by M K Jones
Maggie’s voice broke as she bent down and read the last line, in smaller letters, at the bottom of the stone, Daughter of John and Ruth.
Maggie knelt down on both knees and put her hands on the gravestone, tracing the words. “She knew. And she wanted it to be remembered.”
Alice knelt beside her, saying nothing, and Jack came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Alan was the first to break the silence.
“There we are then,” he whispered. “There we are, Maggie. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Maggie stood up. For a moment she looked as if she was going to burst into tears, but then she shook herself, and smiled. “Yes, here she is. Lost for so long, and now found.”
Activity began at once, as if a spell had been broken. Alan got out his camera and photographed the grave, then arranged them all in various groups next to the headstone. As the children stood together to have their photo taken, Nick sidled up to Maggie.
“Are you alright, Maggie?”
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” It came out abruptly, but she didn’t want to share how she was feeling at that moment. She felt apart from them all.
“You look distant.”
“What did you mean, about my duty?”
He sucked in his cheeks for a moment, staring intently at the ground. “I think you’re a very unique person. You didn’t know it, but you’ve always had a specific purpose, to be fulfilled at a moment in time. That time came when you confronted Eira Probert. You’ve stood in the path of something moving through time. Time moves around us. You’ve prevented something moving ahead. Whatever you said to the thing that’s Eira Probert it must have been significant. It stopped her.”
“I just said what came instinctively to me, but I also remembered what Louisa had said to me, that it was important not to be afraid of her. So that’s what I told her. I meant that she would never take something that I love so absolutely. But how could that stop her?”
“That thing has hunted your family for a long time. We know for hundreds, but maybe even thousands of years. You didn’t know you had that ability in you until it needed to come out, amazing energy, much stronger that Eira Probert’s. The strength to keep calm and show no fear in the face of something absolutely terrifying. I know something about this. Perhaps we can take some time together for me to explain more?”
Maggie nodded her head. “Yes please.”
“And you know that Alice is special, don’t you.”
“What do you mean, Nick?”
“Think about it, Maggie. Of course Alice is connected to you and to Ruth, but she has no direct linear connection to the girl she saw at the funeral. Yet she is identical and they could both see each other. Esme Kerr is actually the direct descendant, but Eira Probert chose your Alice. Because she is special.”
Maggie was aghast. “I hadn’t seen that, but yes, it should have been Esme. What does it mean?”
“There will be other things in Alice’s life, strange things. But let’s talk about it later.”
Maggie grimaced, then responded. “I don’t understand. But when I don’t understand something, I don’t waste my time trying. I’m going to live a normal life and make sure that Alice does too,” She added, forcefully.
“Pragmatic,” he nodded. “But you are, aren’t you? Will you be OK?”
“She’ll be fine!” Zelah intervened. “It’s been a long journey. Now it’s over, is all.”
“Not quite,” Maggie replied. “One more visit to go.” Zelah nodded and began to chivvy Alan and the children to get back to the cars, to drive to Garth Hill.
On the way back Maggie walked next to Zelah, as Nick chatted to Alan, and the three children talked together.
“Jack says Alice is OK.” Zelah said as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.
“Yes,” Maggie replied, “I think she’ll be fine. But I’ll keep talking to her about it, even after I get back to work next week, and hopefully back to normal. They’ve asked me to go in tomorrow, by the way, to attend a couple of meetings.”
Zelah didn’t reply at first, then said, “I have something important I need to discuss with you and Nick. Something significant.”
Maggie was worried by the frown on Zelah’s and she wondered if something was wrong. Zelah had been absent so much recently and pre-occupied. It was unlikely to be a financial problem. Maybe it was her health, although she looked well enough.
“What about you, Zelah? Are you well?”
“What kind of question is that, for goodness sake? Of course I’m well!” Zelah prickled.
“You haven’t been around lately and you seem anxious.”
“I said I’ll speak to you later. We need to get this next visit over with first. I’m guessing you may want some time alone, this time?”
