The Other Family
Page 1
Chapter 1
May, Spring time, the sun is shining and I am walking through a parkland, yet it feels so cold still, or maybe it is only here where I am walking the coldness sits amongst all the stones.
I can see squirrels foraging, they look so cute don’t they? How can anyone not love a squirrel, I have even spotted a fox wandering amongst the tree’s that grow here, it is such a beautiful setting, would make a great place for children to play hide and seek, but children do not play here, infact I hardly ever see any children here.
It would be a great place to have a picnic, set the blanket on the ground, bring your cucumber sandwiches and a flask of tea and enjoy the scenery, I wonder if anyone does that kind of thing anymore? Or is it only back in the “olden days” as my mother would say, when life was different and more simpler than it is today. It would be lovely, if you don’t mind sitting amongst all the dead people lying around.
You see I am walking through a cemetery, I do find them fascinating places, a lot of history in a cemetery, some of these gravestones have been here for a hundred years or more. I have come to visit my grandfather, I call him Pop, I never met him as he died before I was born but still, I need to see him, Pop is buried here in Mitcham Road Cemetery in Croydon, South London, amongst this serene parkland setting.
I hope I get buried in a place like this one day, not sure I want my ashes scattered to who knows where, but to be honest I have not really given it much thought, its not the sort of thing you want to think about is it? But someone has to one day don’t they?.
I have read up on the history of the cemetery, it was opened in 1897, I bet Croydon was like a village back then, now it is just an extended suburb of London. Derek Bentley the man who supposedly killed a policeman in Croydon and was hanged in the 1950’s is buried here, as well as Tom Norman who was the Manager for Joseph Merrick, known as The Elephant Man.
There is also a Memorial to thirty four boys and two teachers from The Archbishop Lanfranc School in Croydon who sadly lost their lives in a air crash in Norway in 1961. My mother knew some of the boys and their families, I cannot imagine what that must of felt like.
The cemetery is huge, during its time the cemetery has been extended twice, I guess Croydon and the surrounding area just keeps on growing and people have to be buried or cremated somewhere, there are plaques and remembrance bushes, some of the gravestones are so intricate with their patterns and cherubs on them.
Pop’s grave has a headstone and sitting in one corner is a photograph of my grandparents, I lost my Nan a few years ago too and she is buried here with him, I have come today as I needed to speak to my Pop as I want to look him in the face when I tell him what I know. As I stand by Pop‘s grave, the stone reads
William Clarence Lello 1894 - 1963 and Grace Antoinette Lello 1914 - 1995
Hello Pop, its me, your granddaughter Lindsay, hello there Nan, I have come to tell you that I am going to trace your family tree, yes I am finally going to research and find out about our roots and where we come from so if you have got skeletons hiding in cupboards anywhere you had better tell me about them now, you are a bit of a mystery Pop, know nothing about your family but when I come back and visit next time I hope to know at least something. Your a quiet soul Nan, I should of pestered you some more about Pop’s family when you were still with us, we seem to think we are going to be here forever don’t we? But now your gone, if only you can talk to me one more time.
I noticed a few people about in the cemetery, come to lay their flowers or tidy up the graves, hope they did not notice me talking to a gravestone, they might think I am a bit potty, I bet other people talk to their departed love one’s though, is that a normal thing to do talking to dead people in a cemetery?
I think too much, I worry too much, I wonder if Pop was like that too? I know my Nan was not like that, she carried on with life like she did not have a care in the world, good on you Nan.
Chapter 2
I was born the same year as my Pop died, I am an only child, well sort of, my mother had a son when she was only fifteen and he was put up for adoption, she told me about it years later when I became interested in tracing my family history and she thought I might find out about him, so she sat me down one day and told me when I was fifteen, she told me that she thought she was “in love”, became pregnant and the boy who did the deed who was only sixteen himself refused to help in anyway, I can understand why she could not keep the baby, both parents were way too young to take on such a responsibility, my mother never spoke about her son again, I only know he was named Jamie and is ten years older than me, but I have never felt a need to try and find him. It did however cause me one dilemma, whenever I was dating a man the first question I asked him was “How old are you?”, one guy in particular I met when I was twenty five and he was thirty five, his name was Jason, I wouldn’t even let him kiss me until I had seen his birth certificate and met his parents to convince me he was not adopted, can you imagine meeting the man of your dreams only to discover he is your brother!
My mum Barbara is the youngest of six children, my father Robert is not on the scene, he disappeared when I was two years old, not disappeared as in vanished but he and my mum went their separate ways and he was not seen or heard from again, I do not even know my other grandparents, Robert’s parents, from an early age it was drummed in to me that you cannot rely on a man to stand by you.
I grew up feeling like I could not trust anyone, especially men, and I think as a result of this I find myself in my fifties still single and unattached, I do blame my upbringing in some respects, but parents do not come with a manual and my mother did her best on her own, she has had male suitors over the years but none lasted very long and today she is happy by herself. I certainly will not be giving my mother grandchildren, maybe its just as well, at least I was sensible enough to not have a string of kids by various different fathers like some single women do.
