The saying that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all went through my mind. Not true, I thought. To have loved someone that intensely and lose them forever would be unbearable. Was everything that had happened in the last few weeks as a result of my and Howard’s souls calling out to each other through ages of loneliness so that we could be together again? I had to believe that it was so.
Chapter Twenty-five
Tash called with the news. Dave’s uncle had found Katie.
Katie Barrow. Born Liverpool, 1880. Died Euston, London, 1900. German measles.
The details just as I’d recalled my session. He’d also found a Martha Barrow. Born 1898. Died 1898. Katie’s baby.
After my last session with Fiona, I’d had no doubt that they’d find Katie Barrow. But Tash confirming the details made it all seem very real.
‘Katie’s story is so sad,’ said Effy. ‘It sounds like the father of her baby abandoned her or wouldn’t own up to it. No wonder Henrietta didn’t want to go the same way as her friend.’
‘It would have been a scandal,’ said Tash. ‘The family that Henrietta worked for probably sent Howard away in the hope that he’d meet someone from his own class. Henrietta would have been considered beneath him.’
‘Hey. Henrietta is back as Jo and hopefully Howard’s around somewhere too,’ said Effy, ‘so why not Katie and the father of her baby as well? She could find him and give him a good slap!’
I laughed. ‘Maybe it’s a good job that people don’t remember their past lives.’
Effy nodded. ‘In one of the books I read about reincarnation, it said that when a person dies and a soul passes on, they are meant to forget their past life and start anew with a fresh slate. Sometimes though, something goes wrong with the passing over process which explains why some people have recall of their past life, like something didn’t get sealed off or some memory bank wasn’t emptied.’
‘Whatever the explanation, what now, Jo?’ asked Tash.
‘I have to see it through,’ I said. ‘One hundred per cent definitely. I now have no doubt at all that what Betty told me was true. I was Henrietta and I have to find Howard. Nothing must come between us this time.’
Effy shook her head. ‘I never ever thought I’d hear you say that.’
‘Never say never,’ I said.
Effy laughed.’I won’t.’
‘So do you think it’s Finn? Or Ben? Or even Owen?’ asked Tash.
‘Or someone I haven’t met yet. I don’t know. What if I don’t meet him until I’m thirty or forty or fifty?’
‘Did Betty not say?’ asked Effy.
‘No. Only that I must find him.’
‘I don’t think all this has come about now to lead nowhere or to make you wait ten years,’ said Tash.
‘Do you think everything that has happened has all been fate?’ I asked. ‘As if Betty being on the Heath that day set off a chain of events. If love is as predestined as that, it doesn’t leave much room for choice.’
‘I think you can choose in the end,’ said Tash. ‘These are different times to the Victorian age. Henrietta probably didn’t meet a lot of boys. You, on the other hand, go to a mixed school, will go on to university, then get a job. You’re going to meet lots of new people in this life, lots of new boys. You might even find Howard and decide you don’t want him this time around.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘There was such a powerful connection.’
‘In the meantime, Harry told us that whoever leaves flowers on the Watts grave will be back this Saturday,’ said Effy. ‘All we can do is follow each lead that we get, and that’s the next one.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. And see where that takes us if anywhere.’
On Saturday morning, I was up early again. Mum had already gone to do the early shift at the hospital and I was grateful that she wasn’t around to ask too many questions because I didn’t have any answers.
Harry wasn’t at the lodge when we got to the cemetery and the guide on duty didn’t seem to know much about the regulars who came to lay flowers.
‘So what do we do?’ asked Tash as we went back to the gate.
‘We wait,’ I said.
We might be here all day,’ said Tash.
‘I guess we just have to hope that whoever it is, is an early bird,’I replied.
A small crowd gathered for the ten o’clock tour but no-one was carrying flowers and they all looked liked tourists.
After they’d gone inside, a man in his forties appeared, carrying a bunch of carnations and roses. Although Harry had said that it was a lady who came to lay flowers, I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
‘Excuse me, but are you going to the Watts grave?’ I asked.
