Different Genes

by Claire Baldry

  “I can’t promise to tell you a lot, but I do have a couple of pieces of the jigsaw. We found your admission and exit record in our archives. The files have recently been reorganised following an allegation of child abuse at the home during the sixties. I suspect you may have escaped just in time. I have copied the papers for you.”

  Inside a plastic wallet were several documents. “Can I get you a coffee or tea?” They nodded. Matthew picked up a phone and requested refreshments. He was not allowed to leave the couple alone.

  Louise read the first piece of paper.

  28th July 1958: Louise Makepiece admitted

  Mother: Patricia Makepiece, deceased

  Next of kin:(Grandmother) Catherine Makepiece, incompetent, Address: 9, Penhurst Crescent, Rochester, Kent

  Responsible Adult: Ruby Makepiece (cousin), address: 24, London Road, Dartford, Kent

  Transported by Constable Richards, Kent Police

  Louise passed the first paper to Simon.

  The next paper read.

  Adoption Certificate: 19th October 1958

  It is hereby certified that Mr and Mrs P. Watson of 31, Sheering Mill Drive, Sawbridgeworth, are assigned formal adoption rights to Louise Patricia Watson DOB 22nd July 1955.

  Signed A. Mills, Registrar at Hellingham House.

  Louise looked at Matthew.

  I was adopted in October?”

  “That’s the date on the certificate. I would imagine that Mr and Mrs Watson collected you some months earlier.”

  “What does incompetent mean?”

  “It’s an old-fashioned welfare word for mental-health issues, learning difficulties, alcohol problems, even prostitution. To be honest, Louise, you are extremely fortunate that we have this much information. Keeping birth information about adoptees was not encouraged in the 1950s because of the shame of illegitimacy. Your adopted father, Peter Watson, made a substantial donation to the home. It’s likely that they kept him on file in case they should decide to ask for more.”

  Louise found a carbon copy of the receipt which had been in Joan’s file. “Thank you, Dad,” she said.

  “So am I definitely illegitimate?”

  “Nothing is certain, but there is no mention of a father, so it seems probable. My guess is that your birth mother died, and your grandmother took you in. It is only a guess though.

  “I think this is my grandma.” Louise produced the photo of ‘Nana’. “She doesn’t look like an alcoholic, does she?”

  Matthew showed some unguarded emotion and grinned, “No, Louise. It is difficult to match that photo with the word ‘incompetent’.”

  “Do you have any more questions?”

  “I don’t think so. Can I please take a photo of this room? I don’t recognise anywhere else, but this room feels familiar.”

  “Of course. I would offer to show you upstairs where the children’s living quarters were, but it has been completely gutted and turned into offices. I don’t think a tour would help. Feel free to take photos outside. I wish you every success with your quest.” Louise took a few photos of the room, and they left the building.

  Simon took a few more photos of the porch. “Lou, I know this sounds mad, but I’ve brought the case with us. Hold the handle, go and stand in the same place, and I will take another photo of you. ‘Then and now’.”

  And Simon directed Louise to stand holding the case in the exact spot where she stood at the age of three. He took several photos.

  “Time to leave now, I think,” said Simon, “How do you feel?”

  “I feel like someone has given me an extra piece of my life.”

  They had only been at Hellingham House for about two hours, but Louise was so tired that she could barely speak. Simon was pleased that he had purchased the extra space in the hotel. On their return, Louise lay on the king-size bed and fell immediately fast asleep. Simon opened his computer on the table in the living area. While his laptop warmed up, he looked at the watery outlines on Louise’s easel. He was stunned by the effect that a few lines could have on a blank sheet of paper. She had transported the dockyard onto the page. Simon could only guess how much comfort her painting brought to her in times of anguish.

  He opened the plastic folder of papers and entered the last known address of Catherine Makepiece into google maps. It threw up a map of Rochester. He switched to ‘streetview’, and a photo of a crescent of large Victorian terraced houses appeared on screen. Most of the houses appeared to be converted to flats. He took out the list of Kent addresses, which his computer had linked to the photograph of Nana’s house. The address in Rochester was there. He finally plucked up the courage to compare the photo of the house with Nana with the photo on his screen of the address from Hellingham House. It was an undoubted match. Louise’s grandma, Nana, and probably Louise as well, had lived in 9, Penhurst Crescent, Rochester.

  Louise woke up at three o clock in the afternoon. Simon made her a cup of tea.

  “We seem to take turns at sleeping through lunch. I’m sorry, Simon, you must be hungry.”

  “Not at all. I have been making discoveries,” and Simon showed Louise the google photograph of the house in Rochester. She used the mouse to turn the streetview photograph around at angles and examine every detail.

  They had three days left at the hotel. Louise insisted that they take some time out before seeking out the house in Rochester. She needed to regain her emotional strength, and she wanted Simon to have a break. So the following day, they visited Chatham dockyard. They explored the Rope Yard, took a trip inside the depths of a nuclear submarine, and Louise set up her easel and painted, while Simon climbed aboard a second world war navy gunboat. The day removed them from their mission and renewed their energy. That evening they ate dinner together in the hotel.

