The Golden Anklet

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The Golden Anklet Page 4

by Beverly Hansford


  ‘Tell me about your studio.’

  ‘My business partner, Jeff, does most of the work there. I just help out. We do quite a lot of commercial work for advertising and that sort of thing. We get quite busy at times.’

  ‘You mentioned magazine work once,’ Jane observed. This was, of course, of particular interest to her.

  ‘Yes, we do that as well.’ Bob must have interpreted her thinking, because he suddenly suggested, ‘I could show you some of the work we’ve done in that area.’

  ‘That would be really most interesting.’ Jane was hoping there might be an invitation in the offing there and then, but Bob switched the conversation back to her.

  ‘Are you into photography?’ he asked.

  She looked amused. ‘I have a good camera, but it’s wasted on me. I just take snap photos. Graham, my husband, liked photography. He was really good at it, much better than me.’

  ‘What did he do for a living?’

  ‘He worked in the Foreign Office. He was quite high up. Even I never knew exactly what he did – it was all hush-hush. He travelled quite a bit; that’s how he got killed. He was coming back from Russia, and the plane crashed on takeoff.’

  She was silent for a few seconds, looking down at her plate and playing idly with her salad with her fork. For an instant she seemed to be deep in thought – remembering.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Bob felt his reply was a bit inadequate.

  His response prompted Jane into the present again. She looked up at him. ‘There were survivors and I kept hoping Graham would be among them, but it was not to be.’

  ‘That’s a pretty awful thing to happen to anybody.’

  She nodded. She continued speaking, almost as if she were thinking aloud. ‘I was devastated for a while. I couldn’t sleep or eat. Graham’s parents and his sister were wonderful. They really supported me. My workplace was good as well, letting me have as much time off as I felt I needed.’

  ‘Is that where you’re working now?’

  She nodded again. ‘Yes. I’d just started there.’

  ‘That was unfortunate.’

  ‘It was, but I managed to pull myself together fairly quickly. Work was my therapy.’

  Bob nodded and gave a slight smile. ‘A bit like me when I was going through the divorce,’ he said.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked gently. It was a subject she had been anxious to know more about but hadn’t liked to broach. Now was the opportunity. She tackled her meal again as she waited for Bob to answer.

  It was his turn to be reflective. He sipped his drink. ‘I met Janice when she had just finished at drama school. She was mad keen to be an actress and came to the studio where I was working, to have some publicity photos taken. We were attracted to each other and things carried on from there.’

  He paused for a second, taking another mouthful of lager. ‘We were married quite quickly and had a flat in Islington. Things seemed to be all right between us at first, but it was pretty clear after a while that we didn’t really have much in common. We’d been married about two years when Janice came home one evening and told me she’d fallen in love with someone else and wanted a divorce.’

  ‘Gosh, so sudden. Just like that?’ Jane remarked, surprised.

  He smiled. ‘I think that was the bit that got to me.’

  Bob’s last comment stirred more memories in Jane. ‘I suppose it does happen to quite a lot of people,’ she said. ‘You meet someone, get married and think that’s it – this is forever. And then suddenly something happens and your world falls apart.’

  Bob nodded in agreement. He had long got over his divorce, but he could see that for Jane memories still came to the surface now and then. He decided to tactfully change the subject and at the same time ask the question that was uppermost in his mind: ‘Are you in a relationship with anybody now?’

  Jane gave a slight smile. ‘No. I’ve been taken out a few times since… since Graham, but nothing serious.’ She looked at him. ‘How about you?’

  Bob shook his head. ‘Nothing ongoing,’ he replied. He grinned. ‘I’ve been working lots of evenings – I suppose, like you, to take my mind off things.’

  Jane nodded. ‘It helps,’ she said.

  Suddenly she thought of something else. ‘You said you did a bit of writing. What are you writing about?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a book on photography,’ he replied.

