North Star by Karly Lane Page A

wondering about Henry being a twin.’
    â€˜Oh. Yes.’ Madge nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he. I’d almost forgotten about that.’ Kate waited while the older woman took a sip of her coffee. ‘Yes,’ Madge continued. ‘I believe he and his brother were the Campbells’ second family.’
    â€˜Second family?’ Kate frowned.
    â€˜I recall my mother talking about it once. God bless her, she’d be almost a hundred by now if she’d lived. A hundred! Can you believe that?’ She shook her head slowly.
    â€˜What did she mean by second family?’ Kate prodded gently when Madge seemed to drift off, lost in her own memories.
    â€˜Oh, that’s right. Yes, after the older boys all died, Ella and Jake, your grandfather’s parents, had the twins. Well, they had to, didn’t they, to keep the Campbell bloodline going.’
    â€˜What do you mean the older boys all died?’
    â€˜In the war, dear. All four of the boys signed up and they were all killed. An entire generation wiped out. So terribly sad.’
    Kate sank back in her seat as she tried to imagine how devastating that kind of loss would be to a mother. ‘That poor woman,’ she murmured.
    â€˜Heartbroken she was, so I heard.’ Madge shook her head sadly. ‘She had the twins, but by that time she was getting on, and she couldn’t have any more children after that. Your grandfather and his brother were the princes of North Star—and 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 mother’s stories correctly.’ She shook her head sadly, ‘Then poor Harry died, and so young too.’
    A loud bell rang and Madge rose from her chair stiffly.
    â€˜Madge!’ Clive shouted from the kitchen.
    â€˜I heard! I’m coming.’ She rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head. ‘Another boy who was mollycoddled too much by his mother if you ask me,’ she whispered.
    Kate smiled and thanked Madge, but she was disappointed they’d been interrupted before she’d 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.
    â€˜Hello,’ smiled Kate. ‘I’ve just been talking to Madge up at the pub and she suggested I come and find Bert Harris to ask about old church records.’
    The man took off his glasses and wiped them on the bottom of his brown cardigan. ‘You’ve come to the right place, I’m Bert. May I ask who you would be?’
    â€˜I’m Kate Campbell, Henry Campbell’s granddaughter. I’d like to find some information about my family.’
    â€˜Ahh. Yes. I’ve heard a lot about you recently.’
    Kate wasn’t 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 she’d been unable to hide her bruises; then she’d 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 time—either that or God simply