Morton and Juliette stood and followedMargaret towards the door as it swung open.
‘Ahoy, me old Sussex hearties!’ Jimexclaimed in his thick Cornish accent, stepping heavy boots into thelounge. He was a giant bear of a man—red ruddy complexion and tannedleathery skin, revealing a lifetime spent on fishing boats. He threw alarge meaty hand in Morton’s direction. ‘Nephew!’
Morton grinned. ‘Hi, UncleJim. This is Juliette.’
Jim offered his hand to her. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, young lady.’ He turned to faceMorton. ‘You kept this little treasure hidden nicely, didn’t you? She don’t look like a copper, does she?’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Juliettesaid with a laugh.
‘Well, just you keep on your bestbehaviour, James Daynes, and you’ll be alright.’
Jim peeled off a thick wax jacket. ‘Seriously, though, it’s lovely to have you both here. We’ve been lookingforward to it, haven’t we, Margaret?’
‘Absolutely. Well, all this sittingdown won’t do. I’d best get the dinner on. You two make yourselvesat home. Stick the television on if you fancy.’
‘Do you need a hand at all?’ Morton askedhopefully, wondering if she needed it to be just the two of them in order totalk candidly.
‘I can manage fine, thanks. You justrelax.’
Morton was disappointed, but sat back downand entered into conversation with his Uncle Jim, accepting that the matter wasnot about to be discussed.
Aftera full roast dinner had been devoured and cleaned up, Morton and Juliette satback in front of the fire with Margaret and Jim. The dinner tableconversation had danced and skirted neatly around the topic that Morton hadmost wanted to speak about, raising his fretfulness all the more.
Jim pressed the television remote controlexaggeratedly. ‘Christ, there’s nothing on. Christmas televisionused to be cracking, now it’s all a load of drivel and repeats. Twodocumentaries on at the same time about the bloody Christmas Truce of1914. Two! Bit heavy for my liking—not very Christmassy. Anyone want to watch either of them?’
‘I don’t mind what we watch,’ Julietteanswered diplomatically.
Margaret looked indifferent. ‘Mightsee Grandad Farrier or Grandad Len on there—they were both fighting in1914. God only knows if they had a truce or not. Probably not ifGrandad Farrier was like the other stubborn men in the family!’
Morton looked up as a wave of guiltflashed through his mind. How could a forensic genealogist know solittle—nothing in fact—of his own family history? Sincediscovering his bone fide connection to the Farrier family he had intended tobegin research but other paid cases kept taking precedence. He determinedthere and then to set aside some time next year to research his own familytree. Morton zoned back into the room. Juliette and Jim were in aconversation about Christmas television, so Morton turned to his AuntyMargaret. ‘Do you not know what happened to your grandfather in the war,then?’
Aunty Margaret turned her nose up. ‘Not much. It’s a bit of a mystery, really—no photos of him orinformation about him; it’s like he never existed. I mean, I do understandwhy he’s been forgotten: he died fairly early on in the war and my dad neverknew him—he was born around the same time his father was killed. Mygranny remarried after the war—a chap called Len who was a friend of GrandadFarrier’s. Lovely man, Len was, too. I’ve got a photo somewhere ofhim in his uniform and some old postcards and letters he sent back from aprisoner-of-war camp, but nothing from Grandad Farrier. Funnily enough,I’ve been thinking about him recently, what with all this hundred-yearanniversary stuff going on. Surely you can find out what happenedto him?’
‘Possibly,’ Morton said, running hisfingers through his hair. ‘The problem is that about sixty percent ofservice records for soldiers who served in World War One were destroyed in abombing raid in World War Two when the War Office was hit.’
‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ Aunty Margaretlamented. ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me a bit more aboutthem.’
Morton shot a look at Juliette.
‘Go and get it,’ she said with a sigh.
Morton grinned. He had promised herthat, despite bringing his laptop with him, he wouldn’t be working. Thisisn’t really work, though, he reasoned, it’s my family. Besideswhich, it might be just the hook that he needed to get his Aunty Margarettalking. ‘I’ll just fetch my laptop and see what I can find.’
‘Jolly good,’ Margaret said, rubbing herhands with excitement.
Moments later, Morton returned carryinghis Mac. He sat down beside Margaret and opened up a web browser.
‘All at the click of a button,’ Margaretmused, as she watched Morton tapping at the keyboard.
‘Not everything—but a lot,’ hereplied. ‘I realise this question is a little ironic coming from me, butwhat was your grandfather’s name?’
‘Charles Ernest Farrier,’ came the reply.
Charles Ernest Farrier. His great grandfather. Hesuddenly felt callous and somehow stupid for not even knowing his own greatgrandfather’s name.
With Margaret looking keenly over hisshoulder, Morton started with the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website,which listed all casualties of the First and Second World Wars. A momentlater, his great grandfather’s name, in bold capital letters headed the top ofthe screen. Below it, were the details pertaining to his death.
Rank: Private
Date of death: 26/12/14
Regiment/Service: Royal Sussex Regiment, 2nd Bn.
Awards: None
Panel Reference: Panel 20 and 21
Memorial: Le Touret Memorial
‘Gosh, he didn’t last long, did he? Poor chap,’ Margaret said. ‘Where’s Le Touret?’
‘Pas de Calais,’ Morton answered, tryingto assimilate the information in front of him. It was a strange hauntingfeeling for him to be looking at records for his own family. He had usedthe CWGC website countless times to help his clients find their lost ancestors,but here he was, looking at the death date of his own great grandfather. As he clicked to view the details of the cemetery in Le Touret, whichcommemorated more than 13,400 soldiers, he made his mind up to pay a visit tothe cemetery at some point in the future.
Morton pulled out his trusty notepad andpen from his laptop bag and jotted down the information onscreen. On thenext page he began to construct a basic tree for the Farrier family.
