by Marcus Alden
‘What’s this?’ Dan asked. He pointed to a series of sticky notes and sketches.
‘They’re drawings for a children’s story I’ve written. Most of the artwork is done, but I’m still working on the end. I’ve just been too busy with study and work to finish it,’ Sarah said.
‘They’re incredible. I don’t know anyone that can draw like this. Why didn’t you do illustration instead?’ Dan asked. Sarah smiled.
‘It was a hard decision, but something stopped me from doing it. I guess deep down I didn’t want the insecurity that goes along with being a self-employed creative. Some of my friends have gone down that route. They’re all great at what they do but for one reason or another they’re either broke or have had to change careers. Seeing them struggle like that—.’ Sarah paused. ‘For me art is what makes life come alive; it can communicate so much. But like many things money gets in the way. Everything is motivated by money; people that have it telling those that don’t what to do. So I chose something a bit more stable and I keep drawing as a hobby,’ Sarah said.
‘It looks like more than just a hobby. What’s the story about?’ Dan asked as he examined the rest of the sketches.
‘It’s a cold war thriller,’ Sarah said as she pointed to a drawing of a penguin.
‘Clearly, that’s just the right subject matter for the under 5’s. You’ll be beating the publishers away,’ Dan said as he laughed.
‘It’s about a penguin and his friends,’ Sarah said.
‘They really are great drawings,’ Dan said.
‘Thanks, but I’m sure you’re just being kind. I haven’t shown them to any professionals yet. I can’t bring myself to have it picked apart just yet,’ Sarah said.
‘I really wouldn’t worry. They’d be stupid to reject it,’ Dan said. Sarah shrugged her shoulders.
‘We’ll see,’ Sarah said as she looked at her sketches. ‘But before I become a bestselling children’s author there’s the slight problem of finding my keys.’ Sarah finished speaking as dance music thumped through the wall. A few seconds later the track changed and a new song played. ‘Oh, she does this all the time. Listens to five seconds and then skips to something else. I feel like punching my housemates sometimes,’ Sarah said as she banged on the wall. The banging made no difference and the track changed again. ‘Dan, can you get me that backpack on the back of the door?’ Sarah rummaged through the stuff on her desk and found the car keys in a bowl of jewellery. ‘What else do we need? Laptop, notebook, pen,’ Sarah said her list out loud.
Dan looked around the room as Sarah gathered her stuff together. He could see now that although the room looked chaotic Sarah knew where everything was. Sarah stuffed the bits and pieces into the small backpack.
As Sarah locked her door the girl in the next room opened hers. The housemate had a sour face and hair that was tied up in a messy bun. Her face was pig-like and carried the expression of someone that disliked everything and everyone. The girl’s arrogant eyes looked up and down at Dan. She said nothing; her body language conveyed more than words. Sarah turned around and saw the pig-faced girl.
‘It was you, wasn’t it? You and her upstairs messed with my presentation,’ Sarah said in an aggressive tone. Sarah pushed the pig-faced girl at the shoulder which forced the girl to take a step back against the door. Sarah surprised herself with how forthright she was, but it was too late to worry.
‘Get off me!’ the pig-faced girl said. ‘So what if I did edit your presentation a bit?’ The pig-faced girl had an expression of victory which made it obvious that she had done it.
‘You didn’t edit my presentation you sabotaged it with explicit photos that my tutor and the rest of my class saw. You’re pathetic. Just because your grades have fallen lower than your morals doesn’t mean you have to drag everyone else down with you. ’ Sarah said. The pig-faced girl laughed with a smug expression.
‘I’d rather have fun than be a frigid geek like you!’ the pig-faced girl said.
‘At least I don’t sleep with every guy I meet,’ Sarah said.
‘Well I can get them; that’s more than you can say,’ the pig-faced girl said. Sarah laughed.
‘Has it ever occurred to your tiny brain that I don’t want to be like that? Besides, this is my new boyfriend,’ Sarah said and turned to Dan. Sarah put her arms round Dan and kissed him. Dan’s surprised face was obscured by Sarah’s and, for a brief moment, he forgot everything. He could smell Sarah’s perfume and, like a warm blanket, it wrapped around him with a comfort that he hadn’t felt for a long time. Dan’s thoughts sped up with the excitement and jumbled around. All too soon it was over and Sarah’s lips parted his. Dan stared back into Sarah’s eyes as she looked back at him.