‘No I’m not,’ he said and gave me a look as if to say, mind your own business.
‘What are we going to say if it is the right person?’ I asked Effy as the man disappeared inside. ‘We’d better get our story straight or we might upset whoever it is. We can’t tell the truth as they’ll think we’re mad. And if we say we know the Watts family, they might ask how?’
We could say we’re distant relatives of Henrietta,’ Effy suggested, ‘and we knew that she’d worked as a governess and discovered who the family were from the census records.’
It sounded reasonable enough.
A lady in her twenties arrived next. She got out of a car further down the lane and walked towards us carrying a bunch of pink flowers. She had dark hair and I felt my pulse begin to race. Could this be the woman we wanted? Or was she too young?
This time, Effy approached her. ‘Excuse me but are you going to the Watts grave?’
She shook her head and looked more friendly than the man earlier. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Parkinson. My grandfather.’ She looked over at the gate. ‘It’s a fabulous place, isn’t it?’
Effy nodded as the lady walked on.
No-one came for another couple of hours apart from the groups of tourists arriving for the hourly tours. I was beginning to get bored and storm clouds were gathering. I felt bad for making Tash and Effy stand outside a cemetery all morning.
‘I’ll go and get some warm drinks to keep us going,’ I said.
Effy nodded. ‘Need chocolate too,’ she said.
I set off towards the village, but I hadn’t gone far when I spotted an elderly woman with white hair coming down the lane towards me. She was carrying a bunch of small white flowers. Could this be her? I thought as I turned back to join Tash and Effy.
As the woman got closer I realised that it was Mrs Rayner, the lady who volunteers at Mum’s hospital. She glanced over at us and her face lit up when she saw me. ‘Is that Jo?’ she asked and came towards us.
‘Hi, Mrs Rayner,’ I said. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Good, thanks.’ She looked at Tash and Effy. ‘What are you girls doing here? Have you done the tour?’
‘Yes, we have. It’s amazing in there,’ I said. ‘Um, these are my friends Tash and Effy.’
‘Hi,’ they chorused.
‘Are you going in?’ I asked.
Mrs Rayner indicated the flowers. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re not by any chance going to the Watts grave, are you?’ I asked.
Why yes. How did you know?’
I suddenly felt nervous and my well-concocted story deserted me. I so didn’t expect that the person we were waiting for would be someone I knew. ‘I, er . . .’
‘How did you know?’ she asked again, her grey eyes boring into me.
‘I, er . . . I knew Henrietta, well, not exactly knew her, knew of her.’
‘Henrietta? Who’s Henrietta?’ asked Mrs Rayner.
‘She was the Wattses’s governess.’
‘Governess? What are you talking about, Jo?’
‘Sorry Henrietta. She was governess to the Watts family at the turn of the nineteenth century... I think.’
Effy could see that I was struggling and took over. ‘I can explain,’ she said. �
�I realise that this must look strange but we’re not nutters. We’ve been doing some research into Jo’s family tree and found a lady called Henrietta. We found out on the census records that she was governess to the Watts family We visited the cemetery to find the Watts family grave, and Harry, who works at the front lodge, said that someone came and laid flowers on the grave on this date and a few weeks before every year.’
‘That’s right, I do.’ said Mrs Rayner. ‘On my father’s anniversary and then my grandmother’s.’
‘I’m sorry if it sounds mad but we were intrigued to find out who was leaving the flowers. We couldn’t help ourselves so came back to see if we could find out who it was and if, maybe, they knew anything about Henrietta,’ I said.
Mrs Rayner considered the story for a moment. ‘I see. So you’ve been researching a family tree. So this Henrietta, she was an aunt or grandmother?’
‘Great-great-aunt,’ I lied. ‘She never married.’
‘So what is it you wanted to know from me?’ asked Mrs Rayner.
‘If you might know anything about the family or Henrietta or Ho– or any of them,’ I said.
‘Yes I do,’ said Mrs Rayner. ‘Daniel Watts was my father.’
