turning the volume up high enough to shake a man’s fillings out five miles away.
It was far too loud for him to hear Glenn Branson’s shouts and curses as he drove away.
108
There was a brown envelope lying on Roy Grace’s desk when he walked in, just before seven, with an explanatory note from Bella Moy taped on top, stating these were the certificates for Brian Bishop he had requested. She had also written down the name and contact details of a post-adoption counsellor who, she said, had previously helped the local police through the obstacle course of finding out information on adopted people.
Inside were two creased, oblong documents, about six inches high and a foot wide. They were on yellowing paper with red printing, and handwritten details inserted in black fountain pen ink. He unfolded the first one. It was headed: Certified Copy of an Entry of Birth. Under that were a series of columns.
Then, in a space at the extreme right, was written
Grace then unfolded the second document. It was headed: Certified Copy of an Entry in the Records of the General Register Office. At the very bottom of the document were the words, Certified Copy of an Entry in the Adopted Children Register.
Then he read along the columns.
He read both documents through again carefully, absorbing the details. Then he looked at his watch. It was too early to call the post-adoption counsellor, so he decided he would do it straight after the eight-thirty briefing.
‘Loretta Leberknight,’ she answered in a warm, gravelly voice.
Grace introduced himself and explained briefly what he was looking for.
‘You want to try to find out if this Brian Bishop has a twin?’
‘Exactly,’ he replied.
‘OK, what information do you have on him?’
‘I have his birth certificate and what appears to be an adoption certificate.’
‘Is it a long birth certificate or a short one?’
Grace described it to her.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘It’s the long one – more information on it. Now, there’s usually one sure way to tell – if the birth is in England and Wales. Is it?’
‘Yes, he was born in Brighton.’
‘Can you read out to me what it says under
Grace obliged.
‘It says,
‘Yes.’
‘And the place of birth is given as where?’ she asked, checking again.
‘Brighton. The Royal Sussex County Hospital.’
‘You have the information right there!’ She sounded pleased.
‘I do.’