‘Get out of my way,’ the pig-faced girl said as she pushed past Dan and Sarah. The pig-faced girl left the corridor.
‘That worked. She’s even madder now, haha. It was believable, right?’ Sarah asked.
‘Oh yeah, I mean, she didn’t realise, like how could she, it was real, wasn’t it?’ Dan stumbled over his words. Sarah smiled and took his hand.
‘Want to be a partner in crime?’ Sarah asked with a wild look on her face.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Dan asked.
‘Follow me.’ Sarah walked to the pig-faced girl’s door. ‘Look, she didn’t lock it.’ Sarah pushed the door back. ‘Come on Dan don’t tell me you're scared?’ Sarah said as she led Dan into the room.
‘What are you thinking? You’ve gone suspiciously quiet,’ Dan said.
‘I’m thinking the green clothes recycling bin outside is about to get some designer donations,’ Sarah said with joy.
‘Oh, Sarah you can’t,’ Dan said as he looked round to check the pig-faced girl was not there.
‘Watch me, or better still, help me.’ Sarah picked up an armful of clothes and put them in a carrier bag. Then Sarah opened the pig-faced girl’s wardrobe. Inside the wardrobe were piles of shoes and bags. ‘If she wants a battle I’ll give her a war.’
‘And why is this girl so bad?’ asked Dan.
‘She’s not bad she’s evil. She ruined my presentation for no reason. So I’ll get her where it hurts most: her wardrobe.’ Sarah laughed. ‘You must think I’m horrible Dan? Trust me I’ve never done anything like this before,’ Sarah said as she shut the wardrobe.
‘Why am I not convinced by that statement?’ Dan said. Sarah walked towards the door with bags full of the pig-faced girl’s clothes.
‘If you could be so kind as to open the door,’ Sarah said. Dan opened the door.
‘What if she comes back now? What would you do then?’ Dan said as he took some of the bags from Sarah.
‘What if, what if? You can't live like that or you’d never do anything,’ Sarah said. Dan followed her out and they walked to the green recycling bin. Sarah took big handfuls of the clothes and fed them into the non-retrievable container. ‘You know revenge feels like a type of therapy,’ Sarah said.
‘I’m not sure the experts would agree with you there.’
‘Well who cares about experts?’ Sarah asked. Dan put the last pair of designer shoes into the donation bin as he heard screams from the distance.
‘I feel like an accomplice,’ Dan said.
‘That’s because you are one. Let’s go before she sees. We’ve got work to do anyway.’
Sarah unlocked the boot of her old green hatchback. It resisted the pull upwards and let out a disobedient creak. Sarah put the backpack next to a pair of muddy wellies and creaked the boot back down again.
‘As you can see I have the latest model complete with leaking sunroof, faulty electrics, and a heater than only blows out cold air. Oh, and don’t wait for me to unlock your door as I haven’t been able to lock it for two years,’ Sarah said. Dan smiled and shook his head.
As Sarah’s car reversed it made a high-pitched squeal.
‘That doesn’t sound healthy,’ Dan said.
‘Oh, it’s fine. You haven’t let me down yet have you ba
by?’ Sarah said as she tapped the steering wheel.
Sarah drove down a narrow lane. Overgrown foliage enclosed the road like a tunnel.
‘The church must be here somewhere. The map shows it after the bend,’ Dan said.
‘I think we should get out and have a look,’ Sarah said. Sarah parked the car at the side of the unmade road. Dan and Sarah continued on foot.
‘If anyone had told me last week I’d be walking the countryside with a stranger looking for dead relatives I would have laughed,’ Sarah said.
‘I can’t say I saw it coming either,’ Dan said.
‘That looks like a church roof,’ Sarah said as she pointed over the hedge. Dan and Sarah reached the gate of the churchyard. They saw an old man with a wheelbarrow hunched over one of the graves Dan and Sarah split up to search for the newest headstones.
