Summer Loving (10 page)

Jess knew she needed to go further back. She discovered that William Joseph’s mother, Elizabeth Ann Vickery, was one of six children born to slave Ann Vickery by her master Thomas Ryerson.

A note in the Ryerson archive explained that widower plantation owners often took one of their slaves as a mistress. These women were often of mixed race and very beautiful. Society turned a blind eye provided the man was discreet. Many such fathers ensured their slave offspring were taught a trade or craft: carpentry for the boys, and spinning, nursing, or cookery for the girls.

These illegitimate children’s names were never inscribed in the family bible, handed down through generations and the usual source of ancestry information. But some – and Thomas Ryerson was one – recorded the births and names in their farm book.

Four of Ann’s children did not survive infancy. The two who did, Elizabeth and James, were left property in their father’s will. A preceding clause instructed they were to be freed and given a deed of proof. Without this they would not have been entitled to receive their bequests.

This explained how Elizabeth was able to marry. Slaves had no legal standing so the only relationships they could form were under common law. The bequest must have been the source of the money that enabled John and Elizabeth Spencer to move from Ohio to Wisconsin and invest in their hotel.

Jess sat back, amazed at all she had discovered. Billy-Joe Spencer’s great-great grandmother had been a slave. She sighed. The bloodline was too diluted to be the sole reason for the colour of Karen and Scott’s baby. She saved her work and closed her laptop. Tomorrow she would work back through Billy-Joe’s mother’s ancestry.

At seven on Monday evening Jess’s phone rang. ‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Trevanion? It’s Scott Trewearn. Mother told me she been to see you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Could I stop by and see you for a minute?’

‘OK. When did you want to come?’

‘Now? That’s if you don’t mind.’

‘You know where I live?’

‘Yes, Mother said. Behind the pump, cottage next to the pub.’

‘I’ll see you shortly.’ Had Linda told Scott her suspicions about her real father? She’d know soon enough.

Wearing clean jeans and a polo shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, Scott sat on the edge of the sofa, tanned forearms resting on his spread knees, unconsciously digging at the broken skin around his thumbnail.

Jess put a cold drink on the coffee table in front of him and sat down.

He rubbed his forehead. ‘I wanted a family, ’course I did. But when Karen fell pregnant ... It wasn’t like I expected.’

Jess felt sorry for him. ‘It rarely is. Morning sickness?’

He pulled a face. ‘Awful it was. That and her crying. I’d ask what was wrong but she wouldn’t say.’

‘She probably didn’t know herself. It’s probably no comfort, Scott, but Karen wasn’t unusual. I was like a leaky tap. Something sad on the news or a beautiful sunset would have me in floods. My husband said he never knew if he was coming home to Mary Poppins or Godzilla.’

‘Yeah?’

She nodded.

‘I thought she’d be happy. She’d got a bit down when we was trying and nothing happened. The doctor said we should stop fretting. He said we was both fit and healthy and best thing we could do was relax and enjoy ourselves because once we had a family we’d never have a spare minute. He told us if she wasn’t pregnant in six months to come back and see him. Five months later ... She didn’t tell me for three weeks. Then she did one of they tests. When she brought it in to show me, her face – looked like she’d swallowed the sun. Glowing she was. But now –’ he looked away, compressing his lips to stop them quivering.

‘Before the baby was born,’ Jess spoke quietly, ‘did you ever suspect Karen of being unfaithful?’

He shook his head.

‘And after, she swore to you there had never been anyone else?’

He looked up, anguish stark on his face. ‘Well – she would, wouldn’t she?’

‘Why don’t you believe her, Scott?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘Didn’t it occur to you that there might be another explanation?’

As shock blanked his expression, she knew the possibility had not crossed his mind. ‘Like what?’

‘When a child is conceived it inherits genes from both its parents, who inherited genes from their parents and so on. The black gene could have come from several generations back in either of your families. Your mum asked me to try and find out who and when.’

Disbelief, doubt, hope, passed like clouds across his face. ‘But why us? Why now?’

Jess shrugged. ‘Something in the particular combination of yours and Karen’s genes triggered the reappearance of this one.’

‘So Karen never – She was telling the truth all along?’

‘Forgive me for asking, Scott, but why didn’t you want to believe her?’

