The Golden Anklet

by Beverly Hansford

  Jane shook her head. ‘No way,’ she replied, smiling.

  Annette nodded. ‘That’s good. Never mix business with pleasure.’

  Jane made no reply to Annette’s remark. She had actually forgotten all about Angus Pike’s interest in her. As to appearing in one of his paintings, that idea was quite repulsive to her. Appearing nude in a photograph for someone you loved was one thing. Being exhibited naked to the public was a totally different kettle of fish.

  Annette continued the conversation. ‘You work very hard, Jane. You sometimes don’t take a lunch break and often work late. Be careful you don’t burn yourself out.’

  Jane was a bit surprised by this remark. Annette was not known for showing concern about her staff. She vaguely wondered how Annette appeared to know so much about her working hours. She considered her answer carefully.

  ‘I manage OK, but at times a bit of an extra effort is needed.’

  ‘You haven’t taken any holiday leave yet this year,’ observed Annette.

  It was quite true. Except for the odd day here and there, Jane had to agree that a holiday had not been high on her agenda. She and Bob had vaguely discussed a holiday break, but that was as far as it had got. Somehow work had got in the way for both of them.

  ‘I’ll have to think of something,’ she said, hoping that a vague reply might steer the conversation away from her and back to work.

  Annette was not to be fobbed off. She smiled at Jane. ‘I saw you trying on a pretty pair of shoes yesterday. Are they for a special occasion?’

  Gosh, thought Jane, she sees and remembers everything. ‘My boyfriend is taking me to a dinner dance on Friday evening,’ she replied.

  She thought that was sufficient information on the matter, but Annette immediately wanted to know what and where it was. Jane’s vague answer seemed to satisfy her.

  Jane was completely thrown by Annette’s next question.

  ‘You’re taking Friday afternoon off, aren’t you?’

  Jane nodded. ‘Yes. Just to give me time to get myself ready.’

  ‘You must take the whole day off.’

  ‘But…’ Jane started to protest.

  Annette immediately shook her head. ‘No. I insist. You must take some time for yourself, Jane.’

  Jane caved in. She knew that just half a day for everything that she wanted to do would have been a rush. Now she had a full day to look forward to, despite the thought at the back of her mind that she would have to reschedule Friday morning’s work.

  The conversation lasted for ten minutes or so, gradually veering away from Jane to the current work in hand on the magazine. At last Annette put her cup and saucer down and glanced at her watch. This was a clear indication that the interview was over, which pleased Jane. She had been surprised by the sudden appearance of Annette’s caring side and it had been quite pleasant to be praised, but she had a deskload of work to do downstairs. Gratefully, she took her leave. This appeared to suit Annette, who picked up her telephone as Jane was closing the door.

  Of course, Amy wanted to know what had happened. ‘What did Queen Bee want?’ she asked as Jane was passing her desk.

  Jane grinned. ‘Oh, she was quite pleased with how the magazine is going and complimented us on the Gilli Jameson article.’

  Amy’s response was to make a face and utter a simple ‘Oh, is that all?’

  Jane left it at that. During the afternoon another event occurred to brighten her day. She had taken a short lunch break, buying a sandwich and having it at her desk with a mug of tea while idly considering some of the work in front of her. It was then that she suddenly remembered her intention to try once again to get in touch with Mrs Marshall. She had dialled the number so many times that she now almost knew it by heart. The telephone had rung so many times without anybody answering it that on this occasion she was hardly anticipating a reply. She concentrated on her work with the handset held to her ear.

  Suddenly the telephone stopped ringing and a voice answered.

  ‘Hello.’

  Jane’s heart missed a beat. Could this be Mrs Marshall at long last? She almost struggled at first to find some words.

  ‘Hello. Is that Mrs Marshall?’

  There was a slight pause at the other end.

  ‘No. This is her sister.’

  Jane thought quickly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Would it be possible to speak to Mrs Marshall?’