I find relationships difficult, its not that I am not interested in men its just I would rather keep them at arms length, otherwise it becomes too emotional and I do not like being a drama queen, though some men I have dated are drama queens themselves or sometimes I go the complete opposite way and throw myself at someone and get it totally wrong because they do not feel the same, I have made a fool of myself so many times, I have given up trying anything anymore.
I have another side to me too, one I keep hidden from everyone, I like looking at women, I am not a lesbian and I do not think I am gay, I have never been with a woman sexually that is but do have fantasies about it, I am definitely straight, but I just like looking at other women, admiring their legs, or their cleavage, you know like “she has nice boobs, or she has nice legs or she‘s got a nice figure” maybe I’m just looking at my own imperfections and wanting something better.
I am not into the pub or clubs scene, I feel far too old for that, I would feel like an old granny if I walked into a nightclub with all those twenty something year olds jumping about, apparently that is called dancing these days, not how I know dancing should be, I might go to a pub with friends or the family for a drink or a pub meal, but never by myself, a woman on her own stands out like a sore thumb and could easily be taken advantage of so my mother has always said.
I am a homebody, especially now I am older, I like my own company, it has taken me a long time to realise I like my own company, other people bring too many hassles and complications and drama and I am not one for any of those. I like being in my comfortable clothes at home, you know tracky pants and t-shirt or jumper, my family gave up years ago asking if I had a boyfriend yet, I think they finally accept that I am the way I am and I am happy that way, so if I am happy then they are happy.
I work part time in a local real est
ate office in Croydon where I get to meet lots of new people, but the majority of them are couples, you do not meet available single men where I work and I do not exactly put myself out and about either, some people must think I am totally boring, even I think I am boring! I just live an ordinary life, I hate being the centre of attention, hate swearing, hate people picking their noses and hate being late for anything.
I live in my own flat just a ten minute walk from Croydon town centre, it used to be a large three storey Victorian house but then a developer brought the house years ago and turned it into three flats, I live in the bottom flat which has a living room come dining room, a kitchen, only has one bedroom, and a bathroom and toilet combined, it is quite compact but good enough for me, my neighbours above are what I call a career couple, both doctors, Dr Patel and Dr Patel, one works at Mayday Hospital here in Croydon, the other at a hospital in London, I hardly ever see them, they always seem to be at work, my neighbour on the top floor is a young man named Kevin, he is twenty five, been living in the top floor flat for the past year, he is out at work all day and hardly ever at home on the weekends, so I hardly ever see him either, so the building is rather quiet most of the time. We all share the garden area, and when I do go to sit out there on a sunny day, there is only me to share it with, so I spend a lot of my time on my own, I am sure it was not intentional, life just turned out that way and I kind of just got used to it.
The majority of my friends are already married, some have children and even grandchildren as well and those that are still single seem to be like me, happy as they are, the married ones are too busy with their own families to socialise much and the single one’s are like me, rather stay at home, so you could say my social life is non existent.
I nearly forgot to mention though, how I could forget this I do not know, but I think a lot, too much sometimes, I think about couples a lot and how maybe I should be a couple but that is far too complicated and it only causes me pain and sorrow so I am too scared to even go there any longer, it would be nice to have a man to share things with but then I go and change my mind about that too sometimes, I need a man to change the light bulbs, I think, I do not like going up ladders, infact I do not like heights at all, I doubt things a lot too, I worry too much, I swear I was born worrying, I think I am quite naïve and gullible, tell me a sob story and I will fall for it, I am often too trusting of people, especially other women, men I am always suspicious of, well actually I am suspicious of people generally, not sure why, I think it is because I worry too much, maybe if I stopped worrying I might not feel so suspicious, it is just a vicious circle isn’t it? I believe everyone is good until they do something bad, and my brain is full of contradictions, I sometimes do not know what I think but I still think, I think maybe I have a personality disorder too sometimes and I think maybe I read too much stuff that I should not be reading on the internet, the internet is a wonderful tool but for the wrong person it can have the ability to help you self diagnose yourself, just as well I am not a hypochondriac but maybe I am something else that I have not found yet!
When I need a light bulb changed I usually slip a note in my neighbour Kevin’s letter box, he is very good like that, good to see some young people are so helpful. Not sure I would like a man living in my flat, men make a mess in the bathroom don‘t they?, if I had two bathrooms that would not be so bad, he could have his own bathroom, I also think I should not think a lot, could someone turn my brain off please, I lie awake at night sometimes thinking and sometimes I do not even know what I am thinking, I am thinking about thinking, I do get so frustrated with myself at times.
I got the short gene in my family being only five foot short, ha ha, though my Uncle Bill is six foot tall, what’s that saying “Eat your greens it will make you grow up big and tall” or something like it, well Uncle Bill must of eaten his greens, I remember one day at school dinner, I was eight years old at the time, I had greens on my plate, used to hate them then, I scraped all my greens off my plate onto the floor under my chair and declared “I am not eating that”, teacher was not impressed, made me stand in the corner of the Assembly Hall for an hour, I cannot remember having greens at school dinners again after that.
