‘Hello again.’ Bob’s greetings were always low-key.
Jane closed the door and the next moment her arms were around him. ‘Darling, it’s so good you’re here. It’s been two whole weeks since we were last together.’
‘Two weeks, five hours and six minutes,’ he replied.
The next second they were kissing each other passionately.
After a while they broke off. Bob held her close. ‘Mmm… You always smell so nice,’ he murmured.
‘It’s different from my usual perfume. Do you like it?’ Jane had her face burrowed in Bob’s shoulder as he gently caressed her back with his free hand.
‘I do,’ he replied. He added, ‘I like your other one as well.’
Suddenly Jane disentangled herself from their embrace. She stood back, glanced down at herself, and then looked at Bob with a cheeky grin.
‘What do you think of my outfit?’ she enquired, looking again at her dress. ‘It’s the alluring me,’ she laughed.
Bob scrutinised her garb, and his eyes finally rested on the gold anklet. ‘It’s quite different, but I like it. Anklet as well.’
Jane followed his gaze. She blushed just a little. But her strategy had worked.
‘My little bit of wickedness. I haven’t worn it for years,’ she replied with a shy grin.
‘It’s perfect.’ He added quietly, ‘Janice used to wear one occasionally.’
‘It’s got a tiny label attached to it with my name on it. See?’ Jane bent down and turned the anklet round to show Bob. She was going to say that Graham had bought it for her, but she decided against it. She stood up again, a mischievous grin on her face. ‘Anyway, which do you prefer? Plain Jane, or Wicked Jane?’
Bob pretended to be deep in thought for a second. ‘Plain Jane by day, Wicked Jane in the evening, and Sexy Jane in bed.’ He laughed.
Jane made a face at him and then grinned. ‘I’ll have to remember that,’ she replied gaily.
The next instant reality bounced back. She remembered the dinner. ‘Hey! I’ve got a meal to cook. You put your things away and go into the lounge.’
It was the end of their frolicking. Jane hurried in the direction of the kitchen. Just before she disappeared she called out, ‘Would you like something to drink?’
Bob called back from the bathroom where he was depositing his toilet kit. ‘I’d love a cup of tea. Shall I make it?’
‘No, I’ll make one.’ Jane was already busy with the tuna steaks.
A minute or so later Bob appeared in the kitchen door. ‘Can’t I help?’ he asked.
‘Certainly not. This is my show. You go and relax while I cook.’
‘I brought some goodies for us.’ He glanced down at the carrier bag he was carrying.
‘Mmm, that sounds interesting. What have you got?’ Jane turned from closing the oven door.
‘There’s a bottle of wine, a couple of bottles of beer, some grapes… Oh, and a cake.’ Bob started to put the items on the kitchen table.
‘Fantastic! We can have the wine with our meal if you prefer it to the one I bought. Have a look – it’s in the fridge.’
Together they sorted out the things Bob had brought and then Jane insisted that he go and sit in the lounge. A few minutes later she brought him a mug of tea. Then she produced a photograph album and placed it on the settee beside him.
‘There you are. I told you I was in the Girl Guides.’ She indicated the open page.
Bob picked up the album.
‘Have a look through it,’ Jane encouraged him. ‘It’s all about my dark and distant past – or what I know of it,’ she called over her shoulder as she hurried back to the kitchen.
Bob scanned through the album. Most of the photos were of Jane, sometimes as part of a group, and sometimes a shot of her alone. Nearly all of them appeared to be of her life in the orphanage and at university. There were just one or two taken when she was obviously on holiday. One early photo showed her with a friend, wearing a rather old-fashioned badly fitting one-piece bathing suit; another was more modern and showed her clad in a trim bikini. There were several photographs of her with an older couple – clearly, Bob thought, the people who had fostered her when she left the orphanage.
When Bob put the album down to take a drink of his tea, a large brown envelope dropped out. It fell onto the floor, and as he picked it up the flap opened, revealing part of a photograph. He pulled it out to look at it. It was a black and white nude photo of Jane in a pleasing kneeling pose, with her body partly turned away from the camera. Bob was intrigued. At the same time, he was viewing the image through the eyes of a photographer.