  She waited for the answer but was not prepared for the information it contained.

  ‘I’m sorry. My sister passed away two years ago.’

  The reply threw Jane for an instant. She had not expected such news. She did her best to forge a suitable reply. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry. I had no idea. I do apologise.’

  ‘That’s all right. What did you want to talk to Susan about?’

  It was clutching at straws, but Jane was determined to exploit any opportunity to solve the mystery of her past. She explained her mission as briefly as she could.

  ‘Well, what it is, really…’ She paused for a second. ‘My name is Jane Carroll and I was at Goodmanton orphanage during the time your sister was in charge. I’ve been trying to trace my family and I was hoping your sister might have been able to help.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know…’ Elizabeth’s answer was disappointingly vague.

  Jane was about to try and elaborate, but Elizabeth asked another question.

  ‘What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Carroll. Jane Carroll.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  Despite Elizabeth’s unencouraging response, Jane thought she detected an interest deep down. She decided to take the bull by the horns.

  ‘I was wondering if I might come to see you.’

  She waited. She knew she was clutching at straws.

  Elizabeth’s answer was not encouraging.

  ‘Oh. I don’t know.’ She added, ‘You see, I don’t know you.’

  To Jane her reaction was completely understandable. But Jane was not going to give up. She racked her brain quickly to try and think of something to say to achieve her objective. The answer suddenly came to her.

  ‘I quite understand your caution. As you say, you don’t know me, but I was wondering if you know or read Discerning Woman magazine?’

  She waited. She knew it was a faint hope, but she felt a twinge of encouragement at Elizabeth’s answer.

  ‘Yes, I know it. Sometimes my neighbour gives it to me to read when she has finished with it.’

  This was progress. Jane jumped at the opportunity.

  ‘Do you have a copy of the magazine handy?’

  ‘I might have – or my neighbour would have one. But why do you ask?’ Elizabeth was clearly being very cautious, but Jane could tell that she was curious.

  ‘Well, if you look in the front of the magazine, you will see my name listed. I’m the features editor.’

  Jane waited for a response.

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  The reply was hardly encouraging, but Jane was determined. ‘If you telephone the magazine, they will confirm that I work there. Ask for Margaret. Can I give you the number?’

  ‘All right.’

  It was a minute or two before Elizabeth found a pen and paper and managed to get the number down correctly, but at last it was done. When they had completed the task, Jane reinforced her request.

  ‘Please phone them.’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’

  ‘Please,’ Jane pleaded. ‘It’s very important to me.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll let my colleague know you’ll be ringing. Who shall I tell her to expect?’

  ‘My name is Mrs Barton – Elizabeth Barton.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Mrs Barton. Thank you very much for your help. Goodbye for now.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  The telephone went dead.

  Jane sighed. Well, she had given it her best shot. She could do no more for now. It was up to Elizabeth to take the next step. She k
new it was debatable whether her request would be carried out.

  *

  That evening, after Jane had eaten, she decided to load the family history program she had purchased and search for Ruth Ashington’s birth. She went through year after year, scouring the indexes without success. She tried again the following evening. The outcome was the same. She found no recorded birth details for anyone by the name of Ruth Ashington.

  Chapter 22

  When she woke up on the Friday morning, Jane felt quite pleased with herself. Not only did she have a whole day to herself and time to prepare for the evening, but ever since Annette had insisted on her taking the whole day off she had worked extremely hard and was well pleased with her output. Only one thing dampened her exuberance slightly, and that was the fact that she had heard nothing from Mrs Marshall’s sister. She had hoped for a call from her all day Thursday, but none had come.

  Her immediate reaction on waking was to automatically glance at the clock on the bedside cabinet. It was part of her usual routine, but as she was doing so she remembered that today was a holiday, and she would not have to rush to work. However, that did not stop her thoughts straying to the fact that the previous day she had changed her hairdressing appointment to an earlier time, and that meant she had to be up and about.