‘Eggleston, Bowers, Harper; these are the most recent names I can see. How about you?’ Dan called out. Sarah didn’t look up.
‘Dan, come and look at this,’ Sarah said. Dan hurried over to her. ‘Look; Ben and Emily taken from us on the 3rd December 2007. We will always love you, Mummy and Daddy. That’s so sad, they were only two days old,’ Sarah said.
‘Oh, I thought you’d found something. Yes, that is sad,’ Dan said.
‘Looking for anyone particular?’ the old gardener called out. The man’s voice was quiet and strained like he had a sore throat.
‘We’re looking for James Easton,’ Dan said.
‘Don’t know him. I just come for my wife and daughter. But if you go in there Judith will know,’ the gardener said.
Dan noticed a bicycle propped up against the porch of the small church. Dan pushed open the church door and cold, musty air met his face. A tall stick-like woman with glasses arranged flowers at the east end of the church. The woman plucked out dead flowers from an arrangement and collected them to one side.
‘Excuse me, are you Judith?’ Dan asked. The grey-haired woman with rectangular glasses looked up and then back at the flowers.
‘Yes, how can I help you?’ Judith said as she looked at the flower arrangement.
‘We’re looking for the grave of James Easton. The man outside said you’d know where it was?’ Dan said. Judith nodded.
‘Let me just finish this and I’ll show you.’ While Judith snipped away at the flowers Dan and Sarah glanced around the church. The light from the stained-glass windows bathed the floor with colour and spilled onto their shoes. It was a pretty church, plain in style Dan thought, but homely. Judith put down her secateurs and took off her gloves finger by finger.
‘Easton, is it? It’s over here, follow me,’ Judith said.
‘You mean there’s no grave?’ Dan said.
‘No, there’s no grave just a plaque. Here it is along with the others,’ Judith said as she pointed.
‘Others? What others?’ Sarah questioned.
‘Yes, the Easton family has been here for generations. See for yourself,’ Judith said. Dan looked up at the wall of plaques and then back at Judith.
‘So who organised James Easton’s funeral?’ Dan asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know I’m afraid. The vicar would know. Such a nice man; he’s gone to Devon on holiday, but he’ll be back next week. I can write a note for him if you like?’ Judith said.
‘Yes, if you would,’ Sarah said. Judith walked away to the office. Dan and Sarah examined the names on the wall.
‘There are loads of names but they don’t say anything different to the newspaper. It’s a dead end quite literally,’ Dan said. Sarah took photos on her mobile.
‘We’ll keep looking, there has to be something,’ Dan said.
‘No flash photography inside the church,’ Judith said as she strutted back. Sarah rolled her eyes.
‘Name?’ Judith spoke at them rather than with them, Dan thought.
‘Daniel Easton.’ Judith looked over her glasses and stared at Dan.
‘Phone number?’ Judith wrote the number down and flipped shut the diary. ‘Now I must leave you. What with the vicar away and Marjorie’s knee op it’s all left for me to sort.’ The tall woman hurried back down the aisle to the flowers.
Dan and Sarah walked out of the church.
‘What next? I don’t know what to make of any of that,’ Sarah said. Dan shook his head. Dan and Sarah had just reached the gate when they heard Judith’s voice.
‘The vicar, he’s on the phone,’ Judith called out to them. She held dead flowers in her hand and waved them about. ‘The vicar just rang. I said that you were here and he can speak to you now,’ Judith said.
‘I’ll go and get the car,’ Sarah said. Dan walked back to the church. Judith looked pleased with having the responsibility of being a messenger and led Dan to the phone.
When Dan got back to the car he got out the sheet he had printed with the obituary on it.
‘So, what did you find out?’ Sarah asked.
‘The vicar said the plaque was delivered one day and that nobody arranged a funeral service at the church. When the newspaper printed that the service was going to be held the vicar rang them to correct it, but the newspaper wasn’t interested. The vicar said he waited at the church on the day, just in case anyone showed up, but no one arrived. I’m the first Easton the vicar has spoken to,’ Dan said.
