‘I found thison the shelf,’ Soraya said, handing him a hardback book. Morton read thetitle and his heart rate began a new, thumping rhythm. All AboutSedlescombe. ‘Look inside.’
Morton openedthe book and withdrew a fragile letter with a photograph attached by a rustypaperclip. He instantly recognised the crudely cut headshot as being thewoman holding James Coldrick as a baby. Even though he guessed thatSoraya had already read the letter, he felt compelled to read it aloud.
‘Fifth of June1944. My Dear Baby, I am placed in an abominable situation and one whichI prayed would never occur. The war has taken many deviations and wroughtmuch destruction but nothing to what I fear will happen to you, my preciousboy, whom I have loved more than any other. There is so much to say andyet so little time; I pray that you will be spared any involvement in theinjustices of this war and that you may live a quiet, protected life whenjustice, peace and all that makes life sweet will reign over the earth. Your ever loving mother, M.’
‘So that’sFin’s great grandmother writing that?’ Soraya asked, leaning over to getanother look at the letter.
‘That’s the wayit looks,’ Morton said. He remembered his analysis of the photograph ofJames as a baby. The letter added weight to his belief that JamesColdrick was born sometime in April or May 1944, not June. He re-read theletter and spoke out loud those parts that most troubled him. ‘…what Ifear will happen to you… so much to say and yet so little time…’ He lookedacross at Soraya. ‘Does it sound to you like a goodbye letter?’ Shenodded in doleful agreement. Morton looked back at the decapitatedphoto. A body-less arm to her left suggested at least one other personwas present at the time the picture was taken. He looked at thesignature, M.
‘History isn’tmy best subject; do you know what was going on in the war at that point thatmight mean she has to leave him?’ Soraya asked.
‘Well, D-Dayhad just started over the Channel, but there wasn’t much going on locally to myknowledge. I think the air raids had all but ceased and the doodlebugshadn’t yet started…’ Morton shrugged, having nothing to suggest that madeany kind of sense.
‘Well, I thinkJames certainly lived a quiet and protected life but I’m not sure about justiceand peace.’
‘Maybe theprice of peace was that he lived a quiet life and didn’t ask questions – unlikePeter.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Where was thebook?’ he asked.
Soraya tappedon the top shelf of the nearest bookcase. ‘Right here. Under ournoses.’ Morton looked at the shelf where her hand rested – right on topof Tracing Your Family Tree – then down at the bold title on the bindingof All About Sedlescombe. He was as sure as he could be that thebook was not there on Tuesday when he visited the house, as the row of books towhich Soraya referred - Ancestral Trails: The Complete Guide to BritishGenealogy and Family History, Tracing Your Family Tree, Explore YourFamily’s Past, From Family Tree to Family History – had been a topic ofdiscussion between him and Peter.
‘I’m sure thatwasn’t here on Tuesday,’ he said to Soraya.
‘How can you besure?’ she asked.
‘Peter and Iwere discussing all the avenues he had explored to research his family tree andthe books came up. I would have noticed that book.’
Soraya shruggeddismissively. ‘Maybe the police moved things around during theirinvestigations?’
‘Maybe. Anyway, look what I found upstairs,’ he answered, holding up the copper box.
Soraya took theobject and turned it over in her hands, not quite sure what she was supposed tobe looking at.
‘Petermentioned it to me in a phone message - it belonged to his dad.’
‘Oh,right. Does it help?’
Mortonshrugged. ‘Maybe. I was really hoping to find something inside thebox but maybe it was the box itself that Peter wanted to show me. The coat ofarms could be a lead. Heraldry isn’t my forte so I’ll have to get itchecked out.’
Sorayahalf-heartedly pulled open another drawer. ‘I can’t find anything abouthis wishes,’ she said, making ‘wishes’ sound like a demand. ‘Imean, who the hell do I get to take the ceremony? He never went to churchso far as I’m aware – does that make him a humanist or just a lazyChristian? I’ve got no idea.’ Soraya looked at Morton for help, buthe had no idea either. Six weeks of the Tenterden Times revealedan alarming trend in modern funerals – for young people at least – no blackclothes, a large photo of the deceased on an easel by the coffin, Angels and/orI’ll be Missing You (the Puff Daddy and Faith Evans version – neverthe Police version), a mixture of friends' tributes and the odd religiouspassage followed by a burial in a football shirt. Not really somethingMorton could suggest for Coldrick.
‘Just get aChurch of England minister and keep it simple,’ he suggested.
‘Hmmm.’
Other familymembers would be the obvious next step but Morton knew that was a blindalley. ‘Any friends?’ he suggested tentatively, knowing the answer beforeSoraya answered.
‘Not really…’Her voice trailed off, leaving the silence to finish the sentence.
‘Are you goingto let Fin go to the funeral?’
Soraya looked dumbstruck,as if this was the first time she had even considered it. The bloodappeared to drain from her face as she weighed the prospect of hereight-year-old son attending his father’s funeral. She shrugged andturned her back to him, retuning her focus to the stack of paperwork in thebureau behind her. Her rummaging became more frantic until a huge pile ofpapers fell to the floor. ‘You know what, I can’t do this. You’reright, just keep the funeral simple. If he wanted a special all-singing,all-dancing service then he should bloody well have told someone.’ She burstinto tears and Morton now felt comfortable in pulling her into anembrace. Soraya clung to him, sobbing gently on his shoulder. ‘Ijust want all this to be over.’ She released her hold and took a deepbreath. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ hereassured. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s nothing more