‘No way,’ I blurted.
‘I think I know who my father was,’ said Mrs Rayner with a smile. ‘My maiden name is Watts.’
‘There were two children, weren’t there?’ asked Effy. ‘In the Watts household?’
Mrs Rayner nodded. ‘Daniel and his brother Howard. How did you know?’
‘Er . . . We saw the inscriptions on the grave,’ said Effy. ‘I guessed that Howard might have been Daniel’s brother.’
‘From letters, diaries she left,’ Tash said at the same time as Effy.
‘How very interesting,’ said Mrs Rayner. ‘So what do you know about this Henrietta?’
‘Not much,’ I said. ‘We know that she was born in Manchester and that her father died when she was young. She worked in service and later became a governess. She would have looked after Daniel, your father, I think. She died at a young age.’
We’d love to find out more,’ said Effy.
Mrs Rayner considered what I’d said. ‘I may be able to help you there. I have my father’s photograph albums and I believe there are a few that are from that time. They’re mainly of family, but there were some of my father when he was very young with his brother Howard. If I remember rightly there’s a young lady there in a couple of them, dark-haired. I knew she wasn’t family and she looked too well turned out for a housemaid. I’ve always wondered who she was. She must have been your Henrietta.’
‘Ohmigod,’ I blurted. ‘Do you think we could come and see them?’ I clapped my hand over my mouth. ‘Sorry I mean, I’d . . . we’d quite understand ifyousayno.’
Mrs Rayner smiled. ‘Of course you can. I can see that this governess has captured your imaginations and . . . now she’s captured mine. You see, my father died many years ago and there was so much I wished I’d asked him about his life before he passed away but I do remember a little of what he said about his early youth. You’d be very welcome to come and see what I have.’
‘Can we come today?’ I asked.
Mrs Rayner smiled. ‘Why not? No time like the present,’ she said. ‘Wait for me here while I go and put the flowers on my father’s grave and I’ll take you back with me.’
As she went into the cemetery, I let out a long breath of air.
‘Amazing,’ said Effy.
‘I know,’ I said, ‘an incredible coincidence.’
‘Synchronicity,’ said Effy.
‘Which is?’ I asked.
‘It’s when there’s a connection between something going on outside and something happening inside you. It might look like coincidence or fate or destiny.’
‘So you’re saying this whole thing is fate?’
Effy nodded. ‘Your destiny making itself clear.’
‘But it isn’t, is it?’ said Tash. ‘I mean, if it was clear then it would be obvious who Jo should pick, but right now she doesn’t know. It could be Ben or Finn.’
‘Or Owen, don’t forget Owen,’ said Effy. ‘Often true love starts with friendship.’
Tash wrinkled up her nose. ‘I think it’s the other way around. I think there’s an almighty attraction and then friendship grows out of that.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Well that’s a lot of help. You two can’t agree on anything.’ I looked over in the direction of the cemetery. ‘Do you realise what we’ve found out today that Mrs Rayner is the daughter of the small boy I held in my arms in a previous life. And yet, here she is, loads older than me. She’s also Howard’s niece. How totally mad is that? Maybe she can tell us what happened to him. What he was like. And not only that, we’re going to get to see a photograph of them.’ I really hoped so because the image of Howard from my hypnotherapy session was fading and I was finding it hard to hang on to what he looked like. Other faces were taking precedence. Sometimes Finn’s, sometimes Ben’s and sometimes Owen’s.
I couldn’t wait until Mrs Rayner returned.
Chapter Twenty-six
We set off eagerly with Mrs Rayner, who had parked her car up the lane. Effy got into the front and chatted away to her while Tash and I sat in the back.
‘You OK, Jo?’ whispered Tash.
‘Oh yes. I can’t wait to see the photos. Like, if the consciousness, soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it, that’s inside of me is the same as was in Henrietta, then it would be the same with Howard and whoever he is now too.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Tash. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Mum always says that the eyes are the window of the soul. So maybe I’ll see something in the photographs of Howard, a spark or a spirit in his eyes that might help me recognise who he is today’
‘That would be so amazing,’ said Tash.
