The kiss lingered and he felt a stirring inside that he had not felt since his visit to England two years ago. He saw Margaret’s sweet face in the darkness of his closed eyes and pulled away. ‘Bye,’ he blurted, turning on his heels and heading back down the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
24th August 2016, Chatham, Massachusetts, USA
‘Can we just stay here forever? Would anyone really notice if we didn’t go home?’ Juliette asked with a yawn. She was lying in her bikini on Chatham Lighthouse Beach, a large floppy straw hat covering her face. The beach was packed with holidaymakers enjoying the cloudless sky.
Morton was sitting on his towel beside her with his shirt off, scooping up handfuls of hot sand and watching as it poured through the cracks between his fingers. He actually gave serious consideration to her question, imagining a new life in America. They would have to start all over again. He would have to establish himself here as a forensic genealogist. Back at home he had gained a reputation as someone who tackled complicated cases, which often brought him into contact with people on the wrong side of the law. Living here would certainly give him the one thing that he really needed right now: time. They had just three days left until they were due to fly from Boston to New York for the remainder of their honeymoon—the distinctly non-genealogical aspect. Then it was back to England. Back to a new genealogy case. ‘Maybe,’ he answered finally, with a large exhale.
‘Maybe what?’ Juliette muttered.
‘Maybe we could up sticks and move here.’
‘I was joking. Of course we can’t move here.’
He picked up today’s edition of the Cape Cod Times. His request—embellished and dramatised—had been published on page four under the melodramatic headline The Missing Man. The byline gave the writer’s name as Hal Adelman, who had taken it upon himself to rummage in the newspaper’s archives to include details of the original story that they had run back in December 1976. Hal had even included a photograph of the house on fire. Well, it would certainly get noticed more than the discreet couple of lines that he had been expecting to find. For the fourth or fifth time, Morton checked that the contact number in the story was correct. He pulled out his mobile phone to make sure that it was still switched on and not in silent mode, then he opened his bag and pulled out all the paperwork that he had generated during this trip so far. Once again, he went through the notes that he had made at his Aunt Alice’s house. Laura Chipman’s name was underlined.
He had spent a good deal of time trying to track down her whereabouts in Alberta, but still had no positive leads. He had tried various forms of social media and had sent several messages and emails to potential matches. But, as yet, nothing.
Turning to the next piece of research, he re-read the account of his grandfather’s act of heroism in Korea. He was thinking it increasingly likely that the war had indeed provided him with a moment of epiphany—some awakening inside of a desire to be with Velda Henderson and not his wife and child. But it just didn’t feel quite right. People abandoned their kids all the time, but Morton just couldn’t imagine it of the man that he had seen in the photo album at Alice’s house. He seemed so doting and caring of his two children. Maybe Morton struggled to imagine him abandoning his first child because he saw something of himself in his grandfather and it was an act completely unconscionable to him.
He scrutinised the date of the report of his grandfather’s wartime deeds: November 1st, 1950. Then, one month later he had filed for divorce. The baby, Florence, had been born in 1951. But when, exactly? Morton couldn’t find the answer amongst his paperwork. Logging into Ancestry on his mobile phone, he accessed the California Birth Index 1905-1995 and found the entry.
Name: Florence Jacklin
Birth Date: June 7, 1951
Gender: Female
Mother’s Maiden Name: Fuller
Birth County: San Francisco
Morton remembered what Alice had said about her father—that he had been one of the first volunteers to enlist to fight in Korea. When did the conflict begin, exactly? He ran a quick Google search: 25th June 1950. Meaning that Joseph Jacklin was out of the country from June until November of that year. An online calculator estimated Florence Jacklin’s conception to have been around the 14th September 1950.
‘Joseph wasn’t the father,’ Morton said.
‘What?’ Juliette asked.
‘The first baby—Florence—that might have been the reason he divorced Audrey. He returned home to find her pregnant and knew that there was no way the baby could be his. That would make your theory that he just upped and left his first wife and child behind much more plausible.’
‘Highly likely, if you ask me,’ Juliette commented from beneath her hat.
‘Right, that’s it,’ Morton said, jumping up. ‘Are you okay here, if I disappear off for a couple of hours?’
Juliette removed the hat from her face and frowned at him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To pay another visit to my Aunt Alice—she’s literally my only hope now. We leave in three days—and we know she knows more than she’s letting on.’
Juliette nodded her agreement. ‘Good idea—I’ll be fine here until sunset. No rush. Good luck.’
He kissed her on the lips and strode across the beach towards the car.
MacMillan Pier was once again heaving. One of the whale-watching fleet had evidently just returned, its passengers jostling along the wooden jetty. Morton felt like a helpless fish trying to swim against the current, as he pushed through the crowds to get to Alice’s Art.
The hut itself was swarming with prospective
