Chapter 19 #2
‘Sounds like a prick.’ Dan’s hands grip the wheel now and I see the white of his knuckles.
‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘But I have a plan now to text him a few home truths, then block him.’
‘You know what I do when things like that happen to me? When a past life sounds complicated in my head?’ Dan pulls up at a red light, his leg stretched out as he hits the brake. He’s definitely changing the subject for me.
‘What?’ I sigh but only slightly.
‘I turn off the complications in my mind and listen to music.’
Dan turns the dial and the familiar soft beats of ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! play out. Dan drums those long fingers on the steering wheel as he hums along. I feel the weight of happiness wash over me. The connection with George Michael’s lyrics.
Dan sings them under his breath. Ain’t that the truth, I think, listening to the line about giving your heart away as we drive on through Heartwell village, past Cosy Reads and the library, past the organic market and the pub, past the post office, and just before we reach Heartwell Hall, Dan pulls the jeep up outside a small cream brick building to the side. But he doesn’t kill the engine.
‘Here you go. I’ve a few errands to run that Terry reminded me of when you were getting your coat but Marina is expecting you.’ He revs the engine gently.
‘Oh? You’re not coming in?’ My disappointment that he’s leaving rings through in my voice.
‘I’ll be back shortly, I’ve a bit of business at Heartwell Hall first.’ And with that I step out and he drives away again, his aura lingering all over me.
What is it about him? I ask myself for the umpteenth time.
It’s how I feel when I’m with him, I recognise as a large group of carol singers set up in the square.
He makes me feel good. He makes me feel so alive.
He makes me feel confident and I’ve never felt that way before, I think.
Plus, I’ve never been as physically attracted to a man as I am to him. Ever.
‘Oh, this is getting heavier. I don’t ever want to leave him but I have to!’ I mutter before I push open the door and walk in.
* * *
Two hours later, in the genealogy archives room, I’m utterly mesmerised as I sit at an old school desk, complete with a disused inkwell.
I’m still scanning the marriages and deaths in Dublin from the last hundred and fifty years with the Grace name.
My phone beeps in my pocket. I glance and it’s a message from Jill.
I slide it onto silent mode – I can read it later.
‘More water.’ Marina, a shapely woman in her thirties with a soft German accent and a wonderful warmness to her, puts the jug and a paper cup in front of me.
‘Thanks, Marina. God, it’s fascinating, isn’t it?’ I heave, winding my hair up into a top knot and securing it with an elastic band I’ve just found on the desk.
‘Totally,’ she agrees. ‘So I also found this, a birth certificate in Holles Street Hospital up in Dublin for a John Grace in 1879. I’d be pretty sure this is your great-great-grandfather, and this is his death certificate in Dublin in 1899.’
‘Stop! Oh, no way? Oh, he was so young? Too young to have a family surely?’ I fight for a breath, I’m so excited.
‘Four children, two sets of twins, I see. People married young in those days and with no contraception, well, you know yourself.’ Marina winks as she sits in beside me and begins clicking through documents, black and white slides rush past. ‘See, now I have the family. Look here? Tom Grace, Noel Grace, Brian Grace, Barry Grace, Phyllis Grace, Helena Grace, Mark Grace, Mandy Grace! John! John Grace.’ Marina’s nose is almost touching the screen.
‘Let me delve deeper . . .’ Marina hits various keys expertly.
‘Oh, this is wonderful, thank you.’ Biting my bottom lip, I feel strangely emotional about this whole thing. ‘I mean I aways knew I had Irish ancestors but seeing it in black and white is a whole different experience.’
‘So, we have a birth registered in Boston, a Lawrence Grace. Parents: John and Patricia Grace; and I see a birth in New York, a John Grace, parents: Lawrence Grace and Mary Grace.’
‘What was the date of birth?’ My hands shake as slowly I mouth my dad’s birthday at the same time Marina says it.
‘Oh my God.’ I flop back. ‘That’s him, that’s my dad’s birthday!’
‘Well now, that was quick!’ Marina clicks print and the printer whirrs to life, spitting out one of the most precious documents I could ever have and a sense of belonging I never knew I was actually craving. She hands me the page as I see Dan’s jeep pull up outside. Darkness has fallen now.
‘Anyway, I’ll need to search for your great-great-grandmother after the holidays.’ Marina stands up, tidies the desk. ‘I’m finally meeting Johan, the man I’ve been dating for a year.’
‘So I hear,’ I tell her.
‘We keep missing each other. You like to see?’
I’m nodding as I watch Dan hop down from the jeep. Marina brings up a photo on her phone of a handsome dark-skinned man in a tuxedo holding a glass of champagne.
‘This is Johan,’ Marina says with a goofy grin on her face, twirls her nose ring.
‘He’s gorgeous,’ I say as Dan swaggers on up the pathway. Just the way he walks makes me smile.
‘You must have made quite an impression on our Dan.’ Marina smirks, watching me watching him.
‘You think so?’ I ask her, clutching the page to my chest like it’s a precious diamond.
‘I do, he never takes a personal interest in the guests like this. You’re lucky, he’s quite the catch.’ Marina pats my leg. ‘Lady Grace has a nice ring to it, no?’
‘Hardly! I leave . . . in a few days so it can’t become a thing,’ I tell her, trying to sound far more matter of fact than I really feel.
‘Love always finds a way. I have been in love with Johan for over a year, we have never met. I will finally get to meet him on Christmas Eve. I know Giselle thinks he does not exist. She is a good friend, but I know she is mistaken.’
‘I’m sure she is. Just be careful. You seem like a smart woman.’ I put my hand on Marina’s.
‘So do you.’
‘I like Dan, Marina, a lot,’ I tell her. ‘An awful lot.’
‘Tell him,’ Marina urges as we both watch him get closer to the door.
‘I can’t . . .’ I whisper, ‘there’s no point.’