  ‘That’s interesting.’ She paused. ‘I’d like to write a novel.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’ he enthused. ‘You could be good at it.’

  Jane thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps,’ she replied. She stared down at her plate for an instant, as if thinking, and then she suddenly looked up at Bob, her face full of questioning. ‘But there’s something I want to do first. I feel it’s important.’

  Her statement raised Bob’s curiosity. ‘What is it you’d like to do?’ he asked.

  Jane sipped the last of her drink. She thought for a second, and then started to speak slowly, as if voicing her thoughts. ‘Well…’ She hesitated for a few moments. ‘Well, it’s just that I know nothing about my background. I know that my parents both died and that I was put in an orphanage when I was quite young, but that’s about all.’ She looked at Bob, seeking his reaction.

  He was about to reply, but suddenly she spoke again. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for years, but it’s something I now feel I have to do,’ she burst out.

  Bob seemed to be thinking for a moment. ‘How much do you know?’ he asked. ‘For example, do you have a birth certificate?’

  Jane warmed to his apparent interest. ‘Yes, I do,’ she exclaimed, adding, ‘The orphanage gave it to my foster parents when I left there, and then they gave it to me.’

  ‘That should tell you your parents’ names and where you were born.’

  ‘Yes, it does. It states that my parents were James and Sarah Carroll and that I was born in a village in Gloucestershire. I’ve looked the village up on the map. It’s quite a small place.’

  ‘That’s a good start. Does the certificate give your father’s profession?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, it does. Apparently he was a farmer.’

  ‘That’s good. It should also give your mother’s maiden name. What you want to do now is find your parents’ wedding details.’

  Jane responded immediately. ‘There’s a couple in the flat below me. They’re both retired. Gerald is into family history, and he said he’d help me. Apparently there’s a place somewhere in Islington where you can do searches.’

  Bob smiled. ‘The Family Records Centre,’* he replied immediately. ‘I’ve been there.’

  ‘Gosh. You are knowledgeable!’ exclaimed Jane.

  He knew he would have to elaborate. ‘At one point Janice wanted to look into her family history and we made several visits there. It can be a laborious task searching. You have to look through books full of names until you find the right one.’

  ‘How do you know you’ve got the right one?’

  ‘If you’re looking for a marriage, by cross-referring the two names. You search for the bride or groom and then when you think you have the right person, you look for the second name in the same place on the same date.’

  ‘Phew. As simple as that,’ remarked Jane.

  Bob smiled again. ‘It does take a bit of time,’ he said.

  ‘Hmm.’ Jane was thinking. ‘I’ll have to go along there one Saturday,’ she said, almost to herself.

  Bob saw his opportunity and dived in. ‘I could give you a hand,’ he suggested hopefully.

  Jane was elated. ‘Would you really? That would be super.’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘I’ll look forward to that.’

  Things were going better than Bob could have hoped. ‘I’ll have a look at my diary when I get back to work,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a ring and we’ll make a date.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ replied Jane. ‘I’m free most Saturdays.’

  Bob was about to make a further comment, when Jane sudde
nly looked at her watch. ‘Gosh!’ she exclaimed anxiously. ‘How the time flies! It’s lovely chatting, but I’ll have to get back to the office so that somebody else can go to lunch. We take our lunch breaks in turn,’ she elaborated.

  Her action and words prompted Bob to glance at his own watch. ‘I must go too. I’ve got an appointment at two.’ He made a move to get up from his chair, following Jane’s lead.

  Outside the pub they paused, regarding each other for a second. Bob held out his hand. ‘Thanks for the lunch and the chat,’ he said. He sounded as if he really meant it.

  Jane grasped his hand. Once again she offered him her cheek. ‘It’s been lovely seeing you again. I’ve really enjoyed it.’

  ‘We’ll have to do it again soon,’ suggested Bob.

  ‘Fantastic. I’ll look forward to it. Now, I must dash.’ She released his hand.

  ‘Me too. Bye for now.’