‘What? So who arranged the plaque and why would someone print details of a funeral that didn’t exist?’ Sarah said as she looked at the sheet.
‘The vicar said he thought the whole thing was strange, but he put the plaque up anyway,’ Dan said.
‘Let me understand this. There’s no body, no relatives, and no funeral? Just a newspaper obituary and a plaque saying James Easton is dead?’ Sarah said.
‘Yeah, that sounds like the facts,’ Dan said.
‘Unless—.’ Sarah paused. ‘Unless you were trying to fake someone’s death. Who is to say James Easton is even dead?’ Sarah said.
‘But why would Maybury have contacted me about inheritance if my grandfather was still alive?’ Dan said.
‘I don’t know. There’s too many unsolved questions,’ Sarah said.
‘I still need evidence that James Easton is my grandfather. I mean, you don’t get your name inscribed on fancy plaques unless you’re somebody, do you? Where else would have the history of local families?’ Dan said.
‘Of course; I had forgotten,’ Sarah said. ‘We should check the Record Office.’
‘Yeah, I tried in the library but the site was down,’ Dan said. Sarah fetched her laptop and put it on the roof of the car. She plugged in her wireless dongle and waited for it to connect to the internet.
‘Well, the website is working now,’ Sarah said.
‘Really? You’re amazing, I mean—,’ Dan said as he hurried out of the car.
‘There are thousands of documents, here, you try,’ Sarah said as she turned the laptop so Dan could see it. Dan typed as fast as he could.
‘Yes, finally Easton is showing up. I’ll look for things in the last hundred years for now. Where are you James?’ Dan said as he skim read. ‘I’ve got you!’ Dan shouted. Dan was so excited his voice rose far louder than he had meant it to. ‘There’s a will dated 1954. The document is highlighted with the words James and Easton so there must be a close connection.’ Dan clicked on the document. The tension built up within him. Sarah came closer to the screen to see what the next page revealed. The webpage paused as it loaded and then the text appeared. Dan struggled to take in the result and stood motionless.
‘I can’t read it there’s glare on the screen. What does it say Dan?’ Sarah asked.
‘Access forbidden; you are not authorised to view article 734. Please consult the administrator or obtain a pass,’ Dan said in a hard tone.
‘How can they block files? Surely all the files are public?’ Sarah said.
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Let me see if there are any other documents.’ Dan clicked back and re-read the list of results. The page was laid out on a grid; th
e first box was the file name, the second was a keyword summary of the content. On the far right of the grid were the references to where each document was obtained from. On the line of the will Dan had tried to access it stated the numbers 734. He looked at all of the results, this time whatever age they were. Four documents linked with James had the code in the reference box blocking further access. Document three, however, had an additional reference to the number: ‘Artificis’, Purbeck, 1949.
‘Ever heard of this?’ Dan said as he tapped the screen. Sarah shook her head. Dan reached for his mobile and dialled the record office’s number. A woman answered.
‘I don’t have access to sealed files. You need to obtain the relevant permission and a pass in order to view them,’ the woman said.
‘Yes, and that’s why I’m ringing: I want to have a pass,’ Dan said in a curt tone.
‘And what I’m saying is that I can’t give that to you,’ the woman replied.
‘It’s crucial that I see these files. Why do they have restricted access anyway?’ Dan asked.
‘Like I said, I have no authorisation to view the files or to give out passes. Besides, they only work on our network for senior staff members. When you have obtained permission, you would need to arrange a supervised visit to the archives.’
‘Surely you can look up the reference number?’ Dan asked. The disgruntled woman mumbled to a work colleague away from the phone.
‘No, I cannot. All sealed files are exactly that: sealed,’ the woman snapped.
‘So, whose permission do I need?’ Dan asked.
‘You would need a senior archivist or to own a copy of the original document yourself. Once you have obtained the permission, you would be given a limited passkey to access the digital scans on our system or be shown the original documents. Have I answered all your questions?’ the woman said in a perfunctory way.
‘If I owned the documents I wouldn’t be asking to see the files would I?’ Dan said, bemused by the woman’s lack of understanding. ‘Can you please put me through to a senior archivist then?’ Dan said.