wondering about Henry being a twin.â
âOh. Yes.â Madge nodded solemnly. âYes, he was, wasnât he. Iâd almost forgotten about that.â Kate waited while the older woman took a sip of her coffee. âYes,â Madge continued. âI believe he and his brother were the Campbellsâ second family.â
âSecond family?â Kate frowned.
âI recall my mother talking about it once. God bless her, sheâd be almost a hundred by now if sheâd lived. A hundred! Can you believe that?â She shook her head slowly.
âWhat did she mean by second family?â Kate prodded gently when Madge seemed to drift off, lost in her own memories.
âOh, thatâs right. Yes, after the older boys all died, Ella and Jake, your grandfatherâs parents, had the twins. Well, they had to, didnât they, to keep the Campbell bloodline going.â
âWhat do you mean the older boys all died?â
âIn the war, dear. All four of the boys signed up and they were all killed. An entire generation wiped out. So terribly sad.â
Kate sank back in her seat as she tried to imagine how devastating that kind of loss would be to a mother. âThat poor woman,â she murmured.
âHeartbroken she was, so I heard.â Madge shook her head sadly. âShe had the twins, but by that time she was getting on, and she couldnât have any more children after that. Your grandfather and his brother were the princes of North Starâand it showed. They were spoilt rotten and apparently got away with a lot more than most around here did. Quite a dashing pair they were. Broke many a heart around the district too, if I remember my motherâs stories correctly.â She shook her head sadly, âThen poor Harry died, and so young too.â
A loud bell rang and Madge rose from her chair stiffly.
âMadge!â Clive shouted from the kitchen.
âI heard! Iâm coming.â She rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head. âAnother boy who was mollycoddled too much by his mother if you ask me,â she whispered.
Kate smiled and thanked Madge, but she was disappointed theyâd been interrupted before sheâd found out the rest of the story.
Outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, Kate walked along to the small stone Presbyterian church at the end of the main street.
The arched front doors were shut, and a quick rattle on the handle showed they were locked. Kate walked around the side and found another entrance. She knocked on the door and waited to see if anyone would answer.
After a moment Kate heard footsteps and a white-haired man with narrow glasses opened the door and asked how he could help.
âHello,â smiled Kate. âIâve just been talking to Madge up at the pub and she suggested I come and find Bert Harris to ask about old church records.â
The man took off his glasses and wiped them on the bottom of his brown cardigan. âYouâve come to the right place, Iâm Bert. May I ask who you would be?â
âIâm Kate Campbell, Henry Campbellâs granddaughter. Iâd like to find some information about my family.â
âAhh. Yes. Iâve heard a lot about you recently.â
Kate wasnât altogether sure she liked the sound of that, but the man smiled and stepped back to allow her to enter the old church.
Inside, the building was dark and cool. The smell of furniture polish and dried flowers hung in the air. Kate had come to this church with her gran a few times as a child. Gran had been a regular member of the congregation, coming every Sunday, save for the days sheâd been unable to hide her bruises; then sheâd just sat in her rocking chair and looked out the window quietly. When Kate had asked what she thought about when she sat and rocked like that, Gran had said she talked to God. Secretly Kate had thought it was a waste of timeâeither that or God simply
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