  ‘Bye,’ echoed Jane as they parted.

  He watched her hurry away. At one point she looked back and gave him a wave. He waved back and then turned to walk in the opposite direction.

  Jane hastened back to the office. She had enjoyed her lunch break, and meeting Bob again had lived up to all her expectations. She hoped he would keep to his word and ring her. She would have liked to make a firm date there and then, but she was anxious not to appear pushy. Now she would have to wait and see what transpired. She just hoped he would contact her again soon.

  Chapter 5

  Jane walked home from the railway station, a spring in her step. The grey and gloomy sky of earlier in the day had cleared and it was now a fine and rather warm June evening. As she turned into the quiet road where her apartment was situated, her thoughts were still at the office. Discerning Woman was doing quite well at present and this was largely as a result of the exclusive features that had appeared recently in its pages. The Angus Pike interview had been popular with readers and had started the cycle off. As Jane had hoped, Annette’s efforts to secure different pictures had met with little change from the artist. It was rumoured in the office that he had issued a ‘take it or leave it’ ultimatum, with the result that Annette had caved in and allowed Jane and Amy to do what they wanted with the photographs they had. Of course, now that the article had proved to be a success, Annette was strutting about as if all the credit were due to her. However, that did not stop Jane and Amy feeling extremely pleased with themselves.

  Jane was feeling particular happy with life. Not only were things going well at work, but in her private life things had changed too, now that she had a new focus – Bob. It was almost three months since they had first met. Now hardly a week elapsed when they did not have some sort of contact with each other. They would chat on the phone regularly or meet up for a pub lunch during the week. On top of that Bob had been as good as his word. One afternoon Jane had taken a few hours off work and accepted his invitation to visit his studio. She had been surprised to find that it was not very far from her office. The studio was light and airy, and bigger than she had expected. After a cup of coffee with Bob’s partner, Jeff, they had spent some time looking at the type of work the two photographers carried out at the studio. Jane had been impressed and thought that perhaps there might be other occasions when the studio could be of use to Discerning Woman magazine.

  While they were looking at some of the photographs that adorned the walls of the studio, Jane had stopped in front of a beautifully composed picture of a naked kneeling woman. She turned to Bob. ‘Do you do nude photography here?’ she asked, a bit surprised.

  Bob gave a slight smile. ‘Occasionally,’ he replied. ‘Mostly for actresses or models who hope a nude photograph will impress a producer or an agency.’

  The photograph stirred memories for Jane. ‘Graham took a really good… picture of me once.’ She could have bitten her tongue. She had been going to say ‘nude’, but at the last moment she decided that this wasn’t the sort of information she wanted to share, at least not yet. The incident had occurred early in her marriage and she had willingly consented to her husband’s suggestion that he photograph her naked, provided that, as she had put it, it would be ‘tasteful’. She had kept the photograph among her treasures as a memento.

  Bob had an idea what Jane had been going to say, but he pretended not to notice and tactfully drew her attention to the next photograph, a head-and-shoulders portrait.

  Jane had enjoyed the visit to the studio, but the highlight of her new friendship with Bob had been their visit to the Family Records Centre and a search for her parents’ marriage record. Bob had been busy for a few Saturdays, but eventually the long-awaited day had come. They had arrived at the Family Records Centre late in the morning to find it packed with researchers. With the records listed in large books, and four books to a year, it had taken the two of them ages to find what looked like the entry for Jane’s father, and then a match with the bride. Bob worked at one end of the table, fighting for space with other researchers, while Jane occupied the other. It was Jane who discovered the right entry.

  ‘I’ve found it!’ she shouted aloud in her excitement, much to the surprise – and some disapproval – of the other researchers; but nothing could stop the emotion she felt at long last, knowing a little bit more about her roots.

  She filled in a form to order a copy of the marriage certificate, and waited excitedly for it to arrive.

