‘Just look at his signature,’ Mortonreplied.
‘Right.’
‘Now look at this,’ Morton said, bringingup the copy of Charles and Nellie’s 1912 marriage certificate. He zoomedinto the bottom of the page, where the bride, groom and witnesses had signedtheir names.
‘Yes,’ Margaret said, confusion in hervoice. ‘The same signatures. What about it?’
‘Now look at this,’ Morton said, clickingon the 1919 marriage certificate of Nellie to Leonard Sageman.
‘Oh!’ Margaret yelped. ‘GrandadLen’s signature’s changed completely.’
Morton turned to face her. ‘Yes, ithas. And you see the fancy letter h in Charles’s name?’
‘Yes.’
‘Look at this.’ Morton brought upthe photo that he had taken of the March 1915 postcard Leonard had sent toNellie. He moved the cursor to the word fighting.
‘It’s the same fancy h!’ Margaretexclaimed. ‘But how can that be? Surely you’re not saying thatthey’re the same person?’
Morton shook his head. ‘No,definitely two separate people—they enlisted together in 1910, remember. Oneof them died on 26th December 1914 and the other was taken as aprisoner of war.’
‘Sorry, I’m totally lost.’
‘I think Len was killed on the 26thDecember and, for some reason, Charles took his identity and was then takenprisoner of war.’
‘Why would he do that?’ she askedincredulously. ‘To put poor Nellie through all that grief?’
Morton shrugged. ‘She must haveknown fairly soon after being told that Charles was dead that he wasn’t atall. Those postcards you’ve got, supposedly written by Len are clearlyfrom Charles—she would have spotted that straight away. He hasn’t reallymade much effort to disguise his handwriting, has he?’
‘My goodness,’ Margaret said, sittingbeside Morton. ‘What a shock! Are you really sure about all this?’
‘There’s more evidence, yet.’
‘Oh, golly—go on.’
Morton pulled up the scratched, sepiaportrait of Leonard Sageman in his military uniform taken in August 1914. Beside it, he placed the physical description of Leonard on his militaryenlistment form.
‘Complexion, fresh. Eyes,blue. Hair, blond. It doesn’t match the photo.’
‘Now compare it to Charles’s appearance.’
‘Complexion, fresh. Eyes,brown. Hair, light brown,’ Margaret read. ‘It’s him!’
‘Yes. That’s your grandfather,Charles Ernest Farrier. I think his name was written on the reverse ofthe postcard, but it was obliterated, leaving just the date.’
Margaret shook her headdisbelievingly. ‘But why ever would he do that?’
‘I think there are clues in the twopostcards that he sent Nellie. In the first one he mentions insurance andher getting his will. It could have been purely for financialreasons. Charles’s early life was blighted with poverty and I guess hesaw a way out.’ Morton shrugged. ‘Well, it worked, didn’t it? She bought a house way away from their old life in Eastbourne where nobodywould recognise them, then they remarried by licence, so no banns were calledto alert anybody.’
‘My goodness,’ Margaret repeated.
‘When I first saw Leonard and Nellie’smarriage certificate, I spotted that their witnesses were married on the sameday. I’ve got a feeling that Nellie and Leonard—Charles—justgrabbed the nearest two people to witness the service. Two unknowns whowouldn’t question it.’
‘Golly, no wonder there are no pictures oranything belonging to Charles. That would have given the game away,wouldn’t it! But that means that their other child, Alex is actually aFarrier and not a Sageman!’ Margaret declared.
‘Yep. Just to make the Farrier treeeven more complicated.’
Margaret laughed. ‘Isn’t it just.’
‘Did Alex have any children?’
‘Yes, he had three sons. I don’tknow much more about what happened to them. As you know, my dad was a bitof a miserable character and once we moved to Folkestone, he didn’t see much ofhis half-brother—or full brother as we now know him to have been.’
‘It would be good to try and make contactwith them; tell them all we’ve discovered,’ Morton said.
‘I’m not sure anyone would believe it,though! Can you find them?’
Morton nodded. ‘Shouldn’t be tootricky. There are various ways of doing it—through birth, marriage anddeath records, then using an electoral register search. First, though,I’d like to try a website called Lost Cousins. It’s a greatwebsite that kind of does what it says on the tin. You put your familydetails in and make contact with distant relatives. I’ve used it beforefor clients on genealogical cases but have never actually inputted my ownfamily.’
‘Get on with it then! I’ll go andmake us a coffee.’
Morton opened up a new browser andnavigated to the Lost Cousins website. It felt strange butexciting to create his own account, in his own name. The first step wasto add known relatives into the My Ancestors page, using a variety ofcensuses as a guide to ensuring a correct match with living relatives. Morton selected the 1911 English and Welsh census and, using the relevant pieceand schedule number, inputted Charles Ernest Farrier’s name and age. Onceadded, Morton clicked search.
No matches.
Morton returned to the My Ancestors pageand inputted Nellie Ellingham’s name and age. He hit the search buttonand waited.
1 new match found. Please check yourMy Cousins page.
Morton held his breath as he clicked thelink. He was presented with the initials—AS, country of residence of thematch—UK and connection—Nellie Ellingham. Beside the entry was a link—makeconnection. Morton hovered his cursor over the word, brieflyconsidering the implications of what he was about to do, then clicked it. Onscreen appeared the words Request sent 25th December2014. Now he just needed to sit and wait. He made up his mindwhen he got home to work on the Farrier family tree and add the rest of thefamily into the website, hopefully being able to make contact with other livingrelatives. One day he might even get to add his own father’s family.
‘Coffee!’ Margaret announced, noisilysetting a cup on the table beside his laptop. ‘Do you know, I can’t stopthinking about Grandad Farrier and Grandad Len—it’s so bizarre. I’m itching to hear what happened on the 26th!’
‘Shall I read it now?’
‘No! Be strong!’ Margaret rebukedwith a smirk. ‘Any other new developments?’
Morton smiled. ‘Well, there issomeone on Lost Cousins who is descended from Nellie. Their initialsare AS.’
‘Oh right, what happens now, then?’
‘Now we sit and wait for AS to log in totheir emails.’
‘Oh golly.’
‘Fancy a walk after the coffee?’ Mortonasked. ‘It’s been a bit of a heavy day, with one thing and another; Icould do with some fresh air.’
‘You go, I think you probably need a bitof time by yourself,’ Margaret
