The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

‘No, no. My Da was taking the picture. I can remember it clearly because I kept sticking my tongue out - just for a laugh, you know – every time he told us to smile. In the end, he told me if I did it again, I wouldn’t be in it. That put an end to my fun and games. My Da always followed through on his threats so I didn’t dare risk it any more. That man…,’ she paused, thinking hard, stabbing a bent finger at the face Emily had recognised. ‘Mr Fletcher, Iris’ dad. That’s Iris there.’ She pointed at the girl with a shoe missing. ‘Now what was his name…I think it began with A ... Albert … No, that isn’t right. It’ll come to me in a minute. He was a good friend of my parents and Iris was my best friend growing up. She was the same age as me and we got up to some mischief together, I can tell you. I remember, one time, we decided to do some gardening and we dug up all my Ma’s prize chrysanthemums. My backside stung for a week after that one. Arthur!’ she exclaimed triumphantly. ‘That was his name. Arthur Fletcher. I knew it would come to me.’

Emily’s eyes were shining. ‘Arthur Fletcher,’ she repeated, ‘and his daughter, Iris. I thought there was a family resemblance between them.’

‘You can’t see in the picture obviously, because colour photography wasn’t about those days, but she had the most amazing, green eyes.’ Daisy looked up at Emily with a jolt of recognition. ‘Like yours.’

Emily swallowed, hardly daring to breathe in case the moment slipped away. This really could be it, she thought - the family she had never known. She stared at the photo in silence as the future revealed itself to her in a series of still frames; meeting Iris, who would be an old woman now, like Daisy; learning about Iris’ children and grandchildren; being told the story of her birth; then finally, being reunited with her mother.

The silence stretched and Emily wrenched herself back to the present. ‘Are you still in touch with Iris? Do you have an address for her?’ Her voice was husky with emotion.

Daisy shook her head sadly. ‘We kept in touch for a while but the years passed and we both had families to keep us busy. She moved away from the village during the war, I seem to remember. It was all a bit sudden and there were a few rumours flying around at the time but I never believed the gossip. Then she wrote to me out of the blue, a few years later, to tell me she was getting married. She was going to live in Norfolk, in a village near Swaffham. I got married shortly after that and my Bert and I moved to Cambridge where his work was. I sent Iris my new address and we exchanged letters for a while but eventually the communication dried up. I don’t know why. I can’t even remember which one of us failed to write. Probably me – I had three children in quick succession and they kept me pretty busy. I was never the best letter writer either. Shame really, especially as we’d once been so close. I wish I knew where she is now or even if she’s still alive. It would be good to see her again and talk about old times.’

The disappointment was instant but Emily refused to let it cloud the excitement she was feeling. ‘Can you remember what happened when she moved away?’ she persisted.

‘I can. It was all very sad. Iris had a young man, Billy Talbot. He was about four years older than her and she’d have only been about fourteen or fifteen at the time but they were in love. Course it was during the war and he was serving in one of the Suffolk regiments.’ She paused and took an unsteady sip of tea, the cup shuddering as it settled back in the saucer. ‘Poor lad was killed. Right near the end of the war it was. Well, Iris was beside herself with grief, of course, and then, out of the blue, she came around to tell me that she and her Da were moving away. Too many memories in Chalkham, she said. She didn’t want me to write to her, she said, so she wouldn’t tell me where she was going. Well, I remember being a bit hurt by that – we were best friends after all. Lots of women in the village had lost loved ones; she wasn’t the only one. It was all a bit odd. Then, after they’d gone, I heard a rumour that she’d gotten pregnant, just like her Ma before her. It was old Mrs Gooding, who ran the village shop; she was the one saying things. When I found out, I went around there and gave her a piece of my mind; a horrible woman she was. It might well have been true. Billy and Iris had been courting pretty strong, if you know what I mean, but it was none of her business and I told her so.’

‘Good for you, Daisy,’ Jennifer said. ‘Let me take your cup.’ It was balancing precariously on the edge of the saucer and she deposited it safely back on to the tray.

‘I don’t suppose you still have an address for where she was staying in Norfolk?’ Emily asked.

Daisy thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I remember it was in my red address book. I had that book for years but eventually it fell apart and my daughter bought me a new one. It wasn’t as nice as my old one but I didn’t tell her that. Anyway, by this time, I hadn’t heard from Iris for years so I didn’t bother transferring her address. She’d probably moved anyway.’

Another dead end. Emily sat back, feeling a little deflated.