We set off with Ajay behind us and rang the first door bell. A middle-aged lady came to the door. The moment she saw Ajay and the camera, she closed the door. ‘Excuse me, madam, we’re looking for someone who used to live on the street,’ Sara called through the door.
‘Why the camera?’ she called back.
‘We’re making a TV programme about looking for lost friends,’ Ajay replied.
She opened the door again but looked at us suspiciously.
‘I am sorry to intrude,’ said Sara. ‘We’re looking to find the Blake family, who used to live at number thirty-six back in the 1960s and 70s.’
‘I’ve only been here three years. You want number forty-three. Eric Simmons. He’s been here all his life.’ She put her hands to her hair to tidy it then smiled at Ajay. ‘So will I be on the telly then?’
‘Yes, madam. You will.’
We went back onto the pavement, crossed the road and found number forty-three. I went and knocked on the door but there was no reply.
‘Let’s try next door,’ said Sara, who marched over there and rang the bell.
The door was opened by a teenager, who went pink as soon as she saw the camera and Sara. ‘Oh my god, like, oh my god, you’re that woman off the telly? Am I on the telly? Have we won something? Mam, mam, the telly’s here. We’re on the telly.’
‘We’re just looking for someone who used to live on this street. Blake family,’ I said.
‘Mam, mam, do you know the Blake family?’ the girl called back and looked around the street. ‘Are we on Michael McIntyre? Where is he? I love his Midnight Gameshow.’
An older blonde woman came out from the back of the house. ‘Do we get paid?’
‘No,’ said Sara. ‘We’re just trying to find someone. We only want to know if you remember the Blake family who used to live at number thirty six.’
‘Can’t say I do. Eric. Number forty-three. He’s lived here the longest.’
Just at that moment, a car drew up outside the house she was pointing at and an elderly gentleman got out.
I went rushing over. ‘Excuse me. Are you Eric Simmons?’
‘Who wants to know?’
I gestured to Ally, Ajay and Sara. ‘We’re making a programme, searching for an old friend, Mitch Blake, her family used to live at—’
‘Number thirty-six. Left years ago.’
‘Do you know where they went?’
‘Young ’uns went to London, Fiona and Michelle.’
‘That’s right. And her parents?’
‘Claire and Howard. Moved away some time in the 1970s. Went to New Zealand. Claire had a sister out there. Howard died not long after they moved, don’t remember the year.’
‘Do you know if Mrs Blake, Claire, is still out there?’
‘You need to ask Eileen Morrison at number fifty-nine. She’s a cousin or some relative. She might know.’
‘Have Fiona or Michelle ever been back?’
‘I’ve never seen either of them. Ask Eileen.’
I thanked Eric, then trooped over to number fifty-nine. A lady with a tight perm and sour expression opened the door. ‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Sara and indicated Ajay behind us. ‘We’re making a film about tracing old friends. I went to school with Michelle Blake. Eric at number forty-three, said you might be related to the family.’
‘That’s right. Third cousin. Is it for Who Do You Think You Are? I like that. I’ve watched all of them. The one with Danny Dyer was my favourite. He’s royalty, you know.’
‘Er no, we’re not that programme. Ours is about tracking down old friends.’
‘Do they owe you money? That’s why most people come looking for people they haven’t seen in ages.’
‘No. They don’t owe me money. I’m just trying to find my old friend.’
‘Mitch owes me a tenner,’ I said. ‘I’ve been waiting all these years.’
Ally shushed me.
‘Blake family?’ Sara persisted.
‘They went a long time ago.’
‘Might you have an address? Eric said that Mitch’s parents went to New Zealand.’
‘We weren’t close and we’re a big family. Catholics. I can’t say I know half the cousins, only the local ones. As I say, Claire and Howard moved a long time ago. New Zealand. He died not soon after …’
‘Did Claire stay over there?’ I asked.
‘She did that. Anyroad, I never saw her again.’
‘And the daughters? Michelle and Fiona?’
‘No idea, though that younger one was in trouble last I saw.’
‘What kind of trouble?’ I asked.
‘Not for me to say but … she was well down the wrong road and only nineteen.’
‘Wrong road?’
‘No father.’
‘What do you mean no father? Mitch did have a father, you just told me he went to New Zealand.’
‘Not Michelle’s father, he was Howard. No, the father of her child.’
‘Child? At nineteen. Mitch didn’t have a child then.’
‘Well then, maybe something happened. I don’t know. She left for London and wasn’t seen again up this way, ’s’all I know.’
‘And you think she was pregnant?’
‘All very hush-hush but of course, I’m family.’
The three of us looked at each other.
‘Are you in touch with anyone who might know where Mitch is?’
Eileen pursed her lips and folded her arms. ‘Nope.’
Sara gave her a business card. ‘Well, if you do remember anything, please could you give me a ring?’
‘Right,’ she said, and closed the door.
We went back to join Ajay and Ally who were at the gate. ‘Not much luck but … She seemed to be saying that Mitch was pregnant when she was nineteen …’
‘No way,’ said Ally. ‘We’d have known.’
‘Would we?’ I asked. I glanced back at the house. ‘Course we would. I reckon that old bird must have got her wires crossed. We met up in the summer holidays after our first year at college. Don’t you remember? She did seem a bit lost and unsure of what to do …’
‘I do remember,’ said Sara. ‘She’d put off going back to college again.’
‘Maybe she lost the baby?’ said Ally. ‘A miscarriage? Abortion? If she’d had a child, she’d have told us.’
‘When exactly did she join the Rainbow Children? I wish I could remember,’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t have been able to go into the commune with