  By half past eight she was sitting in the hairdresser’s, and after her session there she popped into the beauty salon next door to indulge herself with one or two other refinements to her appearance, including having her nails changed to a delicate shade of pink.

  After a short visit to the supermarket, she was back in her apartment by lunchtime. Just as she was entering the building she bumped into Gerald coming out. He immediately greeted her with his usual friendly smile.

  ‘Good afternoon, Jane.’

  Jane smiled at him. ‘Hello, Gerald.’

  ‘Not at work today?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve taken a day off. Bob and I are going to a dinner dance in town tonight,’ replied Jane, but even as she spoke her thoughts had already turned to a more important issue. Before Gerald could respond she was already expressing her worry. ‘Gerald, I’m so glad to see you.’ She paused for a moment, ensuring that she had his full attention. ‘I’ve been looking at the birth records on the computer program you installed for me.’ She hesitated again, her concern showing. ‘I can’t find a birth recorded for a Ruth Ashington anywhere in the Gloucestershire area.’ She looked at Gerald, waiting for his reaction.

  Gerald smiled again. ‘I’ve found the same,’ he said simply. Then he asked her, ‘How many years did you go through?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Hmm… I went through fifteen,’ he mused.

  ‘What can we do now?’ asked Jane.

  Gerald was deep in thought. ‘It’s very strange,’ he admitted.

  ‘But where can we go from here?’

  ‘We have to try a different line of research,’ replied Gerald. ‘Extend our search area.’ He added, ‘Or perhaps an error has been made somewhere… Incidentally, have you had any contact with Mrs Marshall?’

  Jane suddenly remembered the small amount of progress she had made. ‘Not Mrs Marshall, no. Apparently she died two years ago. I spoke to her sister on Wednesday.’

  ‘Any information?’ Gerald asked eagerly.

  Jane shook her head. ‘No. Her sister was a bit hesitant over the telephone, but I’m still hoping I can get to see her.’

  Gerald nodded. Suddenly he glanced at his watch. ‘Oh dear. I must go. I’ve got an appointment at the dentist.’

  ‘Oh, you must. Don’t let me keep you.’

  With that Gerald went on his way, muttering something about seeing Jane over the weekend.

  ‘Bye,’ Jane called after him.

  Gerald raised his hand as he disappeared from view.

  Jane made her way up to her apartment. Meeting Gerald had brought back the surprise –shock, almost – of finding no record of Ruth Ashington’s birth. It seemed almost unbelievable that she had come up against yet another block in her efforts to find out who she really was. It always surprised her that Gerald appeared to take everything in his stride when it came to these obstacles in family history. In her circumstances it was something of a comfort and she was glad of his calm and methodical approach to things. She was quite confident that he would come up with the answer about Ruth Ashington.

  She had a snack for her lunch and then began to make preparations for the evening. She dug out her small suitcase from the tiny storeroom each apartment had and started to collect together the things she needed for the evening and the overnight stay.

  While she was doing this her mobile phone rang. There was no mistaking the distinctive sound. Must be Bob, she thought. She retrieved it from the bed where it was lying with a host of other things ready for packing and pressed the button.

  ‘Hello,’ she said gaily.

  But it was a woman’s voice at the other end.

  ‘Is that you, Jane?’

  Jane thought the voice sounded familiar, but she simply answered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s Margaret. I’m dreadfully sorry to call you at home on your day off, but I thought you might like to know that Mrs Barton phoned.’

  Jane was suddenly quite excited. She responded cheerfully, ‘No, that’s fine, Margaret. What did she say?’

  Margaret sounded relieved. ‘Well, she asked an awful lot of questions about you – did you work here? What did you do? What were you like? She even asked how old you were. I told her we’d been expecting her to phone, as you’d asked me to, but of course I didn’t tell her anything personal about you. She ended up by asking me to get you to phone her. I wrote down her number—’

  ‘That’s fine, Margaret,’ broke in Jane. ‘I’ve got her number. I really appreciate you letting me know. I’ll give her a ring straight away. She’s somebody who I think can help me with my family history.’

