by Peter Martin
Garry’s shoulders sagged. ‘Is there no one with even a similar name who shows a passing resemblance to me?’ He knew he was clutching at straws.
The woman shook her head. ‘No, there isn’t anyone even remotely similar.’
‘But there must have been a few three or four-year-old children adopted that year.’
‘Yes, that’s true. The computer came up with a list of four, a child of one, two, two years old, and one three years old, but all of the wrong ethnic origin.’ Then considering the situation, she continued, ‘Of course it is possible a little boy of that age may have been fostered, although if that were the case he wouldn’t have been allowed to be taken out of the country.’
Garry sighed. ‘This is so frustrating. I’m certain I was here forty years ago because I remember things about the island, especially Thame. But I’ve no idea what happened to me. I must have been adopted, somewhere along the lines.’
‘Well, you weren’t adopted through this office Mr Flynn, but as I was trying to tell you if you were fostered you might find a record in the local government offices. However, as I’ve already stated this is unlikely. All I can suggest is since you have recollections of Thame perhaps you were adopted through the society there.’
‘Right, that’s where we go next,’ he told her, and glancing at Delia, said ‘Is that all right with you Deel?’
‘Yes of course.’
‘I wish you all the luck in the world, Mr Flynn. I understand how traumatic a situation of this type can be at such a late stage of your life.’
With little else left to say Garry thanked her for the help, she’d given and they left.
<><><>
He drove back as fast as possible, stopping on the way in a village on the outskirts of Thame, for a drink and a bite to eat. Unfortunately, their visit to the other adoption society also proved fruitless, leaving Garry wondering if all this was worth the bother. It seemed an almost impossible task to find any information out about his elusive parents. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake off the driving force inside him to get at the truth.
By mid-afternoon, they were back in their hotel room. Garry poured a couple of ice cold drinks, and they sat on the balcony to wind down after a gruelling day. He mulled over the day’s events, mindful that Delia might not be prepared to go along with his family research indefinitely. But was brought out of his reverie when she asked, ‘So what now darling?’
‘Wish I knew. We’re running out of options; that’s for sure. All that’s left is the library, the newspaper offices and perhaps the local government offices.’
‘And when do you plan to visit these places?’ she asked, lips pursed.
‘When it’s convenient.’ He coughed nervously into his right hand, bracing himself for Delia’s next comment.
‘Don’t worry, something will turn up, and if it doesn’t, well you’ve done your best. You’ll have to move on and get on with your life.’
‘You’re right, of course, although we’re not quite at that stage yet. Anyway, I’ll try to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. Didn’t I say we’d go somewhere nice this afternoon? All right, so we haven’t managed that, but we could dine out early, and visit a club later.’
‘Sounds good to me. When’s the last time we went out clubbing together?’ Delia smiled, seeming pleased at this suggestion.
‘It’s got to be before the kids were born. I feel like letting my hair down after all this stress, don’t you?’
‘I sure do. The more I hear, the more I like the idea.’
<><><>
Following another beautiful meal in the same restaurant as before, it was on to the Blitz, said to be the trendiest club on the island. A mite expensive to get in, and very pricey drinks, but that didn’t seem to matter. With lights flashing and loud music belting out they were soon on the dance floor mingling with the crowds. Around midnight, both agreed it was time to call it quits. It had turned out to be a fantastic night, the best they’d had in a long time. But when Delia started yawning, Garry laughed, saying, ‘How long did you say it’s been since we went clubbing?’
‘Too long, by the looks of it. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have been able to carry on much longer.’ They both fell about laughing.
‘Yes, I know what you mean, Deel. But what a great night we’ve had. It’s good to spend time together.’ She squeezed his hand in agreement.
Back in the hotel room, Garry wanted to carry on with the mood of their night out, but being last to visit the bathroom, he returned to find her fast asleep.
<><><>
After getting up late, the result of their night out, and having skipped breakfast, the remainder of the morning was spent lazing about on the beach before going back to the hotel for a bite to eat at lunch time. Secretly wanting to study the local map, Garry suggested taking it easy for the early part of the afternoon. So while Delia wrote a few postcards in their room, Garry perused the map spread out in front of him on the floor.
‘What are you up to now darling?’ Delia asked him.
Unsure whether she was irritated or not Garry answered sheepishly, ‘Oh, trying to locate the library. I might pop in, see if they keep copies of old newspapers in their archives. I’ll have a look through them for 1964. You never know - something might turn up.’
‘You’re very determined about this, aren’t you?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘It could be a long laborious job.’
‘Unfortunately, it’s the only way. But listen, you needn’t come if you don’t want to. I can go on my own.’ He tried to sound convincing but really he needed her support.
‘No, no, I want to come – it’ll give us quite a boost if something turns up.’
‘It will that.’ His eyes lit up with pleasure glad she’d agreed to accompany him once again.
Half an hour later, arm in arm, they walked over to the library, ten-minutes away.
Tucked in a side street close to the main government offices, the library was a tile-clad building of two storeys, and from the state of it built a long time ago. The ground floor housed all the books, so they headed for the first floor where the computers were located and archives stored.