‘Oh, you horror! You weren’t supposed to see that!’
Bob hadn’t heard Jane walk into the lounge. She stood behind the settee watching him. He quickly turned to look at her.
‘It’s quite good,’ he said. ‘I like it.’
As soon as he spoke, he could see that Jane was just a little bit embarrassed, as he was. ‘I’m sorry. It fell out of the album,’ he explained hastily.
Jane recovered quickly. ‘It was the one Graham took of me. We hadn’t been married long,’ she said slowly. She paused, looking down at the photograph. ‘I’d forgotten I’d put it in that album,’ she admitted ruefully.
Bob smiled at her reassuringly. ‘It’s a good shot,’ he admitted. ‘It does you credit. Perhaps the lighting could have been improved a little.’
‘Graham was only an amateur,’ said Jane. For a second she seemed in deep thought.
Bob was still holding the photograph. ‘I’d like to take one like that of you sometime,’ he said.
Jane gave him one of her coy smiles. ‘You’ll have to marry me first,’ she retorted light- heartedly.
Bob grabbed her hand, which was resting on the back of the settee. He pulled her towards him.
‘I’ll do that any time,’ he murmured softly as he kissed her.
Chapter 20
After the brief interlude with the photograph, Jane and Bob enjoyed a leisurely meal, accompanied by the bottle of wine Bob had brought. They took slightly longer over it than Jane had anticipated, and she became increasingly concerned that they would be late for their meeting with Gerald, Anna and Eric. As she and Bob had been apart for two weeks, there were numerous snippets of news and gossip to exchange, which accounted for the slightly rushed situation towards the end of the meal. Nevertheless, it was only a few minutes after the agreed time when they rang the bell of Gerald and Anna’s apartment.
It was Anna who opened the door.
‘Hello. It’s lovely to see you. Now come right in. We’re all ready for you. I’m just making the coffee.’
She ushered them into the lounge, where Gerald and his friend were sitting, and immediately started the introductions. ‘Eric, this is Jane and this is Bob.’
Gerald and Eric had already jumped up. Eric stretched out his hand. He was a tall, thin man dressed in a formal suit of sombre grey stripe set off by a rather crumpled shirt and tie that had seen better days. He peered at Jane and Bob over a pair of half-frame spectacles.
‘Ah, a member of the Ashington family,’ was his jovial greeting to Jane.
‘We’re not really sure about that,’ replied Jane, smiling politely as she shook his hand.
‘A most interesting family,’ was Eric’s remark as they all sat down.
Eric cleared his throat. He regarded Jane and Bob across the coffee table. ‘I—’
He got no further. He was interrupted by Anna.
‘Eric, wait a minute while I get the coffee. I want to hear all about it as well.’
For a second Eric looked a bit embarrassed, but a wink and grin from Gerald smoothed things over as Anna hurried to the kitchen.
The conversation was of a trivial nature until Anna returned with the coffee. Gerald produced a bottle of liqueur and poured some out for everybody. Neither Jane nor Bob really wanted any, but they politely accepted the glasses he handed them.
At last Anna settled in her se
at beside her husband. ‘Now I’m all ready,’ she announced, taking up her cup of coffee.
It was Bob who brought the conversation back to family history matters. ‘Can you tell us a bit about the Ashington family background?’ he asked Eric.
Eric took a sip of his liqueur. He looked at Bob and Jane over his glasses. Clearly this was a habit of his. He took his time before speaking.
‘I looked into the Ashington family some years ago, when I became a professional genealogist. A most interesting family to research.’
‘Can you tell us where the family roots are?’ asked Jane. Though apprehensive about what she might learn, she still was anxious to know about her possible roots.
Eric resumed, his gaze centred on Jane. ‘Until comparatively recently, they were centred very much in Bristol and the surrounding area. In the eighteenth century two members of the family, Henry and John Ashington, were ship owners operating out of Bristol.’
