief, people lash out at the nearest target. They need to apportion blame – whether fairly or not. And the Johnsons themselves admitted they had not seen the accident, so they were not watching the girls. Anyway, I have to go. Can’t be late for work again, especially when Tom is being so understanding.’

  She hugged Annie then moved towards the door and Emily followed her. Once in the hallway, out of sight of the kitchen, Suzie raised a questioning eyebrow and Emily shrugged.

  ‘She’s hardly said a word all morning,’ Emily whispered. ‘But your dad called just before you arrived. He’s taking her out for lunch. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. It will do her good to get out of the house for a few hours and maybe he can persuade her to eat something.’

  ‘I’ll call you later, see how she is,’ said Suzie, closing the door behind her.

  Arriving at work, Suzie was greeted by Tom enthusiastically beckoning to her from within his office. ‘Come in and close the door,’ he said as she approached. ‘I found some more articles.’ He handed over three photocopied sheets on which he had written the issue dates they came from. The first was from the 12th of November 1931:

  Harassment claim by family in Pickney Lock drowning case

  The Johnson family, of Upper Chaddington, claim that ever since the tragic accident at Pickney Lock, when nine-year-old Lily Williams drowned whilst enjoying a day out to celebrate their daughter, Celia’s, tenth birthday, they have suffered constant harassment from Lily’s father, Terry Williams.

  The Johnsons allege that Mr Williams has been sending them ‘hate mail’, has painted ‘insulting lies’ in the form of graffiti on their garden fence and called after them in the street.

  Mr Williams stated that he still holds the Johnson family responsible for his daughter’s death and will not rest until justice has been done. He wants their part in her death to be officially recognised and wants them to suffer as he and his family have.

  The Johnson family deny that they were in any way negligent or responsible for Lily’s death.

  The next came from the 1st of February 1932:

  Court injunction granted against drowned girl’s father

  Yesterday, Judge McIntyre at Barminster Court granted an injunction against Terry Williams, of Upper Chaddington, requiring him to stay away from the Johnson family, also of Upper Chaddington.

  The Johnsons claimed that Mr Williams had been harassing them ever since the tragic death of his daughter, Lily, who was on a day out with them. They say his actions, which include sending threatening and accusing letters in the post, spraying offensive accusations on their property, calling them names in the street and displaying threatening behaviour, are causing the whole family considerable distress. The Johnson children, Edward, Celia, Archie and William, are said to be particularly upset by the activities and accusations of Mr Williams and fear for their own safety.

  Judge McIntyre ordered Mr Williams to cease all such activity and decreed that he should stay away from the Johnson’s house, the school attended by the children and Mr Johnson’s place of work. Failure to comply with this injunction would result in the prosecution of Mr Williams.

  The final article was from the 4th of March 1932.

  ‘We are victims,’ claim the Johnsons as they quit Upper Chaddington

  In spite of last month’s court injunction, granted by Judge McIntyre at Barminster court, the Johnson family of Upper Chaddington say they can no longer reside in the village.

  Several generations of Johnsons have lived in Upper Chaddington, but Mr and Mrs Johnson say that further to the actions and accusations made by Terry Williams, their lives have been made a misery. They believe they are being ostracised by other members of the community who have been influenced by the comments of Mr Williams. Consequently, they claim they have no choice but to leave the village.

  ‘We are innocent victims,’ Mr Johnson told the Barminster Chronicle. ‘We have done nothing wrong, but we are being forced from our home. The court last month decided in our favour.We have never been formally charged with any responsibility for this terrible accident, but nevertheless, we are being made to pay for it.’

  ‘He couldn’t let go,’ said Suzie. ‘Thanks, Tom. I hope you didn’t stay too late last night to find these.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Tom. ‘I told you I would enjoy it and I did.’

  Jack took Annie to a small bistro that had recently opened in a former public house located between Upper and Lower Chaddington. It was quiet. Two other tables were occupied, both in the window. Jack asked for a table in a cosy corner at the rear of the restaurant, to the visible annoyance of the waitress who clearly wanted to keep all her diners on tables close to each other. She handed them a menu each and left them to choose their meals while she fetched their drinks. Annie looked around her listlessly and fiddled with the menu.

  ‘I’ve heard the dressed crab is really good,’ said Jack.

  ‘You know, I’m really not that hungry,’ said Annie.

  Jack studied her across the table. He thought she looked tired and lacking the vibrancy he usually associated with his former wife. Her normally immaculate hair was overdue for a wash and looked dull and flat. Her outfit had not been chosen with care – the vivid blue shirt was the wrong shade to contrast comfortably with the equally vivid green pashmina. She had forgotten to put on any jewellery and there was a stain on her pale denim jeans. He thought he had never seen her look so dishevelled or so vulnerable, like a young girl as yet unsure of her direction in life. Jack could feel himself getting angry again. Remembering Suzie’s warning that ranting wasn’t going to help Annie, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths and stay calm.

  ‘You need to eat and I have promised Emily that you are going to,’ he said.