  Simon found the courage to speak.

  “Louise, you know I love you, don’t you?”

  “I do hope so, Simon, because I have so much to thank you for.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude, Lou, just your company. And I’m not trying to rush you, but this nomadic life living in two homes is very tiring. I know it is too soon, but if… when… you feel ready, I do hope we can move in together.”

  She looked down momentarily and reflected on her reply, “It’s true we’ve not been together long at all, but we have packed an awful lot into a short time. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m not getting any younger and I don’t think I will cope with those steps up to the studio much longer. I’m going to have to sell it. My mum, I mean Joan, would say she told me so. It’s going to take a lot of thought, but I would like it if you were included in my future plans.”

  “I want us to plan our future together, Lou, not ‘if’, but ‘when’. Promise me you will include me in the next phase of your life… our life.”

  “I promise. I really, truly promise.”

  The extra security of the conversation gave them strength for the next day.

  Nana haunted Louise’s sleep. She painted the walls with rainbows and danced over the bed. She finally locked Louise in the darkness of the hotel wardrobe, and Louise sat upright with a very loud scream.

  “Louise, wake up. The hotel staff will think I am murdering you.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Simon. I hate it when this happens.”

  “Let me hold you in my arms. You might feel more secure.”

  Louise drifted back to sleep, with gentle dreams of Joan in the room at Hellingham House.

  Simon was pleased that she was calm, but spent the next hour trying to remove his arm from under her back without waking her up.

  “Be careful what you wish for, Simon,” he laughed to himself. “This is the woman who steals your duvet. She is now removing all the circulation from your arm.”

  The following day brought rain. It bounced off
the hotel car park and invaded the hotel lobby. Louise and Simon delayed their breakfast in the hope of a reprieve, but the rain was determined to fill up the day.

  “Bloody Kent weather,” mumbled Simon. He wrapped his lists and printed map in a carrier bag and tucked them inside his coat.

  “I’ll bring the car round to the front,” he said to Louise, “You wait in the entrance.”

  The commissionaire intercepted him.

  “Would you like me to bring your car around to the front entrance for you, sir?”

  “Yes, please,” said Simon, and he handed over his keys.

  “The power of a suite,” remarked Simon to Louise, “But I have no idea how much to tip him.”

  “Don’t ask me,” Louise said, “I don’t think he’d have offered to drive my Astra.”

  Someone from reception sheltered them under a large umbrella on the short route to Simon’s car.

  “I could get used to this,” Simon whispered to Louise, as he fumbled for some change from his pocket.

  They drove the two miles to Rochester, still laughing about their elevated status.

  They easily found Penhurst Crescent. It was an elegant road not far from the Church. Simon managed to park, and they walked hand in hand in the rain until they found number nine. Louise took a photo. “If I wasn’t so involved, I would paint this road. It’s beautiful.”

  The tall Victorian or possibly Edwardian house had been converted into flats. There were four doorbells on the entry phone. There was no point in ringing any of the bells.

  “My grandma lived here,” announced Louise to Simon, “I lost touch with her, but I believe she was special.”

  “I’m sure she was remarkable.”

  “Is this the end of our search, Simon?”

  “It might be, but don’t give up yet, Lou. I have a few ideas.”

  They hurried back to the car in the increasingly torrential Kent rain.

  That evening they sat in their hotel suite and watched the weather forecast. There would be more rain the following day with sunshine predicted on the morning of their departure. The dockyard was preparing for its winter closure, but they agreed to return anyway on their last full day and to make a short final visit to Penhurst Crescent before driving home on the Friday. Simon would visit the Lifeboat Collection, and Louise wanted to look at the pictures in the gift shop to see if it was worth offering them any of hers.

  “I don’t make much profit,” she explained to Simon, “But the sales do help with the cost of materials.”

  They then sat and wrote a list of questions about Louise’s adoption, which they wanted to pursue.

  Could they trace Ruby? What relation was she to Louise?

  What happened to Catherine? Why was she described as ‘incompetent’?

  Could they access the deeds to the house in Penhurst Crescent?

  How did Patricia die?

  Would the police have any records which might help?

  “I don’t know how we should go about this, Lou. I do know you can employ an agency to help, but I bet it’s expensive. We’ll have to do some research when we get home.”

  On the Friday, as planned, they returned to Rochester. The sun was shining and the whole area looked even more desirable. Simon and Louise stood outside number nine Penhurst Crescent and scrutinised the house.

  I’d say it’s now divided into four flats. Shame one of them isn’t up for sale, we could go and look round.

  “You are very devious, Simon.”

  An elderly man walked past them.

  “This crescent used to be the pride of Rochester. Look at it now. Our country’s gone downhill.”

  “Do you live here?”

  “Goodness, no. I couldn’t manage all those stairs. They have no lifts you know. I have a retirement flat near the docks.”

  “Do you, by any chance, know anyone who lives in this road?” asked Simon.

  “Sorry no. Are you looking to buy one? Investors, are you?”