They had reached the cars. Jack made a beeline for Zelah’s car, while Maggie explained the directions to Alan. Alice accepted an invitation to ride with her new best friend, so Maggie drove alone with just her thoughts as company to Garth Hill cemetery.
* * *
She wasn’t really sure how she felt. Seeing Alice’s grave had been an emotional experience, both sad and happy at the same time. Now, it all seemed like an anti-climax. The job was almost done.
Until now, Maggie hadn’t appreciated that she was going to miss the excitement of the whole mystery after today, despite the horrifying experience with Eira Probert.
What was it Jack had said recently when she had helped him with his homework, “This is what you should have done, Mum?” A bad decision when she was younger had meant a working lifetime of unfulfilled boredom.
But what was worse? To have never had it, or to have had the enjoyment at least once. She was going to miss the drama of the past couple of months, despite the near disaster. Back to spreadsheets, graphs, strategies and meetings. God, she was dreading it!
She snapped out of her reverie. She’d arrived at the cemetery. The others were all waiting for her, standing in front of the chapel.
“Have you been waiting long? Sorry, I was thinking. It’s this way.” She led the way to the grave. Then she stood back as Alan and Esme read John and Ruth’s inscriptions.
Alan looked pleased. “So, this is my great-great-grandmother, and Esme’s great-great-great-grandmother. Both of ours, in fact.” He looked as if he’d just had a revelation. “We really are connected, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Maggie replied, “we really are.” Then she turned to Alice. “Why don’t you take Esme and her dad to see Esme Ellis’s grave, Al? Why don’t you all go?”
Alice nodded and led them all away. Maggie gave Zelah a significant look, which she understood, taking Jack and Nick by the arm, and pulling them towards the chapel.
“Thanks,” Maggie mouthed. Then she turned back to John and Ruth’s grave. Checking over her shoulder that no-one could see her, she put her hand on the marble column and felt a warmth go through it.
“Ruth, I hope you’re there.”
She felt the slightest of shudders, like air running through her mind and a sensation of panic in her stomach, or was it Ruth’s?
“Ruth, I met Louisa, your granddaughter. She told me what you told her, how much you loved her, and how much you tried to protect her and the others. How you wanted to protect us all. You succeeded, Ruth. If you hadn’t told Louisa, we would never have known. You saved us all.”
There was only one thing left to say. Her hand had started to go cold.
“You will see her again, Ruth. Just wait.”
“Mum, Mum! Esme wants to know the story!” An urgent voice whispered in her ear. Alice had run across the path from Esme Ellis’s grave. “Can I tell her some of it? Please? It’s her name, too!”
Alice was pulling painfully at her shoulder. Maggie took her hand away from the gravestone.
She drew in a deep breath. “Yes, we can tell her the history, but at the moment I don’t think we can give her the full details. Is that OK?”
“Yes, thank
s, Mum. Can I arrange to meet her at the weekend?”
“If her dad says it’s OK.”
Alice ran back across the path. The jumping up and down and flapping of hands told her that Alan Kerr had agreed. Maggie walked away from John and Ruth’s grave, knowing that in the future it would no longer connect her to her past.
Seventy Six
Alice and Esme insisted on returning to Maggie’s house, Alice wanted to show off the summerhouse; Maggie was glad of the opportunity to show Alan the ancestral home. But she didn’t press them to stay. As he waited to take Esme home, Alan hovered nervously, shifting from foot to foot and checking his watch when he thought Maggie wasn’t watching. Alan and Esme finally left at dusk, no doubt with an angy encounter with Lucy in store.
“Why was Alan so desperate to get away from us?” Alice asked over dinner.
“Because he’s scared of his wife!” It was Zelah’s first comment in some time.
“Zelah! He isn’t scared of her! He’d just made a promise he had to keep. That’s all, Alice.”