  ‘I am not a child and I really don’t need you all treating me as though I am,’ Annie retorted, taking a gulp of her gin and tonic.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jack. ‘We just don’t like to see you suffering like this.’

  For a while the two of them studied the menu in silence. The waitress hovered and Jack waved her away.

  ‘You know, you are a very strong lady,’ Jack said. ‘God knows, I could never win an argument with you, even when you were so clearly wrong you somehow managed to make it sound as though you were right. You can deal with this if you put all of your mind to it.’

  Annie was silent, so Jack tried another angle.

  ‘What they did, all those years ago, it was not about you and was certainly not meant to hurt you. Surely everything you’ve found out so far about Lily and the feud between the families shows that they were all victims in their own way. Things could have been very different, but then the war came along and Elsie and Ted never had the opportunity to put things right, to insist that the past was banished to where it belongs, in the past. The war influenced so many lives in ways that we can’t even begin to understand today. When you are living for the moment, because simply getting through each day alive is an achievement in itself and planning for the future is more fiction than reality, life takes a different perspective and you have to choose what seems to be the best path based on what you do know.’

  ‘I can almost forgive Mum for what she did, the choice that she made. It can’t have been easy, living in hope that fades daily that there will be some news of her lover. But what I can’t forgive is why Frank insisted on all the lies. What a price to pay for Mum and ultimately for me. And why? So that his manly pride was intact? Because he had to be in control? Why?’

  Annie’s emotional outburst and raised tone of voice had attracted the attention of some of the other diners who were turning round to look at the couple in the corner. Jack swallowed hard and
raised his hand to attract the waitress. ‘Let’s order,’ he said gently.

  ‘I would like the steak please, rare, with all the trimmings,’ he said.

  ‘Just the Caesar salad for me please,’ requested Annie.

  ‘And we’ll have a bottle of the house white as well please.’

  Jack waited until the waitress had brought their wine and poured them both a glass before saying, ‘I’m on your side, you know. You’re in shock. This is not the sort of thing anyone should have to deal with, but you must either deal with it or let it defeat you. I know you better than anyone else on this planet and I know how much you loved and respected Frank. It was obvious to everyone who knew you both how much he loved you, too – maybe too much, maybe fear of losing you was part of what drove him to do what he did.’

  ‘Or did he just put up with me because he wanted Mum? If he loved me that much he could have, should have, been honest with me,’ Annie interrupted bitterly, her eyes sparkling with anger. ‘How can you love someone and lie to them every day of their life?’

  Frustrated, Jack forced himself to remain calm even though his every instinct was to voice his own feelings about how badly Annie had been treated by those who should have protected her. ‘Love, you have so much anger inside, you have to let it go before it eats you up.’ he reached across the table to enclose her hands in his. ‘I will do whatever I can to help you.’

  The waitress arrived with their food, forcing Jack to withdraw his hands. Annie resumed her previous blank stare and sipped her wine. ‘Just promise me you will try to let that anger go and give yourself a chance to deal with your emotions and I’ll say no more for now,’ he said.

  Annie nodded, which Jack accepted as the closest he was going to get to an agreement. He changed the subject and for the rest of lunch the conversation was confined to trivial topics. Annie pushed her food around the plate a lot and didn’t manage to eat much, but she was tempted to a dessert of apple pie and ice cream.

  Jack called a taxi and paid the bill while they were waiting for it to arrive.

  ‘Thanks for lunch, Jack, and for not giving up on me,’ Annie said as she got out of the cab outside her house. ‘And by the way, I was never wrong,’ she told him and slammed the door behind her.

  Jack told the taxi driver to drive on to his house and then changed his mind. The effort of controlling his own temper throughout lunch was becoming too much. He told the driver to stop, got out of the car and started to walk at a furious pace away from Annie’s house. As soon as he was out of sight, he turned and drove his fist into the trunk of one of the trees lining the street. ‘Too right you’re angry,’ he muttered. ‘I am too, but there’s bugger-all I can do about it.’

  David Henderson was enjoying a rare lunch with Bertie Ward in a bar around the corner from the offices of Ward, Price & Jefferson. Finding Bertie was in when he arrived at work that morning, David had tapped on his office door and asked if he could have a word. Bertie had always liked David. He admired the ambition and drive that he saw in the younger man and recognised he had shared those same qualities when he first joined the practice fifty years ago. When David asked him whether he knew or remembered anything about the de Lacey family that had lived at Chaddington Manor, he was intrigued and had suggested they talk at lunchtime.

  Bertie was well known as a lover of fine food and wine, so David was pleased to accept. He always enjoyed Bertie’s company and the old man was full of stories from his long and colourful life.

  The bar had been recently refurbished by its new proprietor, a celebrity chef who was trying to pioneer a more casual approach to dining, claiming that fancy table settings and leather-bound menus were not essential to good food. It was certainly busy, proof that the people of Barminster agreed.

  David and Bertie occupied a table at the front of the bar with a good view over the square and the cathedral beyond. Having placed their orders with the waitress, Bertie, never one to beat around the bush, turned to David and asked, ‘So what do you want to know about the de Laceys and why?’

