JULIE:
Well, my trip to Bristol was a bust; while Mark worked, I wearily trudged the streets in the rain and snow… actually, it was mid-summer and I went everywhere by cab, but the net result was ‘almost’; that was as good as it got; ‘almost’.
The people at Southmead Hospital had been very helpful; once I’d proven to them that the person I was trying to track, given names Sandra Lois *unknown*, was in fact dead, and I had a copy of the Death Certificate to back up my claim, they’d gone and had a rummage through their records archive and found the record; same first names, same date of birth, it all matched. Mum was born Sandra Lois Fraser, and the family had lived in Clifton; there was even an address.
Armed with that, I went back to the council offices, and had a look through the Census returns for the Fraser family at that address, and that’s where I finally struck gold; mum had been one of four children; she had an older brother, Robert, an older sister, Emma, and a younger sister, Ellen.
I found the address in Clifton; of course, it had to be around the corner from the hotel where we were staying, and two minute’s walk from Mark’s office; I’d gone chasing off into the furthest, remotest reaches of Bristol, and all the time the place I wanted was spitting distance from my hotel room; it’s the story of my life, really…
I’d gone to the address, a large, elegant Georgian townhouse in the middle of a long terrace in the Regency part of Clifton. The lady who answered was very nice, but wasn’t a family member; all she knew was that her parents had bought the house from the Fraser family after the death of the parents, she didn’t have any forwarding addresses for the children; her parents might have done, but they’d passed on several years before.
She’d suggested the family a few doors down might know, they’d been there donkey’s years, so I tried there, but there was no answer. I peered in the window, into a rather elegant sitting room; clearly a family with young children lived there; baby toys were scattered on the chairs and on the carpet, and a baby-bouncer was tucked in the corner. The name on the doorbell was ‘Morgan’, but repeated ringing brought no response.
So that avenue was a dead-end. I went down to the Council House on College Green and requested the Electoral Roll, hoping I might spot a Fraser family member, but that was a forlorn hope; the sisters would most likely have married, and with the best will in the world I couldn’t possible divine their married names.
There were several dozen Frasers, including a few Robert Fraser’s listed, but all the wrong age entirely, scattered all over Bristol, and I had neither the time, resources, or patience to go knocking on all their doors in the hope I might strike it lucky.
There was one odd incident, however; I was walking back to the hotel, and decided on a whim to go and have a wander through the lovely medieval cathedral on the South side of College Green, so cut across the Green and walked past the Marriott Hotel, which was next to the cathedral. A man in a chef’s whites was talking with a delivery van driver on the pavement. As I passed him, our eyes met. He stared at me like he’d seen a ghost, and I distinctly heard him breathe “Emma!”, then I lost sight of him as a crowd of Cathedral Choir School boys surged past me, all of them much taller than me, completely blocking my view of the chef as they hurried back into the school precincts before the end of their lunch break.
I darted back to the front of the hotel, sure I’d almost caught a break, but he was gone; he’d called me ‘Emma’, and I knew that name; Emma Fraser, my mother’s older sister, my aunt…
I gave up in disgust; I’d tried; Lord knows, I’d given it the old college try, and come up zero, except for an ‘almost’; perhaps there really was nothing here. Wherever mum’s family had lived, they weren’t there now, and no-one knew of their whereabouts, so time to call it a day and quit bending Mark’s ear about it.
It was sad and deflating; I’d built up quite the fantasy, of a family who knew nothing about us, but welcomed their long-lost relatives with open arms; letting that go was a wrench, but it was nothing but fantasy, after all, just me trying to make a passing fancy real.
When we got back home, Mark was especially solicitous; he knew I’d built this up in my head into the grand family reunion, and now it wasn’t going to happen, so for the next few days he spent every spare moment hugging me and nibbling my ears and neck, something he knows I love, as I worked my way through the disappointment, although I was puzzled why I felt so let-down; as Mark had pointed out, we had a place we belonged, with family who loved and cared about us.
I suppose ultimately I needed to know there was someone else out there who shared actual kinship with us, that we weren’t the only members of our entire family, whoever they might be.
But I had to let it go; mum’s family, whoever and wherever they were, were untraceable, probably long gone, and we were the last of the Fraser clan left for all I knew. So I let it go, and consoled myself with the thought that Mark was right; we had family enough right here, people we loved, and who loved us right back, and that, apart from that tiny nugget of disappointment inside me, was enough for me; it had to be.
And then things started to happen…
A few days after my Bristol trip, Mummy-Anh came to see me, to take the children out for a walk, then back to her place for some quality time with her and Dada Morrison, or so she claimed, but I could tell she had something on her mind, and after cooing and cuddling Nia, and tickling and kissing Markie soundly, she put them down and rubbed their tummies and murmured softly to them until they both fell asleep, which I thought was odd, if she was going to take them out.
Once the kids were asleep, she beckoned me into the dining room, leaving the door open so she could see the babies asleep on the couch, and sat me down at the table.
“Julie, what you know about family, your family, not ac ngu ngoc me, not stupid, evil mother, what you know about rest of family?”
I looked at her in surprise, wondering where this had come from. She knew I’d tried to find them in Bristol, that there was nothing to find, so why the questions? I told her what I knew, that mum had three siblings, an older brother and sister, and a younger sister, but there was nothing else, no clue where they were.
Mum looked thoughtful, her fingertips drumming softly on the table, her one sign of agitation, then she came to some kind of decision, her face carefully expressionless.
“Julie, you know I love you, yes? I love you, and Mark, you are my children, just like Jamie and Nia, your family my family, your children my babies too, and all I want is for you be happy. While you away, man come and see me; he tell me some things, and lady with him tell me more. He ask about you. He tell me his father name is Robert, and lady with him Emma; they say they your family; this mean anything to you?”
My heart slammed in my chest at hearing that; Robert and Emma, mum’s brother and sister, Emma Fraser, she’d been here, oh my God, she’d been here! Questions bubbled up inside me, foremost being why she’d waited to tell me. I managed to ask her, and she looked sad, but resolute.
“I want to call you, tell you, but Nia say no; Nia tell me you family hurt you so much, we not know if they hurt you more, so Nia say we wait until we know more. I cannot do that; Nia your sister, she love you like sister, and she protect you, like sister should, but she wrong, this not her decision, so I tell you, let you make up mind for self. I have telephone number, have name, if you want, I give them to you, and when you decide, I be there with you; you my daughter, I will not let you be alone now!”
My head was spinning; my family had come looking for me? Who were these people, and why now, after all these years? Mummy-Anh slid closer and hugged me.
“Lady who come, she tell me she has been looking for you for many year; you were baby last time she see you; she try and take you away from you mother, she know what mother like, she try and take you and Mark, but not succeed; next time she come back, sister gone, you gone, all gone, she cannot find you, not know where family gone, she not know where to look; London big place, maybe you not even here. She look like you mother, but nice, have good smile, and your eyes; man with her, he have your eyes too, he look so much like Mark I know he your family. He have friends at hospital, follow trail after you mother hurt you. I have good feeling about them; I think they look for you because you their family, not because they want hurt you, so I come here today to tell you!”