I have short brown hair in a bob style, it suits me, well I think it does, last year I had a purple stripe put in my hair at the hairdressers, she said everyone was having them done like that so I thought “yeah why not“, I loved it, though the reaction from my mother was “what have you done to your hair“. Some people have no sense of adventure, it is about the only adventure I have had these past few years.
I wear reading glasses too, they have been an addition as I have got older, I think they make me look like a little old lady or maybe I am just practicing to be one, see I am thinking again, one day I might stop thinking, actually I do not think that will ever happen, unless I am dead. I am not very fashionable, prefer comfort over style, my colleagues at work think I need a makeover, a new hairstyle, a bit more colour in my wardrobe, I always wear a black skirt, black tights and white shirt and black jacket to work, looks like a uniform but its practical I find.
My social life started going downhill once I hit forty, all my friends were married by then busy having babies which does not thrill me whatsoever, I am not the maternal type either, I look at a baby and they look at me and scream, I think they know I am just not baby material.
I remember my fiftieth birthday, you know the big five-o, everyone was delighted, another milestone in my life, I was the complete opposite, I had never felt so miserable in all my life, it was worse than turning thirty, and thirty was bad enough, forty was just oh hum, but fifty, I felt like I just turned eighty, how on earth did I get to be this old?, I felt ancient, I kind of just retreated even further into a homebody after that, who wants to go out with a old frump like me, not even me wants to go out with me.
I became interested in genealogy when I was about fifteen years old, it occurred to me one day that in order for me to be here my parents must have had parents, obviously I knew who they were, and they must have had parents and so on, so I became curious about wanting to know who they all were and where they came from.
I actually did nothing about tracing my family history until I turned fifty, I think having something like a hobby like genealogy got me out of my miserable slump of turning fifty and made me focus on that instead, back when I was fifteen years old, genealogy was not like it is today where nearly everything you want to research is online, back then you had to visit Somerset House or later St Catherine’s House up in London, where they kept the Indexes for births, deaths and marriages, you had to visit record offices if you wanted to look at Parish Registers and depending on where your ancestors came from that record office could be in any part of the country, it was a costly and time consuming hobby, and when your still a teenager or in your twenties and thirties you are too busy working, living, having fun, socialising etc to pursue a hobby like that all the time, too many other distractions back then.
When I first mentioned to my family that I was going to research our family tree back when I was fifteen years old and very curious about a lot of things, they looked mortified, especially my Nan who promptly said “what do you want to do that for?, why dig up the past?, I think someone did that years ago so no need for you to do it”. I did wonder at the time “Nan what don’t you want me to know about?”
Did I mention I have a suspicious mind as well, cannot help myself, I really think I should be a Private Investigator, I am really good at snooping on people without them even knowing I am snooping, well I am not really snooping of course, I just have an inquisitive nature, that is all, my birth sign is Leo so I am Leo the Lion and cat’s are always curious aren’t they?, well that’s me inquisitive and curious, just inquisitive and curious a lot!
When I decided to look into my family history once again, Nan had already gone to be with Pop up in heaven and I decided it was best perhaps not to ask the family about any family history and try and find out a
bout my family for myself until I knew more, that is if there is anything to find out about but I felt sure there would be.
Chapter 3
Well how do you start researching your family tree, well I sat down in front of my computer at home, like most people do these days, and signed up and paid for a subscription to a couple of websites, Ancestry and FindMyPast, and the first thing I did was a search for my grandfather’s birth. In I typed Pop’s name, William Clarence Lello and the search showed just one listed.
William Clarence Lello - birth March Quarter 1894 - Croydon
Ah the advantages of having an uncommon name I thought, so glad my name is not Smith or Jones or Patel, there were lots of William Lello’s but only one William with a middle name of Clarence, my Pop.
Next I checked the census records and found Pop on the 1911 census living at 22 Tamworth Road in Croydon, with his parents George and Carolyn and sister Annie. I also checked the 1901 census and found Pop living with his mother Carolyn and all his siblings in Caterham in Surrey, his father George was not listed with the family at the time and I did not check the 1901 census further to see where his father George was, I just assumed he got left off by mistake. I now had Pop’s parents name, George Lello, a butcher, and Carolyn his wife, and that of his siblings, Gerald, Howard, Mary, Robert, Elizabeth and Annie.
Wow I never knew Pop had any brothers and sisters, must find out what became of them too, I said to myself. I found Pop’s brother Gerald had married Mary Jackson and they had two children John and Penelope, his brother Howard had married Edna Grey and they had one child Frances, their sister Mary had married Alexander Cotton but it looked like they had no children as I could not find any.
Pop’s brother Robert married Alice Cotton, must be related to Alexander I was thinking, they had three children, Louise, Rose and Eric, next I found Elizabeth who had married Jonathan Meadows, it looked like they also had no children as I could not find any, and lastly Annie who had married James Walters and they had three children Sally, Roger and Andrew.