‘Gosh, that’s interesting. Can you tell us any more?’ Jane took the opportunity to comment as Eric took another sip of his liqueur.
Eric resumed his narrative.
‘The family began to own sugar plantations in the West Indies and sadly started to import slaves from Africa to work on them.’
‘You mean they were actually involved in the slave trade?’ Jane looked shocked.
Eric nodded. ‘Unfortunately, that’s true, for a period of time. Yes, they were involved. They had the sugar plantations, which needed workers, and they had the ships to transport them.’
‘It’s horrible to think that a family like that was involved in such a vile trade,’ said Jane.
Bob glanced at her. She appeared to be quite upset at Eric’s revelation. He hadn’t seen her quite like this before. This prompted him to ask a further question.
‘I seem to have got the impression that the Ashingtons were very much a wealthy family based in England. So how did owning sugar plantations fit into that scenario?’
Eric laughed. ‘You’re quite correct in your assumption. Sugar cane made the family very wealthy, but when the slave trade ended, so did the family interest in sugar-cane growing. The later members of the family turned their attention to the rise of industry in Great Britain.’
‘What kind of industry would that have been?’ It was Bob who again asked a question.
‘Certain members of the family were very far-sighted. They seemed to recognise early on how a new industry was going to develop, and they invested in the new enterprises accordingly.’
‘What industries were they?’ Gerald repeated Bob’s question.
Eric turned his attention from Jane and Bob and focused on Gerald. ‘Coal mining, for one,’ he replied simply.
Eric took another drink of his coffee. He looked at his audience again and continued. ‘It was Samuel Ashington who first took an interest in coal mining.’
‘Can you tell me roughly what year that would have been?’ asked Jane.
Eric picked up a file from the floor beside his chair. He took out a piece of paper and looked at it. ‘Samuel was born in 1796,’ he replied. ‘It was Samuel and later his son Edward who expanded the business. They owned several coal mines, including one in Yorkshire.’
‘Gosh, that’s a bit of a spread of interests!’ exclaimed Bob, intrigued by Eric’s revelation.
Eric nodded. ‘It was,’ he agreed. ‘The family were extremely successful in their business ventures.’
Jane had been listening intently, trying to work out how her possible roots fitted in with the information Eric was providing. Suddenly she asked a question that was perplexing her.
‘I’m a bit baffled. If the Ashington family were originally living around Bristol and then became involved in coal mining in Yorkshire, why would Ruth Ashington have been placed in an orphanage in Gloucestershire?’
She paused, a puzzled look on her face, but before Eric could answer, she suddenly thought of something else. ‘And there’s another thing. How is it that the orphanage was founded by an Ashington?’
Her questions stirred comments from both Gerald and Anna.
‘Could it be that there were several members of the family involved, with interests in the two places?’ asked Gerald.
‘Perhaps they split their time between the two counties,’ suggested Anna, looking at everybody in turn.
Eric thought for a few seconds. ‘We have to remember that we are dealing with several generations of the same family. Their interests often tended to change with each new generation. By the late eighteen hundreds they had become wealthy estate owners, with land and homes in both Gloucestershire and Yorkshire.’
He paused and looked directly at Jane. ‘It would be Edward the son of Samuel who founded the orphanage you were in,’ he added. He looked at his audience for a second and then thought of something else he wanted to say. ‘Being wealthy landowners didn’t stop the Ashington family from having lucrative business interests as well.’ He smiled.
‘But Gloucestershire and Yorkshire are so far apart,’ protested Jane.
Eric nodded. ‘Agreed,’ he said, ‘but you have to remember that by the mid-eighteen hundreds rail travel had become quite normal.’
‘I suppose so,’ replied Jane thoughtfully.
Eric had more information. He cleared his throat, glanced at his papers again and faced his listeners. ‘It was the Great War of 1914 to 1918 that really decimated the family and affected the future generations badly.’
‘In what way?’ asked Bob.
‘A James Ashington had three sons and two daughters. Two of his sons were killed in the war, John in 1916 and Charles in 1917. The remaining son, Edward, carried on the family’s business interests.’
