Chapter Thirty
Sara
Present day, February
Back at the hotel, I called Lauren at Little Dog Productions.
‘How’s the search through the missing person’s agencies going?’ I asked.
‘We’ve some news that might be a lead, we’re not sure yet. The agency focused on family trees made by people looking into their DNA and have come up with a name. A David McDonnell.’
‘Why might he be a lead?’
‘Often when people have their DNA tested, they also compile a family tree to which they can add other relatives they know about who have died or who haven’t had their DNA tested. The marvel of it all being on line now is that family links can easily be found. This David McDonnell was linked to the Blake family and the name Michelle Blake was on one of the family trees as a distant cousin. We have David’s number. I was going to call him but Gary said it should be you.’
‘OK. So what do you know?’
‘Only that he’s in Inverness. Will you call him?’
‘What, now?’
‘No time—’
‘Like the present. Yes. And say what?’
‘Ask if he knows anything.’
I took down the details then, when Lauren had hung up, I called the number she’d given me. The phone rang a couple of times, and then a male voice answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello. My name’s Sara Meyers and I’m looking for David McDonnell.’
‘This is he.’ He sounded elderly.
‘I got your name from a site where one can register to explore DNA …’
‘Oh yes, the Ancestry one?’
‘That’s it. I hope you don’t mind me calling.’
‘Speak up, lass; I’m hard of hearing. Is it Lisa again?’
‘Lisa? No. My name is Sara.’
‘Oh, right, Sara. How can I help?’
‘I’m looking for an old school friend called Michelle Blake and I believe you were related?’
‘Ah, I canna help you there, lass. I did discover that we were related somewhere down the line, but I didn’t know her or any of that clan. Lisa was looking for her, too.’
‘Lisa?’
‘Michelle’s daughter.’
‘Daughter?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t help her. I did the DNA test to see about my heritage, not to find anyone in particular like she did. She told me that she did the test in order to find her mother and my name came up as a distant relative. We’re fifth cousins or something.’
‘Daughter? Did you say daughter?’
‘Aye. Michelle Blake’s daughter.’
‘So why didn’t she know where her mother was?’
‘You tell me. I’ve no idea. People lose touch. I didn’t ask. I only told her that I hadn’t known the Blake family. It was a branch of the family that we up in Scotland never met.’
‘I don’t suppose you have any contact details for her.’
‘Now that I do. She asked me to take her email and number in case any other family members got in touch. None have – apart from Lisa. But you never know. The website for the DNA testing sends me names of distant relatives almost weekly, people all over the world. My son tells me it’s becoming more and more the thing to do and he’s been busy putting together the family tree which is where I believe he found the link to the Blake family. Just wait a moment and I’ll get the number for Lisa.’
I was stunned. David came back to the phone a moment later and gave me an email, a phone number and an address in Camden Town. I wrote them down in a daze. ‘Is there anything else you could tell me?’
‘I told Lisa all I knew. It was an interesting test. Tells you about genetic ethnicity. I always thought we were Scottish all the way back but it seems we’re a real mix.’
‘I mean about the Blake family. Michelle had a sister too.’
‘I know nothing about her. As I said, we’re a separate clan, her name might be on the family tree but Lisa would never have found me if I hadn’t been given the DNA kit for Christmas.’
‘Is there anything else you can tell me about Lisa?’
‘We had a good chat. She sounded a nice lass. She wanted to fly up and meet me but I said no point. I couldn’t help her find her mother. It would have been a wasted journey, but she seemed eager to meet any relative.’
‘Did she tell you anything about herself? Like how old she is?’
‘She’s in her forties, married, was a dancer before she had children, now she works as a … oh, what was it? My memory’s not what it used to be. Teacher, I think, or was it therapist? I can’t remember. You’ll have to ask her.’
‘In her forties?’ I sat down as the implications hit me. ‘Er … David, please can I leave my number with you in case anyone else gets in touch with you?’
‘Aye. I can add them to my collection,’ he said then chuckled. ‘My wife will be getting suspicious of me having my list of young ladies’ numbers to call.’
I gave him my number, hung up the phone and went straight to Ally’s room where she was having a cup of tea with Jo.
‘Seems Mitch had a daughter called Lisa,’ I said, and filled them in on my conversation with David. ‘I’ve got her email address.’
‘No! Wow,’ said Jo. ‘So she must know where Mitch is.’
‘Ah … not necessarily. It doesn’t sound like she does, anyway. She was trying to find her, that’s why she got in touch with David McDonnell.’
‘So what do you have?’ asked Ally.
‘Name and address. Lisa Wilson, about forty, lives in Camden Town. Oh my god, this is amazing. Remember when we went to Manchester and knocked on all the street doors, that distant relative we found, Eileen – she was going on about Mitch being pregnant. We thought she’d got her wires crossed, that it might have been Fi or someone else. Maybe she hadn’t been confused after all. Seems Mitch did have a child. Shall I go to the address? Or email? Or phone?’
‘I’d suggest email in the