“Actually, he is,” Nick interjected, causing all of them to turn towards him. “But not because she isn’t nice,” he added, inclining his head at Alice. “It’s because she’s scared, for Esme.” He turned back to Maggie. “Lucy understands, you know, she gets it, much more than Alan does and much more than Zelah gives her credit for. He’s very nice, but he’s a history tourist.”
“What’s that?” Alice raised an eyebrow enquiringly, hoping for gossip.
“Someone who follows a hobby, but not very seriously, and wouldn’t really mind too much if there’s no outcome. Disappointed, but not touched. Lucy’s very conventional. And this isn’t. She wants everything normal and ordinary.”
“Does she think we’re not normal then?”
Nick grinned. “She knows these are very not-ordinary events, and she doesn’t want any more to do with it than she can help. She’s not brave, Alice, not like your mother.”
Maggie looked at Zelah and grimaced, but Zelah was miles away.
A funny remark and a comment slightly off the subject drew Alice away from asking more questions about Lucy and Alan.
As she poured some coffee, Maggie could see that Zelah was still drifting in and out of her own thoughts, barely acknowledging anything said to her.
Enough was enough. Holding on to her cup so she had to look at Maggie, she asked her “Zelah, what’s the matter? You’ve hardly been with us since we got here and you said earlier that you urgently needed to speak to me. So, what is it?”
But Zelah just sat, looking despondent. Her eyes flicked between Maggie and Nick, but not with the usual flash, rather, a hang-dog look. Maggie felt alarmed.
“Is something wrong? You’ve been away a lot lately.” No response. Again, more gently, “Of course, I’ll understand if you can’t tell us, but we are your friends. Really we are.”
“God damn it! Sod it all! I’m trying! Don’t be so bloody patronising!”
The response made Maggie jump, and Nick‘s cup stopped half way to his mouth.
“That’s better.” Maggie let out a burst of laughter at Nick’s expression. “Don’t worry, Nick. I think she’s going to be OK.”
Zelah drew up a deep breath, looked at her watch then back at both of them. Then she folded her arms on the table.
“I have two things to tell you. The first is part of the story. The second isn’t, well, not that story, your story. Actually, they’re both part of your story.”
She held up her hand to stop Maggie speaking. “I need to tell you what I’ve been doing. I’ve been trying to decide all evening what to say. Not like me, I know. So I’m just going to get it out. Then we’ll be in virgin territory. I’ve no idea what you’ll both say, so here goes.”
“First of all, I found Alice Ruth in 1881. She was staying with her aunt, Mary Anne Picton, in Carmarthen. They called her a ‘Visitor’. She was eight years old and that explains why she wasn’t on the family listing in Garth Hill. And I know who your great-grandfather was, Maggie. He wasn’t John and Eliza’s son. He was their grandson.”
Maggie’s mouth formed a silent Oh, but she closed it in response to Zelah’s wagging finger.
“He was the illegitimate son of their eldest daughter, Susan. That was probably Eliza’s mother’s name. Anyway, he was born when she was about fourteen. She was a promiscuous, illiterate farm peasant. Sorry, rather blunt, even for me.” She reached down into her bag, brought out a certificate, and handed it to Maggie.
“See, there,” she leaned over and indicated the space where the father’s name should be. “Blank. But the birth is recorded by Eliza, who names herself as the grandmother, here.” She pointed again. “And if you check the signature, it’s just a cross, so she was illiterate.”
Nick leaned across to look at the wide certificate.
“So that explains why the description changes from census to census,” Maggie said, her eyes still on the paper. “When he was grown up and looking after Eliza, he finally referred to her as his grandmother.”
“I expect old John or Eliza would have given his early information to the census enumerator,” Nick added. “If they had brought him up as their son, it’s possible that’s how they referred to him, or the enumerator misunderstood. I don’t expect they questioned the fact that he was a little boy and they were elderly, just accounted for the head, then moved on.”
“Not that it made much difference to people, anyway.” Zelah continued. “There was a lot of illegitimacy. Custom and practice, especially amongst the uneducated classes. It all changed years later. Became more moral.”