Garry tentatively approached the woman at the reception desk, hoping she’d be able to supply some information. She told him issues of the local newspaper, The Gazette, were kept going back to the beginning of the twentieth century but were only available on microfiche. After explaining a little bit about what he was looking for she went over to a cabinet, and took out a set of microfiche for the year 1964. Then placed one of the film reels onto a spool at the side of a machine and turning to face them said, ‘If you’d like to come over here I’ll explain how this microfiche reader works?’
It was just a matter of focusing the screen and winding on the film, the trickiest bit was changing the reel, but they soon got into it. Before long they had the image of The Gazette dated 1st January 1964 in focus. It looked as if the newspaper averaged thirty pages per day. Garry suggested it might be quicker if Delia used the machine on the next desk as it was taking about five minutes to scan through the whole newspaper.
‘I’ve had a thought, Deel. We need only look at the first few pages; my rescue from drowning would have been front page news at the very least.’
Delia shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant way, and said in a half-hearted manner, ‘All right Garry, give me the next reel.’
Garry guessed they’d be in the library right through until closing time at seven o’clock, and after three hours searching, having found nothing he started to think it was an afternoon wasted.
Nonetheless he decided to carry on. Before long he came across something that struck him as rather odd. He’d searched up to 2nd September and noticed that the next edition was the 4th September and not the 3rd. He checked and rechecked but the enigma remained the same. Very strange, he thought.
‘Hey Deel, come and look at this.’
‘Have you found something?’ She asked excite
dly, getting off her chair to go directly to where he was sitting.
‘Maybe, maybe not. I can’t be sure. The microfiche jumps from 2nd to 4th September. So what’s happened to the edition for the 3rd September?’
He moved the reel back and forth for her to see what he meant.
‘Does the newspaper give an explanation in the issues for day before or the day after?’
‘Not a thing. If the paper wasn’t printed, because of a strike for instance, surely that would have been mentioned, but there’s nothing.’
‘It still might not be anything.’
‘You’re right, I think I’ll ask someone, perhaps she can shed some light on it.’ He indicated to where the librarian sat and getting up from his seat walked over to have a word with her. After taking out the microfiche from the machine to clean and then replace it, she had to agree there was something amiss. She even said she felt sure there should be an edition for that date. It looked as if this would be another mystery likely to remain unsolved.
‘I don’t know what to make of it, do you, Garry?’ Delia asked once the librarian had gone.
‘It’s doing my head in! I realise it might be a mistake, but if someone erased that edition, how on earth did they manage it? This might go deeper than we think. I have a hunch it’s connected to the story about me, and if I’m right a lot of people must have been involved in a cover-up conspiracy.’
‘Well the plot thickens, so they say! But if you’re right, without the evidence, we can’t do anything.’ Then adding almost as an afterthought, ‘But why? Does that mean your mother and father were important or something?
‘I don’t know what to think anymore, but I find it frustrating.’
‘Anyway let’s try to finish this before the library closes just in case.’ Delia pointed to the microfiche reader.
The librarian had given them permission to stay in the library for half an hour after closing time, under the supervision of the head librarian who had to work late.
In the end, nothing else came to light and feeling dejected Garry couldn’t remember when he’d been so tired; he guessed Delia was too. A fact she confirmed as they walked back to their hotel room, both wanting only to lie down for a few minutes.
‘If I have to go through that again – it’ll drive me nuts,’ Delia admitted.
‘Me too, but we might have to, after all, we’ve drawn a blank, all we’ve found out is the 3rd September edition of The Gazette isn’t on microfiche at the library. So, unfortunately, Deel, it looks as if we’ve no choice but to visit The Gazette’s offices and if they don’t keep back copies of their newspapers, we’ve had it.’
‘Oh Garry, this is getting ridiculous,’ she complained. ‘All I can see in my head are bloody newspapers – and it’s giving me a headache.’
‘Come on love, this is our last chance. We’ve visited the police, the hospital and the adoption societies and got nowhere. It won’t take us as long as it did at the library because we know what day we’re looking for. If September 3rd is the day it happened, then it’ll be in The Gazette back copies. But if not, at least we can cross it off our list.’
‘Yes, I suppose. Although that sounds ominous - how many other things have you got on your list?’
Not wanting to answer Garry quickly changed the subject suggesting, ‘So why don’t I buy you dinner - I’ll bet you must be ravenous.’
‘You know something Garry, I got that involved with those blasted microfiches, I completely forgot about my stomach.’
‘Go and have a shower, put on some make-up and that sexy yellow dress I bought you last summer and we’ll go out.’
‘I’m not sure I’ve got the energy,’ she said, with a half-smile.
‘You will have once I’ve finished with you,’ he told her giving her a playful slap on the behind.
<><><>
They had a pleasant evening, and left the restaurant early, but once in bed, fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Most of the following morning was spent shopping, not only buying presents for their children and grandchild but for each other as well. Garry bought Delia a beautiful pink pearl necklace while Delia chose a gold signet ring set with a small diamond for him. Both were equally pleased with their gifts. They’d been glad of the shade of the shopping mall during the morning, but now after enjoying a light lunch stepped out into the hot blistering sun.
