the microfiche reader, returned the fiche to its envelope and took it back to the filing cabinet.
Esme replaced the packet, slid the drawer shut and rested her elbows on the top of the cabinet. If Daisy’s birth wasn’t in the index there could be a number of reasons. Perhaps it was never registered. By law, births had to be registered within a period of forty-two days. If too much time had passed and the parents were concerned about the fine they would incur, they might have decided not to bother with the formalities at all. Or it could be that she was registered in some name other than Daisy. Esme made a mental note to look Daisy up in her name dictionary and see if it was short for something. Alternatively, it could be an administrative error. There was ample opportunity for human error when the indexes were compiled. Maybe it was a simple matter of someone having missed her off the list.
Something caught Esme’s eye and she realised Lucy was waving at her from the main desk. She stood up and walked over. Lucy’s face was beaming and she was clutching a brown leather-bound book to her chest.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ said Esme, glancing at the book. ‘What’s all the excitement?’
‘You’ll love this,’ said Lucy. She was almost hopping about, much to Esme’s amusement. ‘I’ve been trawling through the Monkleigh documents.’
Esme felt that surge of expectancy she always got when she knew she was on the brink of discovering something new after a long and unproductive search. ‘What? What have you got?’
Lucy held out the book. ‘It’s some sort of household record from 1937. Isn’t that the date you mentioned? I don’t know if there’s more but this is the only one I’ve come across so far.’ Esme took it from her. ‘Look towards the back pages. There’s a list of the wages paid out and the names of some of the staff.’
Esme laid the book open on the desk and began slowly turning the pages, guided by Lucy’s instructions.
‘A bit further on. There!’ She pointed to a name on the list. ‘Look. That’s the name you said, isn’t it?’
Esme adjusted her reading glasses and focused on the line Lucy was indicating. In neat, careful handwriting was written: Wages 10s paid to Miss Polly Roberts .
She read it again. There was no question. Polly Roberts was unmarried.
*
‘Lunch is on its way,’ said Esme, edging around the café table. She slid into the chair opposite Lucy and set down two glasses of white wine.
‘Thanks, Esme.’ Lucy raised her glass. ‘Here’s to mystery and intrigue.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’ Esme grinned. ‘Don’t they warn you as part of your training not to get emotionally involved with your clients?’
‘Most definitely not. That’s the whole point of the job, delving into the past and getting worked up about the people you find out about. So what have we got? What’s the significance of Polly Roberts?’
Esme hesitated. A stab of loyalty to Gemma? More likely her own protection mechanism. She still felt predominantly foolish about her ignorance of Elizabeth’s adoption. But Lucy was a good friend and a discreet one, too. If there was anyone she should be able to confide in, it ought to be Lucy. She knew Esme better than anyone.
‘It’s rather difficult,’ began Esme, fiddling with the stem of her glass.
‘Oh, I see. Don’t worry if it’s confidential.’ Lucy smiled but didn’t fail to look disappointed.
‘No, you don’t understand. I didn’t mean that.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Don’t look so distraught, Esme. I just thought this was some more of your family history you were looking into.’
Esme felt uncomfortable. ‘Well, it is in a way, but not as I might have imagined.’
Understandably Lucy looked puzzled. Esme gave a half-laugh. ‘I’m sorry, this is sounding quite ridiculous and I’m not making any sense.’
The waitress arrived at the table with their meals. By the time they had organised their food Lucy
Esme replaced the packet, slid the drawer shut and rested her elbows on the top of the cabinet. If Daisy’s birth wasn’t in the index there could be a number of reasons. Perhaps it was never registered. By law, births had to be registered within a period of forty-two days. If too much time had passed and the parents were concerned about the fine they would incur, they might have decided not to bother with the formalities at all. Or it could be that she was registered in some name other than Daisy. Esme made a mental note to look Daisy up in her name dictionary and see if it was short for something. Alternatively, it could be an administrative error. There was ample opportunity for human error when the indexes were compiled. Maybe it was a simple matter of someone having missed her off the list.
Something caught Esme’s eye and she realised Lucy was waving at her from the main desk. She stood up and walked over. Lucy’s face was beaming and she was clutching a brown leather-bound book to her chest.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ said Esme, glancing at the book. ‘What’s all the excitement?’
‘You’ll love this,’ said Lucy. She was almost hopping about, much to Esme’s amusement. ‘I’ve been trawling through the Monkleigh documents.’
Esme felt that surge of expectancy she always got when she knew she was on the brink of discovering something new after a long and unproductive search. ‘What? What have you got?’
Lucy held out the book. ‘It’s some sort of household record from 1937. Isn’t that the date you mentioned? I don’t know if there’s more but this is the only one I’ve come across so far.’ Esme took it from her. ‘Look towards the back pages. There’s a list of the wages paid out and the names of some of the staff.’
Esme laid the book open on the desk and began slowly turning the pages, guided by Lucy’s instructions.
‘A bit further on. There!’ She pointed to a name on the list. ‘Look. That’s the name you said, isn’t it?’
Esme adjusted her reading glasses and focused on the line Lucy was indicating. In neat, careful handwriting was written: Wages 10s paid to Miss Polly Roberts .
She read it again. There was no question. Polly Roberts was unmarried.
*
‘Lunch is on its way,’ said Esme, edging around the café table. She slid into the chair opposite Lucy and set down two glasses of white wine.
‘Thanks, Esme.’ Lucy raised her glass. ‘Here’s to mystery and intrigue.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’ Esme grinned. ‘Don’t they warn you as part of your training not to get emotionally involved with your clients?’
‘Most definitely not. That’s the whole point of the job, delving into the past and getting worked up about the people you find out about. So what have we got? What’s the significance of Polly Roberts?’
Esme hesitated. A stab of loyalty to Gemma? More likely her own protection mechanism. She still felt predominantly foolish about her ignorance of Elizabeth’s adoption. But Lucy was a good friend and a discreet one, too. If there was anyone she should be able to confide in, it ought to be Lucy. She knew Esme better than anyone.
‘It’s rather difficult,’ began Esme, fiddling with the stem of her glass.
‘Oh, I see. Don’t worry if it’s confidential.’ Lucy smiled but didn’t fail to look disappointed.
‘No, you don’t understand. I didn’t mean that.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Don’t look so distraught, Esme. I just thought this was some more of your family history you were looking into.’
Esme felt uncomfortable. ‘Well, it is in a way, but not as I might have imagined.’
Understandably Lucy looked puzzled. Esme gave a half-laugh. ‘I’m sorry, this is sounding quite ridiculous and I’m not making any sense.’
The waitress arrived at the table with their meals. By the time they had organised their food Lucy
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