  After Margaret’s helpful gesture, Jane felt obliged to give those brief details of what it was all about. So far nobody at work knew about her search. She would certainly not say anything about not knowing who she really was at this stage to work colleagues.

  Margaret appeared to accept the explanation without question. ‘I didn’t know you were into that,’ she said. ‘My sister’s husband has been researching their families.’

  ‘It’s a popular pastime now,’ added Jane.

  It was Margaret who ended the conversation. ‘Jane, I must go. There’s another call coming in.’

  Jane quickly responded. ‘Thanks awfully for phoning me.’

  ‘No problem. Have a lovely evening.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll tell you about it on Monday. Bye for now, and thanks again.’

  ‘Bye.’

  And with that Margaret was gone.

  Suddenly everything had changed. Elizabeth Barton had rung the office to make enquiries about her. It must mean that she would agree to a meeting. Jane couldn’t wait to make that important call. She dashed into the hall to retrieve her notebook from her work bag. Even though the number was now quite familiar, she didn’t trust her memory enough to dial without checking – just in case.

  With trembling fingers she keyed the number. The telephone seemed to ring for a long time. Suddenly it was answered. Jane recognised Elizabeth Barton’s voice.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello. Is that Mrs Barton? This is Jane Carroll. I’ve just received your message.’

  ‘Oh, hello dear.’

  Plunge straight in, thought Jane. ‘I was wondering if you would be agreeable to me coming to see you now.’

  There was a slight pause. ‘Well… I suppose so.’ Elizabeth sounded quite hesitant.

  Jane was determined. ‘When would it be convenient for me to visit you?’

  ‘Well, not Monday or Wednesday mornings and not Thursday afternoons.’

  Jane already had a day in mind. ‘What about Tuesday afternoon?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Yes… That would be all right.’ There wa
s again some hesitation in the reply.

  ‘About two o’clock?’ suggested Jane. She could take an extended lunch break.

  ‘Yes. That would be all right.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you then.’ Jane was keen to get everything fixed.

  ‘Very well, dear.’

  ‘Until Tuesday then. I’ll look forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Yes. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Barton.’

  There was a click at the other end of the line. Jane felt ecstatic. The day was getting even better. She had an appointment with Mrs Marshall’s sister! She had a lot of news to tell Bob now. That thought brought her down to earth with a bump. If she was to stick to the schedule she had worked out, she had to get a move on. She hurried back into the bedroom.

  It was close to half past four when she checked into the hotel where Bob had booked accommodation for the night. She was surprised to find that it appeared to be quite an upmarket establishment, and bigger than she had expected. There was an even greater surprise when she took the lift up to the fifth floor and found the room. Turning the key in the lock she threw open the door and almost gave a gasp of astonishment. She was in a small sitting room. Dumping her suitcase on the floor and closing the door, she explored her surroundings. A large en suite bedroom opened up from the sitting area. The bathroom had a giant bath in it as well as a shower. This was a VIP suite, she decided. Bob had certainly pushed the boat out.

  She quickly unpacked the few items she had brought. Bob had told her that he would most likely arrive by half past five, but as he was working in London he said he would telephone her when he was on his way. That gave her plenty of time to be ready by the time he arrived. She wandered into the bathroom. She was tempted to try out the gorgeous bath but decided that could be a treat for later and made do with a shower to freshen up. Her mobile rang just as she was finishing. Enveloping herself in one of the large bath towels provided she dashed into the bedroom and picked up her mobile from the bed, where she had dumped it.

  ‘Hello,’ she answered quickly.

  ‘Hi. It’s Bob. I’m just leaving work. See you in twenty minutes.’

  ‘Super. See you soon.’

  They didn’t waste time on niceties.