Jane already had another question to ask. ‘Do you think there’s a connection between the name Ruth Ashington in the orphanage admissions book and this family?’
‘It’s quite possible,’ replied Eric. He glanced at his paperwork. He looked up at Jane and Bob and then spoke again. ‘Sadly, from the time of Edward Ashington on, the family dwindled in numbers. Not only did he lose his two brothers in the war, but one of his sisters never married and the second sister’s marriage produced no children.’
‘What about Edward? Did he marry?’ asked Jane.
‘Yes. He did. In 1946, but unfortunately his wife Jessica died two years later. She was only thirty-three years old.’
‘What about children? Are there any from the marriage?’ Jane was still thinking about Ruth Ashington.
Eric nodded. ‘Yes, there was one daughter, Ann, born in 1948. She was only eighteen when her father died suddenly.’
‘What happened to her?’ asked Jane.
Eric put his papers down and drank the last of his coffee. He adjusted his spectacles and resumed his narrative to his waiting audience. ‘Well, she was of course an incredibly wealthy woman. She seems to have been a bit of a recluse and apparently frequently ill.’
‘Do you know where she is now?’ Bob had been listening intently and doing mental calculations. He elaborated. ‘She would only be in her fifties.’
Eric shook his head. ‘She died in 1980,’ he said simply.
‘How was it that such a wealthy woman didn’t have any suitors and get married?’ piped up Anna.
Eric smiled at her. ‘She did,’ he explained. ‘In 1978. She married a Miles Ashington.’
‘It seems a bit odd that she married somebody with the same name,’ remarked Jane. She too started to do some calculations. Her next query reflected this. ‘But she was only married two years before she died.’ She looked at Eric with a questioning gaze.
Eric seemed unperturbed by her observation. ‘Yes, indeed. That is so,’ he replied.
‘I’m puzzled about the marriage to a person with the same name,’ persisted Jane.
Eric smiled at her. ‘In family history one does come across that happening. Perhaps cousins marrying, or it could be a brother marrying a widowed sister-in-law,’ he explained.
There was a brief sil
ence as they all digested everything Eric had related.
It was Eric who spoke again first. ‘I have to say that most of my research dealt with the earlier members of the family. Given the present situation, some further research could prove interesting.’ He looked at Jane as he finished speaking.
Jane was deep in thought. What she had just heard Eric describe seemed to be completely remote from her own situation, yet at the same time there was Ruth Ashington to consider. How did she relate to the events Eric had described?
‘Where do you think Ruth Ashington fits into all this?’ she asked. ‘And why would her record in the admissions register have been obliterated?’
Eric thought for a second. ‘She could be a distant cousin of the family,’ he explained. He paused again. ‘Unfortunately, the answer to your question why records have been amended must lie with the orphanage, or with somebody who worked there.’
Jane was disappointed. She had been hoping that this meeting with Eric would reveal some clues about her past, but things were not turning out that way. Though Eric’s information about the Ashington family was interesting, his knowledge ended at just about the period she was most interested in. She felt as if she had come up against yet another closed door, and the cold fact remained that any clues to her ancestry lay with the orphanage or with people connected with it. She was about to ask Eric another question, but was beaten to it by Anna stating almost the same thing she had been thinking.
‘Perhaps this Ann Ashington had a daughter,’ suggested Anna.
‘It looks as if it could be a likely answer to me,’ observed Gerald.
‘Did you never find anything when you did your research into the family?’ asked Jane.
Eric chuckled wryly. ‘As I said, I was chiefly concerned with the earlier history of the family. I did trace Ann Ashington’s marriage, but it would be worth another look in the records to see if there was a birth, illegitimate or otherwise.’
Eric had hardly finished before Gerald chipped in. ‘We could definitely do that,’ he said, looking at Jane.
His remark prompted a wave of concern in Jane. ‘I feel that I should do that. Up until now I seem to have had everybody else doing my family history for me.’
The Golden Anklet Page 18