  David was prepared with his answer. ‘The why is a long story,’ he said. ‘Would you accept a much abbreviated version which is that we have reason to believe that a close relative of Suzie’s worked for them before the war and may have gone back to work for them after the war. We only found out about the existence of this relative very recently and are trying to find him, if he is still alive, but of course Chaddington Manor is no longer occupied by the de Lacey family, hence the need to trace them first.’

  Bertie stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘So there’s no question of you wanting to track them down for money or any underhand purpose then?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ confirmed David. ‘You could say we have unearthed a huge skeleton in Suzie’s family cupboard, which we need to expose completely before burying it properly so that they can all move on – her mother in particular.’

  ‘The de Laceys were typical of many families of their era,’ Bertie began. ‘Aristocratic, land-owners, property in the country, Chaddington Manor, as well as a place in town. But throughout the twentieth century it became increasingly difficult for many of these families to cope with the rising costs of maintaining these big houses. Families were getting smaller as it became usual to have fewer children, and during the wars many of the servants and staff left to join the army or work in the fields and the factories and many of them did not return. The whole fabric and way of life for everyone changed dramatically, including the upper classes. They no longer needed, nor could most but the very wealthiest afford, to keep the houses running. I am afraid this is what happened with the de Laceys.’ Bertie paused as their food arrived. ‘And of course, they, in common with most families, suffered dreadfully during the war. The oldest son and heir, Matthew, was killed in action somewhere in France and one of their daughters died during a bombing raid whilst in London. That only left two younger children, both girls. It would have been shortly before I joined the practice here that they left. Just handed the house over to the National Trust and moved to London permanently. Of course, it wasn’t as straightforward as all that. Everything had to be done legally and it was. A friend of mine, Adam Boyle, who had just started working at Fletcher & Fletcher, was on the legal team that handled the transfer. He died a few years ago, but as far as I know, Fletcher & Fletcher still represent the de Laceys.’

  ‘Do you think they would be able to tell us where to contact them?’

  ‘They won’t just hand over an address – you should know that as well as I – but I think it would be reasonable to ask them to forward a letter.’

  ‘Thanks, Bertie. You’ve been a great help. I’ll settle that,’ said David, taking the bill from the waitress.

  Suzie’s lunchtime was far less interesting – a low calorie sandwich from Boots and a cup of tea, both consumed at her desk as she compiled a list of possible local victims of an insurance fraud story Tom had been working on. After keying in the name and telephone number of the last person on the list, Suzie closed the file and picked up the telephone.

  ‘Directory enquiries, what name please?’ said the voice that answered.

  ‘The Royal Norfolk Regiment,’ replied Suzie.

  ‘I have one listing, in Norwich. Would that be the one?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Suzie redialled. The phone was answered by a male voice offering to help.

  ‘I hope you can,’ said Suzie. ‘I’m trying to find a relative who served with the sixth Battalion of the Norfolk Regiment during World War Two and was probably in Singapore when we surrendered to the Japanese.’

  ‘We could certainly confirm whether your relative was serving in Singapore at that time,’ stated the voice in a matter-of-fact and slightly bored tone. ‘But I’m afraid we can’t give out further, more detailed information to anyone who isn’t next of kin.’

  ‘I have reason to believe that we may be,’ said Suzie.

  ‘I would need more tangible evidence than your belief,’ rep
lied the voice, somewhat curtly. ‘I don’t mean to be difficult, but it is against the rules. I would need to see a birth certificate or proof of identity.’

  ‘Okay, thanks anyway.’

  Suzie hung up, disappointment and frustration clear on her face. If she was realistic she had not truly expected to find out too much from the regiment, but it was in her nature to be optimistic, so she had harboured a hope that it might be as simple as that.

  ‘You’ll have to think again,’ she reprimanded herself. ‘Let’s hope David has a more successful time with Bertie.’

  She flicked her computer screen back on and continued with the list of forthcoming events she was compiling for the diary dates section of the next edition, taking out her frustration on the computer keyboard as she bashed away at the keys. She was completely absorbed in her task when she became aware of Tom standing behind her.

  ‘I’m glad I’m not a digit on your keyboard,’ Tom observed dryly. ‘Have some compassion will you?’

  Oblivious, Suzie looked up in surprise.

  ‘Whatever the problem is I’m sure it isn’t the poor computer’s fault and I don’t think sensitive equipment likes being used as a punch bag.’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t realise I was.’ Suzie forced a smile.

  ‘Well, this department’s already over budget on planned expenditure on equipment this year. There was the expensive camera that Alice dropped from the top of The Death Plunge for starters.’ Alice was a junior reporter who had been sent to ride The Death Plunge, the year’s most talked about white-knuckle ride at a local amusement park, report on the experience and photograph that thrilling moment when the train seemingly plummets to the ground. Instead she let go of the camera to grip more tightly to the safety bar and the camera smashed to the ground. Tom hadn’t finished. ‘And not forgetting the computer hard drive that suffered death by coffee when Judy threw a whole pot at Carl and missed. We do not need to add “worn out by heavy-handed typing” to the list.’

  Suzie realised she was being teased.