Back down to earth again, they made their way towards The Gazette office on the outskirts of Thame. The fifteen minute uphill walk soon had Garry out of breath and sweating causing him to stop for a few seconds to rest and wipe his face and brow with a handkerchief. Delia looked hot too, but not needing to rest commented as much, teasing him by saying how out of condition he was, a fact he couldn’t deny.
‘Here we go again,’ Garry said standing outside a small modern office block. ‘Let’s pray something turns up here.’
‘It will, Garry.’ Then muttering under her breath Delia added ‘It has to, it’s driving me mad!’
They pushed their way through the swing doors, then down a small corridor to what looked like a reception desk. A small grumpy looking woman with grey hair scrunched up tightly in a bun presided over the counter.
With a forced smile and looking over her pince-nez glasses she said, ‘How can I help you, young man?’
Garry was quite taken aback, fancy being called young, he thought, but all he said was, ‘Do you keep back copies of The Gazette? And if so, how far back do they go?
‘I’m not altogether sure sir… have you a particular date in mind?
Garry cleared his throat. ‘How about forty years?’
‘Forty years ago, sir. Mm... I doubt it.’
‘Well, could you find out for me please, it’s important?’
The woman looked a bit put out, saying sternly, ‘I suppose I could. Wait here and I’ll make enquiries.’
She left the counter for about ten minutes and returned in a slightly better mood. Garry crossed his fingers for luck, hoping for good news.
‘It appears every copy of the newspaper ever published has been archived, all the way back to the first edition in the 1920’s.’
‘That’s fantastic news,’ Garry said. His eyes lit up with relief and renewed hope. ‘I’m looking for a copy published in 1964. Could we look through the archives for that year?’
‘Don’t see why not, please come on through.’ She lifted up the flap in part of the counter to allow them into what turned out to be a large office area.
Garry’s heart fluttered in anticipation as they walked past a dozen or so hard-nosed reporters, and what he took to be their assistants, presumably all busy working on tomorrow’s edition of the paper. At the far end stood a shelving unit that took up the whole of the back wall and full to bursting with binders containing broadsheet and tabloid newspapers. As they got closer it became evident they were in date order; apparently the very old copies were kept in a storeroom in the basement. In front of the shelves were three desks with two chairs to each desk. At one of the desks sat a dark-skinned man, his oversize frame being much too large for the chair he sat on. His chubby face topped with grey tightly curled hair, broke into a friendly smile when they sat at the desk next to his. Garry would have said he was in his early to mid-seventies.
‘As you can see, each shelf is dated with the year and month. The shelf for 1964 should he about halfway down the second bookcase. We have a pair of step ladders should you need them. If you want any help, please don’t hesitate to ask, the archivist is sitting at the desk in the corner.’ The receptionist told them pointing to the far corner a few yards away.
‘Thanks for your help.’ Garry smiled, going over to the second bookcase, looking first for the year and then the month September.
‘1962, 1963, there they are, 1964, and here’s September, Deel,’ His stomach started to flutter as he reached for and pulled out a heavy red binder, placing it on the desk behind him.
‘Right, let’s hope we’re on the right
track, eh Garry,’ Delia said, opening the musty smelling volume.
Garry felt sure they would soon have answers to some if not all of his questions. He carefully turned the yellowing pages, past the 1st and 2nd September editions only to find a tattered front page for the 3rd September issue with most of the news on that page missing.
Chapter Seven
Garry could hardly believe it. He looked at Delia and she too shook her head with surprise. He turned the pages back and forth to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But he wasn’t.
‘What on earth’s going on here, Deel? And what the hell’s happened to the front page? This has to be more than a coincidence, the page that’s been tampered with just happens to be the front page of the same edition of the newspaper which is missing on the microfiche at the library – 3rd September 1964.’
‘What about the rest of the newspaper? There might be something about you on the inside pages. Let’s check to be sure.’
They did, but as Garry thought, there was nothing about an accident on the beach or a missing boy. Then he turned back to what remained of the front page, it was obvious from the jagged edges on the paper that it had been deliberately defaced.
‘Whoever’s responsible, is undeniably trying to cover something up. But why would they do that?’ Aware that his voice had been raised Garry felt someone’s eyes on his back, and said, ‘Why such a mystery, especially after so many years?’ Then scratching the back of his head he turned around to see the dark skinned guy hastily turn away - he’d obviously been eavesdropping.
Then without warning, the man spoke in a deep baritone voice with a hint of an American accent. ‘Sorry for interrupting sir, but what seems to be the problem?’
Startled by this Garry couldn’t help wondering why this man was butting in. Perhaps he genuinely wanted to help, but when he turned to look at this giant of a man he saw the expressionless face gave nothing away.
‘Oh, we’ve found the newspaper we’re looking for, but part of the front page appears to have been ripped out. I’ve got the right date, 3rd September 1964. Am I going mad or what?’ Garry shook head. ‘It was bad enough yesterday when we visited the library and found the whole bloody newspaper missing from their records, and now this.’