  A few days later she had just been leaving for work when the post came. There was no mistaking the large brown envelope with her handwriting on it. She tore open the envelope there and then and looked at its contents. Hands shaking and heart thumping, she read the document. It clearly showed that the marriage of James Carroll and Sarah Andrews had taken place at the parish church of Great Wishington, Gloucestershire. The pre-marriage addresses of the bride and the groom were in the same village. James’s occupation was given as ‘farmer’.

  Jane felt quite overwhelmed. Not only had the document she had just received confirmed her parents’ details, but she now had definite information about her roots. After years of mystery and unanswered questions about her past, she now felt like a different person. Not only that, but she now felt that she had the foundations to explore the history of her family in more detail.

  *

  Jane was relieved to leave the hot and dusty pavement and walk up the drive to her apartment block, which was surrounded by lawns and contained eighteen apartments. As she let herself into the building and entered the hall space, the lift doors opened and Margot, one of her neighbours, emerged with her pug dog.

  ‘Hi, Margot,’ was Jane’s greeting.

  ‘Hello, Jane. It’s very warm, isn’t it? I wasn’t going to go out, but Sam wanted to have his evening walk.’

  ‘Yes, it is rather hot,’ Jane agreed.

  Margot was a retired civil servant and lived with her sister and Sam in the apartment opposite Jane’s. ‘Do you want the lift?’ she asked, holding the doors open.

  Jane declined. ‘I usually walk up,’ she explained.

  Margot was slightly aghast. ‘I’ve never done that,’ she revealed.

  Jane smiled. ‘It keeps me fit,’ she replied cheerfully.

  Margot made a face, muttered something about Jane being energetic, and went on her way, leaving Jane climbing the first flight of stairs. It was Jane’s habit to walk up to the third and top floor of the block, where her apartment was situated, and she saw no problem in the exercise, though she had to admit she was both younger and slimmer than Margot.

  She let herself into her apartment. She dumped her briefcase in the corridor and kicked off her shoes before walking into the lounge. The evening sunshine was streaming in, making the room hot. She quickly opened two of the windows to let in a bit of air. The thought of a cool shower was inviting after her journey home in the hot and stuffy train, and she quickly disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later she was enjoying the tepid water.

  Refreshed after her shower, she slipped into the bathrobe that hung on the bath
room door. She wasn’t going anywhere this evening, and the robe, which she had treated herself to the previous week, was cool and comfortable. She went into the tiny kitchen, trying to decide what to have to eat. A boiled egg seemed to be an easy option. She busied herself for a few minutes preparing the simple meal, and after setting the egg and the kettle to boil she wandered back into the lounge. Her parents’ marriage certificate still lay on the coffee table where she had left it. She picked it up and for the hundredth time studied its content. The thrill was still there. But this was only a start. She wanted to find out more about her ancestry. Her excitement had already prompted her to show the certificate to Gerald, her neighbour. He had been very interested and had written down the details and told her he would see what else he could find out. Bob had also promised to help her again.

  The thought of Bob completely switched Jane’s thinking from family history to a more personal level. Over the past few weeks she had been increasingly aware that she was very attracted to Bob. They had not discussed their relationship, but she could tell that Bob felt the same way about her. Their meetings had become more frequent and, it seemed, eagerly looked forward to by both of them. Now when they met she offered her lips to him instead of a cheek, and of late their kissing had become more passionate. On the last occasion, when she had kissed him goodbye, his hands had lingered on her back, waiting to explore. She guessed that under Bob’s quiet and calm exterior a fire smouldered that with prompting would burst into flames of passion. At the same time she could not completely ignore the craving and demands of her own body. She knew that sooner or later their relationship would transcend to the next stage. She had already given a lot of thought to that eventuality, and for the first time since her marriage she had ensured that she was protected. She had never taken chances, unlike some of her friends at university, trusting to luck after a one-night stand. If she and Bob were to become more intimate, then she would make sure that she was prepared both mentally and physically.

 

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