‘Exactly,’ I said.
Mrs Rayner drove up to the village, turned right down the High Street then left into one of the smaller roads. I knew Highgate well having lived nearby for most of my life but I’d never been down the maze of side streets here before. Like so many roads in the area, there were houses from different eras. Mrs Rayner drove into a cul-de-sac with a row of modern terraces on the right and properties dating back to Victorian and Edwardian times on the left.
She drove to the end of the road and parked. When we got out, I could see a tall wooden fence on the side with the old houses. In the middle of the fence was a tall gate with a rose arch over it. Number twenty-four.
‘Here we are,’ said Mrs Rayner as she unlatched the gate. ‘Come on in.’
We followed her through and I took a sharp intake of breath. I knew the house immediately. Detached, double-fronted, set back from the road with a large garden on three sides and a bay window to the right. It was the house from my dream and the house I’d seen in my regression. The house that Henrietta had lived and worked in.
Mrs Rayner and Effy went up the steps to the front door while I held back for a moment. I felt suddenly faint.
‘What is it, Jo?’ asked Tash. ‘You’ve gone pale.’
‘I know this place,’ I whispered. ‘But how? On the census, it said that the Watts family lived at Halville House, Trafalgar Road. We’d looked it up in the A-Z and couldn’t find it, remember?’ I looked around me as Mrs Rayner fumbled in her bag to find her keys up on the porch with Effy. ‘When I saw it in my regression, those houses at the bottom of the garden, over the fence, they weren’t there, and there were no houses opposite where that modern terrace is now. There was nothing but fields for miles and miles, but the house . . .’ There was no mistaking it despite the changes. ‘There was a wrought iron fence all around where the wooden fence is now and,’ I pointed to the middle of the garden, ‘a fountain there.’
‘Do you want to go home?’ asked Tash. ‘Are you up to this?’
‘You’re kidding! Get this close and go home? No way. I’ll be fine. It’s just weird, I’ve never been h
ere before, but I recognise it so well.’
‘Come on in, girls,’ said Mrs Rayner as she opened the front door and beckoned us forward. ‘I’ll put the kettle on then find those photos for you.’
We followed her into the hall. ‘But where are the stairs?’ I blurted as I looked around. I could remember exactly how it used to look, with dark green walls covered with gold-framed landscapes, and there had been stairs up to the right with polished wooden banisters.
Effy threw me a ‘shut up’ glance but luckily Mrs Rayner just seemed to assume that in a house like this, it was obvious there would have been stairs at one time.
‘Oh, they were taken out years ago,’ she said, ‘when the house was converted to flats. Luckily I was able to keep my front door. The entrance to the upstairs flat is round the side.’ She ushered us into a sitting room to the left. It was full of dark old fUmiture.
‘Do sit down,’ said Mrs Rayner as she indicated a sofa by the fireplace.
‘I like your antique fUmiture,’ I said as I took a seat.
‘Thank you, Jo,’ said Mrs Rayner. ‘I inherited the fUmiture from my parents along with the house. It was a grand old place before the conversion but too big for them and the ground-floor flat suited them better when they grew older, as it suits my needs now. I wouldn’t know what to do with floors of empty rooms. Now I’ll go and put that kettle on.’ She disappeared out into the hall and moments later, we could hear the clattering of cups and saucers coming from the back of the house.
As I looked around, I had a strange sensation of past and present merging, like on house makeover shows on TV when you see an image of a room before it’s decorated and then it flashes to the finished version. In my mind’s eye, I could see the room as it had been but I was looking at it as it was today.
‘This used to be the dining room,’ I said to Tash and Effy. ‘It had deep red walls and a long polished mahogany table in the middle of the room.’
‘Wow. I wish I could see it how it was,’ said Tash. ‘Sounds amazing.’
Mrs Rayner reappeared with a tray which she put down on the coffee table in front of us.
Love at Second Sight Page 15