‘I
did
want to. But if she had been with someone else, I wouldn’t be feeling so bad about –’ he stopped. His hands were so tightly clasped his nail beds were bloodless. When he looked up, misery etched his face. ‘I love her, right? Prettiest girl in the class she was, and clever. I’m no fool, but she’s streets ahead of me. Because I’m practical we make a good team.’ He reminded Jess so much of Tom. ‘Like I said, I wanted a family. But at the same time –’ he shrugged helplessly.

‘You were afraid of the changes a baby would bring?’ As his head jerked up in surprise, she thought of the difficulties her son Rob was facing. ‘For what it’s worth, Scott, I’m pretty sure every man goes through a stage of feeling like that.’

‘Yes, but I bet they don’t –’ he began miserably, then stopped once more. She waited, giving him time. Either he would tell her whatever it was he wanted to get off his chest, or he wouldn’t.

‘See, first there was the sickness. Then she had this spotting and we was afraid – so we couldn’t –’ He bent his head, his ears bright red. ‘Before, it was just her and me. But soon as she fell pregnant the baby was all she talked about. She’d got what she wanted and now she didn’t have time for me.’ He heaved in a breath and avoided her eyes. ‘Brianna Pellow did.’

Jess sighed. Quite apart from the grief she was causing others, Brianna was doing herself no favours.

‘It was a one-off, OK? I don’t drink much. But that night I’d had a few of pints of cider ... Anyhow, soon as we ... I threw up. Brianna was mad as fire, called me names. I didn’t mind. I deserved them. I felt awful. I don’t want to lose Karen.’

‘How did you feel when you told her the baby couldn’t be yours and she must have slept with another man?’ Jess asked quietly.

He flinched as if she had slapped him. ‘I – I saw the baby come out so I knew it was hers. But I didn’t see how it could be mine. Mother said you promised to find out how it might have happened.’ He hesitated then words tumbled out. ‘Karen have gone back to her parents. They’re saying it’s so she’ve got help with the baby while she gets over the birth. But she didn’t need to go. Mother was willing to stay as long as Karen needed her. It was me she wanted to get away from. If only I’d known there could be another reason – I never would have –’

‘If only,’ Jess broke in. ‘The two saddest words in any language. But what’s done can’t be undone. So what do you want, Scott?’

A tear slid down his cheek. He flicked it away impatiently. ‘I want Karen back home.’

‘The DNA results should be through soon. Your mother is certain they will show the baby is your son. If you want Karen you have to accept him.’

His tongue snaked out to moisten dry lips. ‘What about Brianna? Should I tell Karen?’

‘Dump your guilt on her so you can feel better? Don’t you think she’s been through enough?’

He flinched again. ‘Sorry. ’Course she have. But if I don’t tell her then she finds out –’ He wiped a hand across his face. ‘I’d give anything if I could go back. I’d tell Brianna no thanks and be out of that car park like greased lightning.’

Jess remembered what Viv had told her about Cissie Cottrell seeing Darren with Brianna in the pub car park.

‘Can I make a suggestion?’

‘Go on then.’

‘Phone and make an appointment with Relate. You and Karen have both been through a difficult time. Talking things through with someone who isn’t family will allow you both to be completely honest and get rid of all the bad stuff. You each have a session on your own before going together.’

‘Been there have you?’

‘Not to Relate. But after my husband died I found out a lot about him that I hadn’t known. Counselling helped me come to terms with it. They aren’t there to judge, Scott. Their job is to help you deal with what’s happened then decide how to move forward, together or separately.’

He paled. ‘I can’t unsay what I said. But I want to make it up to her.’

‘That’s a good start.’ Jess rose to her feet. She felt drained.

Scott stood up. Shy, awkward, he stuck his hand out. ‘Thanks.’

Jess smiled as she shook it. ‘You’re welcome. When you get home will you ask your mum to give me a ring so I can tell her what I’ve found out so far?’

He paused at the door, his expression anxious. ‘You won’t say anything about –?’

‘It’s nothing to do with me, Scott. Your mum asked me to try and find an explanation for the baby’s colour. That’s all I’m interested in.’

‘Did Scott tell you himself that Karen have gone back with her parents?’ Linda asked when she phoned half an hour later.

‘He did. I hope they can work things out. I suggested Relate. But that’s up to them. My job is the one you asked me to do. Now, about that ...’