“He certainly became very moral,” Maggie replied. “I think he would have tried hard to cover it up and keep it a secret.”
“Why?” Nick asked. “Like Zelah says, it wasn’t unusual.”
“He moved into a different world. Think about it. The son of illiterate agricultural labourers. ‘Ag labs’, it’s a pejorative description. We know that his uncle was probably a clever man, but his aunt also had an illegitimate child and she was illiterate, too. He could have chosen to stay on the farm, but he left, went to live with his uncle when he was about fifteen. He started at the bottom on the railway company, and worked himself up to a manager. Then he bought a farm, then a bigger farm. He was a clever, ambitious man. And an avid Baptist, a figure of importance in his local church. I just think that the fact that he was the illegitimate son of an illiterate farm girl would not have been something he would not have wanted to advertise. And we don’t know anything about her, I assume, Zelah?”
“Actually, yes.” Zelah nodded her head. “She had another illegitimate child a year or so later. That’s Mary Anne. She was his sister. And another child a couple of years later. The other information I have is from a report of the arrest of a drunken woman called Susan Jones, aged twenty, who was then put into the workhouse with her child – no name given. I think this may be Susan, although I can’t say for certain. But I found a record of another Susan Jones who died a few years later. Dead in a field, inebriation. She was a well-known vagrant who had been arrested several times. And there’s no mention of the last child. Disappeared without a trace. Probably traceable, but I haven’t done it.”
“Three in four years,” Maggie mused. “And with a bad reputation. Definitely not something he would have wanted anyone to know about. I wonder if he ever acknowledged her or had anything to do with her”
She was quiet for a few minutes, holding her cup to her lips but not drinking. Nick and Zelah didn’t interrupt.
“Well,” Maggie said at last. “That’s it, then. The end, for now. I can fill in that piece of the puzzle but then the story’s over, for a while.” She turned to Zelah. “Zelah, thank you. I’m so grateful to you, I can’t say. To both of you, for what you’ve done for me in the past weeks.”
Her voice broke for a moment, but she squeezed her fists together and sat up. “I’m afraid,” she paused to yawn, “that we’ll have to end this evening so
on. I have to go to a meeting in the morning and I need to prepare. I haven’t done anything professional for a long time!” Her tone was light, but the rueful expression on her face told a different story.
“Well, actually, you don’t,” said Zelah.
Seventy Seven
Maggie turned to look at Zelah who was looking at her guiltily.
“If you’re going to say anything about money, don’t go there!” Maggie began.
“It’s nothing like that!” Zelah raised her voice to the point of shouting and Maggie sat back in her chair. “Just be quiet and let me explain. And don’t interrupt. I need to get through this in one go before you say anything.”
“OK,” Maggie agreed, nodding. She was exhausted, but she knew that Zelah did have a sensitive side. She wouldn’t be insisting on saying whatever she was going to say in the face of Maggie’s obvious wish for them to go, if it wasn’t important.
“This whole experience with your family has been fascinating. I’ve heard about these phenomena before, and you know that I believed you one hundred percent, right from the start. But I’d never experienced something like this first hand. So I kept detailed notes. And I,” She swallowed. “I put them on a website.” She saw Maggie’s expression of incredulity and rushed on, her hands moving more quickly now as she spoke.
“Not just any website. I’ve set a new one up. It’s called ‘Maze Investigations’. Stupid name, I know, but I couldn’t think of anything better. It’s not just a website either. I’ve set up a company under the same name. I’ve been telling the story in instalments. We’ve had thousands of hits from all over the world.”
Maggie was stunned. “You’ve been telling my story, to the whole world, without saying a word to me?”
“Yes,” Zelah replied. “Hold on a moment.” As she had been speaking, her bird-like animation had caused a pin to fall from her hair and a long strand had come down. Nick had the pin in his hand, but held onto it, despite Zelah putting out her hand to take it off him.