No going back - 35. Family matters 3

>I've found a wonderful cache of photographs in the local archives. It seems that when the present owners took over the local newspaper, they dumped most of the photographs on the County Archives. They are rather poorly indexed, but some basic searches yielded up gold.

"Family ones?"

>Well, nothing personal, alas. We still don't have any of those, but certainly the sort of staged business ones, and civic. I have rather a lot of your grandfather and grandmother opening things.

"Cutting ribbons, looking pontifical?”

>That's it. And Manchester has yielded up similar results with some of the firm’s plants there. I am sure someone, somewhere has some personal stuff. Are you sure there are no other relatives?

"None that I know of. As far as I know, the old house was sold when my grandfather went into a home. I know we visited him there, but I've no idea who organised his move. I've chatted to Mhairi, and we don't think our Father would have put grandfather in such a place."

>What would your Father have done?

"Gone for somewhere more religious, I think. Some sort of retreat. Evidently Mhairi knows of a couple of places that have loose connections with the church or at least have a similar outlook."

>So, if not your Father, whom?

"No idea, your guess is as good as mine. The present solicitors have no idea, the original partners of my grandfather's solicitors are long gone and all that’s left are the legal files."

>Yes, I've had a note from them and there are one or two useful background documents, but that's it. Right. I will keep digging. Anyway, not to get side-tracked, the good news continues.

"Blimey, what else?"

>As I now have a decent set of photographs including some great images, we are planning a display in the library for the end of November.

"So, everyone is going to be reading about my grandfather the arms dealer?"

>Not quite. Just a general historical story about what one local family did, and the contrast between your Father and your grandfather. I will draft something and let you and Mhairi check it before we do anything concrete. After all, it is your family."

"Thanks, it sounds exciting and unnerving."

>Sorry. We can stop if you want to.

"No, the information is all out there already, and I'd rather you do a presentation, with us involved."

>Please, let me know at any time if things change. But there is also more good news.

"What's that?"

>I have managed to get a grant, a small one.

"For your research?"

>It's a sort of starter and enables me to look into what is available. Once I know that, I can put together a bigger plan to do the research proper.

"Terrific, when does it start?

>This Autumn, so I hope by the end of the year to have a more coherent idea of what information survives in archives.

Sandra seemed to have made great strides in the two weeks we were away. Her message had been waiting for me when we returned from Italy, and I'd phoned her on Monday morning. Now, I needed to let Mhairi know. She had left for her walking holiday; goodness knows where she had reached. She was driving, the Welsh borders (her chosen area) were hardly the place to explore by public transport, but I had discovered that her driving skills were relatively recent. My Father had certainly neither expected nor encouraged her to drive, and marriage hadn't changed that, but had simply added the complexity of a young baby. She had learned a year or so ago, but, admitted that this would be her first long drive.

I texted that I had news and she phoned late Monday afternoon. "Where abouts are you?"

>Oh, I've reached Haye on Wye, and am at the hotel.

"You made good time."

>Well, we were up at sparrow-fart. Joe had some sort of early morning thing at the course, so I got up with him and made an early start.

"Bloody hell, does he do that every day?" She laughed.

>Not a bit. Though starts are prompt. But I think this morning was supposed to be a dawn thing, but they gave them a bit of leeway. Some sort of physical jerks on the lawn as the sun rises.

"Good Lord, it sounds a bit airy fairy." Another laugh.

>Owain. Think about it. A couple of dozen teenagers, getting up at that time, getting themselves together enough to be at the college on time, and then doing physical jerks without the benefit of a gallon of coffee. Not to mention discovering the sheer joy of being outside that early.

"If you put it like that…."

>Anyway, what did you phone about?

"Sorry, got side tracked. I've heard from Sandra."

I explained where we were up to and Mhairi agreed with me about proceeding and letting things run their course, putting the story out there. I think she was rather looking forward to it and jokingly suggested that the display in the library ought to be called 'Our Grandfather the arms dealer'. In fact, I messaged Sandra with the idea and got a wry message back which make me suspect the title might end up in there somewhere. Oh, joy.

Colin had spent Sunday night at his place, after all we'd been together for two weeks and he needed to sort himself out for work. Ordinarily, he'd have done the same on Monday night. But this wasn’t a regular Monday night. Joe was coming to the house from his course and would be staying until a week Friday. Colin had offered to come and stay for a few days, but we had decided not, that it might be better if I and Joe established ourselves.

Before we left on holiday, Mhairi had promised me that she was not going to provide me with any lists. She had written them, but then decided that it would be good for Joe to be on his own two feet, after all he had wanted to spend the period at home alone. So, if he wanted something, he had to ask me. Thankfully, there was nothing to prepare for the course, all Joe had to do was get up and get himself there. And there was no lunch to sort out either, that was provided.

In theory, there was little for me to do apart from provide house room, and make sure he had plenty of food (Mhairi had warned me that his appetite was immense). But I was nervous. Ridiculously so.

I had never had anyone to stay, apart from the odd lover, which didn't really count. My London flat didn't have a second bedroom, and besides who would have come to stay? What friends I had were all in London, as were the people I socialised with. There was no-one else. I had not kept up with people from Uni; once we got our degrees, we had scattered with promises to stay in touch and I, for one, had not followed through. Mind, it was the same with my London friends, I hadn't really been in touch properly since moving up here and there was no-one that I really wanted to stay close to.

During one of our chats on holiday, Colin had described me as oddly self-contained, which was true. And there was something about Colin which disturbed that containment. I'm not sure why. Perhaps he was the first guy I'd been around that I felt I wanted to look after, and despite being first attracted by his bum (which was very tempting indeed), there was something about him that got through my ring of independence. The sight of him appearing with those flowers, a gesture of strength yet him still looking a bit lost. He was the first person that I'd ever really worried about, wanted to take care of. This in itself surprised me and puzzled me, but we were oddly complementary. In everyday stuff, he was the chattier one, but I was the one with the confidence in other ways.

On holiday, he had been the one who was happy to make idle conversation with the others on the gardens tour, to put up with the idiotic comments of the Americans. Well, not so much idiotic as thoughtless; I couldn't believe how little they'd understood about European history. You would have thought that if you were doing a tour of rather esoteric historical gardens, you would have a vague idea of what was what. But Colin, whilst agreeing with me in private, had been far more tolerant and simply chatted to them, yet few people reached through to the real Colin beyond his outward manner.