  “I think my grandmother owned number nine in the fifties. I’m trying to trace my family history.”

  “She’d have been wealthy then, your grandma. These were prestigious family homes in the fifties. Have you tried the library?”

  “No.”

  “Rochester library has a massive reference section. My late wife and I traced the history of our last house through the records in the library. And don’t forget the museum. They have loads of local history. Better get there before government cuts close it.”

  “The museum or the library?”

  “Both.”

  “Are they planning to close them?”

  “No, but with this government it’ll probably happen.”

  Simon squeezed Louise’s hand. “Well thank you for your help.”

  Simon and Louise walked away.

  Louise started to laugh.

  “Shush, he’ll hear you. We’d better get to the library before the government close it! It was good advice though. Looks like we might need another trip to Rochester.”

  Louise cast a final look at the house, and they walked, hand in hand, back to the car.

  Simon offered Louise his car keys. “Do you want to drive?”

  He hoped she would refuse.

  “I don’t really want to drive your car, Simon. It’s too large.”

  “And I don’t want you to drive it. I just thought I should offer.” He opened the passenger car door for her.

  Twenty-Nine

  Simon Disappears

  Bob was desperate to learn more about Simon. He began to drive even more regularly to Robertsbridge and observe Louise’s flat. ‘This isn’t stalking,’ he told himself, ‘This is simply an investigation’. Eventually Bob’s vigilance paid off. Louise finally returned to Robertsbridge in her car two days before the trip to Chatham. Bob watched her carry her case indoors and saw the lights turn on. He waited for his rival to appear, but Louise seemed to be staying alone.

  The following Sunday, Bob arrived, as usual, at about 9 am for his daily vigil. At ten o clock, he saw Simon’s Mercedes arrive. He noticed that the outer door was unlocked, when Simon entered the lobby. At 10.30 am he watched Simon and Louise load their luggage into the Mercedes and leave the flat. They were closely followed by Doreen and Frank, who were on their way to the memorial to help with the decorations. Bob felt his heart beat faster as he noticed Simon kiss Louise, before shutting the passenger car door. He waited for five minutes, then drove to the back of the building. Doreen and Frank had left the front lobby door open. Bob crept inside with a piece of wire and inserted it carefully through their letter box. He wiggled it around and hooked one of the keys from their rack. It was like fishing. He wondered what he had caught. It was a single Yale key on a large ring. It fitted snugly into the lock of their ground floor flat, and he opened the door. Louise’s door keys were hanging on the rack, conveniently attached to a label, which said, ‘Upstairs’. He put Louise’s keys in his pocket and replaced Doreen and Frank’s Yale key. He carefully closed their front door and left the outer lobby door unlocked, exactly as he had found it. The outdoor congregation were watching a truck deliver a large Christmas tree to be erected next to the Memorial, ready to be blessed, as Bob drove out of the village.

  Louise and Simon hadn’t, as yet, decided which home they would travel to on their return from Chatham to East Sussex. They stopped for lunch just outside Ashford and began to plan the next few weeks.

  “I would be more secure and organised, if I knew where I would be and when,” explained Louise. “I feel a bit like a ping pong ball at the moment.”

  She hesitated, “Things are moving very quickly, Simon. The sensible side of me says we should take time to get to know each other better.”

  “How long did you take to get to know Charlie
before you moved in together?” asked Simon.

  “Almost three years,” replied Louise.

  “And did those three years help you to know him any better when you married him?”

  “No, not really. I was very naïve, and hardly even knew myself.”

  “And are you still as naïve now?” Simon challenged her.

  “Of course not.”

  “So maybe you don’t need so much time now.”

  “You should have been a barrister. You argue too well!”

  “I know what I want Louise and I’ll fight for it. That’s not the same thing as arguing.”

  “And once you’ve got what you want, will it lose its appeal?”

  “That, sweetheart, is a very cruel question. I will fight to keep you. In any case, how long have I got to live? Twenty years maybe? Not long enough time for me to take you for granted.”

  “Simon, you are such an odd mixture of reason and romance. I’m not always sure what you are thinking.”

  “And you, Louise Watson, are an equally odd mixture of stability and raw emotion. You see, we are perfectly suited.”

  The conversation had gone on long enough without resolution. They eventually agreed to live in each other’s houses in two weekly blocks. They would start at the studio, spend Christmas in Battle, and review the situation in January. In the meantime, Simon would help Louise finally to sell the bungalow, and to search for Ruby. They would aim to visit Rochester again early in 2017.

  They arrived in Robertsbridge just before 4 pm, unaware that Bob was still watching from a distance, as part of his daily vigil.

  The ‘two-week plan’ worked well for them. Each knew where they stood, and could now make arrangements for those simple domestic tasks, which could not be avoided. Simon began to meet Louise’s circle of acquaintances in Robertsbridge. He was even a witness when Frank knocked on her door to confess they had lost Louise’s door key. Joe and Oliver came to visit the studio. They were impressed with the views from the top of the house and they warmed to Louise. Oliver showed her considerable respect, which continued to stun his father.