Page 65

Chapter 65

July 2011

The lettering on the last box is clear.

GEORGIA

There are school jotters marked ‘History’ and ‘Mathematics’, English essays, sports day awards, and two school ties.

And there is a file containing birth and marriage and death certificates, including one for a Louise Black in 1909.

Georgia opens one of many school reports at random and reads it out loud.

‘“Georgia is a most interesting and talented young lady.”’ She laughs.

‘I am quite sure that “interesting” wasn’t meant as a compliment.

’

‘What else is there?’

‘More letters, some postcards. It’s all a bit of a jumble.

’

‘Who died first?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Who went first, Keith or Annie?’

‘Annie, in 1964. And she couldn’t have got the boxes into the attic, so Keith is the person who put all this up there.

I was away for a few days and when I came home, he had already done it.

A bit like when he did the kitchen upgrade without telling Annie what his plans were.

’

‘Was he, I don’t know .

.?. tidying up? Putting papers away that perhaps you might not feel able to look at after he was gone.

’

‘Maybe.’

‘I mean, he didn’t destroy anything.

It’s as though he was putting it all away safely so the boxes would be there for you when you were ready for them.

’

‘Possibly. Keith was like that. He had a knack for understanding what you needed before you knew it yourself.’ Georgia reaches across the table for a tissue and wipes away the tears that have suddenly arrived.

‘He missed Annie dreadfully. He died in his sleep a couple of months after she did.’ She blows her nose and straightens herself up.

‘Better get on. If we stop now, we’ll never get started again.

’ She takes a deep breath.

‘Perhaps this box is a bit of a muddle because Annie wasn’t there to tell Keith what was important.

There are holiday postcards from the seaside and bills for coal and old Christmas cards all mixed up together.

’

‘You could be right. Is there anything that stands out?’

Georgia rifles through a few papers.

‘Not really.’

‘May I?’

‘Be my guest. Fresh eyes and all that.’ Georgia sits down, lost in thought.

Tess goes through every item methodically, dividing them into official documents, more and more school papers, and general bills.

By the time she is finished there are two items left.

‘I think that’s everything, apart from these.

’

‘Alright, let’s see what you’ve discovered.

’

‘There’s another letter.

And there’s a jewellery box, but it’s locked and I think it’s empty.

It doesn’t rattle or anything.

’

‘Let’s look at the letter, then.

Off you go, Lewis, do the honours.

’

Tess takes a single sheet of paper from a small envelope and starts to read.

9th October 1931

Dear Miss Black,

I am writing to you today to very belatedly express my condolences on the loss of your father and Mrs Black, and of your brother Finlay.

I need to give you what may or may not be welcome information.

I am aware that what I am about to say may cause either acute distress or joy, and if it is the former, please allow me to apologise in advance.

My name is Beatrice Sidcup.

I am writing to introduce you to Olivia, my daughter.

She is seventeen years of age now, and a hardworking, bright young woman.

She is also your late brother’s daughter.

Tess keeps reading, unaware of Georgia’s reaction.

I am sure that you will have many questions, and I look forward to having the opportunity to explain further.

I would like you to meet Olivia, but would prefer to see you privately first to discuss the rather sensitive circumstances of this revelation.

Please be assured that I would not be contacting you after seventeen years if it were not absolutely essential.

If I might be so bold, this is a matter of some urgency, for reasons I will explain in person.

I will call on Friday at three o’clock.

Yours sincerely,

Beatrice Sidcup (Mrs)

‘This sounds important.’ Tess looks up to find Georgia lost in thought, staring out of the window right up to the far end of the garden where the fruit on the plum tree is starting to ripen.

She waits until Georgia has gathered herself back together and hands her the letter carefully, worried she might drop it.

‘Olivia was my mother,’ Georgia says quietly.

All trace of yesterday’s furious indignation about a strawberry tea has gone.

She pauses as she attempts to make sense of the details.

‘She was a lodger in this house, just like you. She met my father at university here in Edinburgh and they lived here too. They were mathematicians, and they worked for some important government department in London during the Second World War. I was just a toddler then, and I stayed here with Annie and Keith because it meant my parents could both contribute to the war effort.’ She unfolds the letter.

‘I have no memory of them at all. Of course, there are photographs. But I can’t remember them ever kissing me goodnight, or reading me a story, nothing like that.

They were killed in the Blitz.

’ Georgia sighs. ‘In the Primary One school report I looked at this morning, the teacher describes me as “strong”, but I don’t think I was.

Keith and Annie looked after me, and I was never allowed to think I wasn’t loved.

Not for a minute.’

Georgia reads Beatrice Sidcup’s letter from start to finish for herself, then reads it again.

Tess tries to pull the threads together.

‘So, Finlay is .?.?.’

‘Finlay is my grandfather,’ says Georgia softly.

She walks over to the dresser and picks up the photograph of the young man in his soldier’s uniform.

‘Finlay Black is my grandfather, and I do belong in this house after all.’