‘Dear life!’ Linda gasped when Jess finished telling her what she had learned. ‘So that’s how Father would never talk about what he done in the war. He used to say “least said, soonest mended.”’

‘I’ve printed a copy of the photo I found of him and the rest of his group and put it in the folder I’ll give you when I’ve finished. About Billy-Joe, I’ve still got to look into his mother’s side of the family. I’ll also take a closer look at your mother’s ancestry.’

‘What do you think you’ll find?’

‘I have no idea. That’s what’s so fascinating.’

‘You go on and do it, my bird. Just be sure to tell me if you come up with anything.’

‘I promise you’ll be the first to know.’

Jess went back to her laptop. Two hours later, her neck was stiff and a headache throbbed at the base of her skull. She arched her back, stretched her arms above her head, and winced at the clicks and crunches from her spine.

She saved her work and smiled with pleasure and a sense of achievement as she looked at the rough plan she had drawn.

Billy-Joe’s mother, Ellen Vickery, had been born in 1898, one of five children. Her parents were John Vickery and his wife Sarah Barnes. John Vickery was the son of James Vickery and Amity Smith. And James was the son of slave Ann Vickery and her master Thomas Ryerson, and the brother of Elizabeth Ann Vickery. Which meant that Billy Joe’s parents were distant cousins descended from a common ancestor – Ann Vickery.

Might that link explain the sudden reappearance of the black gene? That would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now all she wanted was a shower, a snack, and her bed.

––––––––

I
t was almost six on Tuesday evening when a movement outside caught Jess’s eye. She glanced through the window and saw Tom walking up the path with Ben Spargo.

She had the door open as they reached the step. ‘Hello, this is a surprise.’

‘Ben have got trouble,’ Tom kept his voice low. Glancing at Ben, Jess saw that beneath his outdoor tan he looked pale and shocked. He held a folded envelope in his gnarled fist.

‘Come in.’ Standing back, Jess closed the door behind them. ‘Sit down, both of you. The kettle’s just boiled.’

Minutes later she set mugs of tea in front of them and sat down opposite. ‘What’s happened?’

Ben thrust the envelope at her, his hand shaking. ‘Come in the morning post it did. Annie left it on the table for me. Soon as I read it –’ Ben gulped and cleared his throat.

‘He rang me,’ Tom explained.

‘I couldn’t say nothing to Father. What am I gonna do? How can I tell Mor? Break her heart it will.’ Ben’s voice broke.

‘Drink your tea,’ Tom urged.

As Jess took the envelope her heart gave a sharp kick when she saw the postal frank of Gover Landry, the law firm where her solicitor, Richard Banham, was a partner. Just seeing the name triggered unhappy memories. Shoving them into the past where they belonged, she pulled out the folded letter, opened it, and read.

The firm had recently taken over the business of Grey, Barton and Edwards when Arthur Grey, the sole surviving partner, had retired. While examining past and current files in preparation for uploading them on to computer, a number of misfiles and incomplete processes had been discovered. Mr Spargo’s divorce was among them. Though the decree nisi had been granted, the decree absolute had not been applied for. Until that was granted, Mr Spargo was still married to his wife, Michelle. Would Mr Spargo please phone at his earliest convenience? The letter was signed George Rendall.

Jess looked up. ‘Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry.’

‘It don’t make sense.’ He shrugged but the rush of colour to his face and the glitter in his eyes told Jess he was close to tears. ‘Mr Grey gave me a paper. Near enough twenty year ago this was. He called it a decree something –’

‘Decree nisi,’ Tom murmured.

‘That’s it,’ Ben nodded. ‘He said it meant the marriage was as good as over. There wasn’t no property to sell because we’d been renting Aggie Hooper’s cottage out the end of Back Row. We each took our own belongings and divided up what we’d bought together which wasn’t much. I couldn’t afford the rent by meself so I moved back home with Mother and Father.’

He coughed and Jess guessed his throat was tight with panic and tears. She knew how that felt. ‘I know I got to tell Mor,’ his voice wobbled. ‘But she’ve only just got over the disappointment of not being able to have the wedding in the chapel. That’s how I didn’t say nothing when she arrived to sit with Father so I could go choir practice.’

‘Don’t tell her tonight,’ Jess advised.

‘Mor’s no fool. I left soon as she come to sit with Father. But I aren’t no good at pretending. She’ll know something’s wrong the minute I walk back in.’