CHAPTER EIGHT
CRISTY: ‘OK, Sadie, can you talk us through what you have there?’
SADIE: ‘Of course. I’ll be glad to.’
In spite of the bravado in her voice, Sadie hesitated, and took a deep, slightly shaky breath.
Jasper was at the small dining table next to her, his treacle-coloured hair slick to his head, his handsome but unshaven face showing his concern.
They were at his parents’ weekend retreat near Bradford-on-Avon, a converted stable block with far-reaching views of the countryside and so much olde-worlde charm it was like being in a cosy antique shop.
Cristy watched them quietly, sensing their connection, understanding Sadie’s uncertainty as well as her gratitude for his support. This wasn’t going to be easy for her, Cristy knew she’d be having difficulties too in her shoes, but Sadie had insisted on going through with the recording.
Eventually, she laid her hands on the box file in front of her and began to describe it.
SADIE: ‘There’s a label on the front that says: “Sadie’s Things”. The writing is quite faded, as though it was written a long time ago, and the label itself is peeling at the corners.
‘It smells a little old and musty, but the contents are mostly intact. There’s a toy rabbit; a star-shaped hair slide; a Barbie doll wearing a pink gingham dress; a tiny pair of ballet shoes, and six photographs.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you recognize any of these items?’
SADIE: ‘I can’t say I do, but as you can see each of the photographs features a little girl who I’m guessing could be me, aged one or maybe slightly older. Not much more than a baby, anyway.’
CRISTY: ‘Are they the photos that were around your house when you were growing up? The ones you were told were of you and your parents?’
SADIE: ‘No, they’re not. These are quite different.’
CRISTY: ‘Tell us about who’s in them.’
SADIE: ‘There’s a woman who’s probably early- to mid-twenties … She has shoulder-length, thick blonde hair and she looks, well, kind of like me. I mean, me now, not in the photos. Would you agree?’
CRISTY: ‘Yes, I would.’
Sadie’s relief and gratitude showed in a smile.
SADIE: ‘I have to tell you, it makes me feel quite … I don’t know, strange, when I look at her, like I’m being transported out of myself, or something.
I mean, if she is my mother … and it’s hard to think she isn’t given how alike we are …
I can’t stop wondering why we’re not together when here, the way she’s holding me … ’
Cristy paused as Sadie dabbed away a tear, understanding perfectly why she was finding this so upsetting. The photographs quite clearly showed a young mother who adored her child.
CRISTY: ‘Can you tell us a bit more about what we’re seeing in the photos?’
SADIE: (picking them up one by one) ‘In this one she – the woman – is wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that has some writing on the front, but it’s not possible to make out what it says.
She’s lying on the grass side by side with the child.
They’re holding hands and seem to be staring up at the sky …
There’s a shadow over them, from whoever took the photo. It looks like a man.’
She moved on to the next.
SADIE: ‘In this one she’s sitting up on her knees and the child is tucked in against her, their faces one above the other, and they’re laughing quite hard, clearly having so much fun.
‘In the third one … they’re pulling silly faces, tongues out, eyes pulled down … The next two are of the child fast asleep on somebody’s lap – you can only see the arms holding her, nothing to say who it is, but they’re masculine …
‘The last one is the child again, riding the shoulders of a young man who’s holding her legs and laughing up at her. He’s wearing a hat that partially obscures his face, but he has a lot of dark hair, and he’s laughing.’
Cristy watched as Sadie continued to gaze at the photos, taking them in and presumably remembering how she’d had a memory of a man in a hat.
CRISTY: ‘So you think these two people are your parents?’
Sadie nodded, before remembering she needed to speak.
SADIE: ‘Yes, that is what I think.’
CRISTY: ‘And since finding these photos … Have they jogged any memories for you?’
SADIE: ‘Well, as I said before, I have an image of a man in a hat, and of him – I think it was the same man – riding a bicycle with me on the crossbar, and I’m sure I remember being on some sort of carousel.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you recall anything particular about the woman?’
SADIE: ‘I didn’t at first, but then I … I think I remember playing with her hair and getting it all tangled up in a brush.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you have any thoughts on where you might have been at the time any of these photos were taken?’
SADIE: ‘I’m afraid not. Something I remember though, oddly, is a clothes horse full of fresh laundry, and a garden with toys … Swings, a trampoline, that sort of thing. There was a big house nearby, or maybe it just seemed big to me …’
CRISTY: ‘There’s something else in the box you’ve brought today. Something of huge significance. Do you mind telling us about it?’
Sadie reached for a single, folded sheet of paper, straightened it, and cleared her throat a couple of times.
SADIE: ‘I’m sorry, it’s still making me quite emotional …’
CRISTY: ‘It’s OK. Just take your time.’
Sadie glanced at Jasper and closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. Seeming to take strength from it, Sadie straightened as she began to speak.
SADIE: ‘I believe this is the note that was found in my pocket after my aunt brought me in from the beach. It says, “Her name is Sasha, she will be two years old on May 14th. I know you are good people. Please take care of her until I can come back for her.”’
Cristy allowed a few moments to pass, giving Sadie time to decide when she was ready to continue.
SADIE: ‘It’s really strange to think I could be looking at my mother’s handwriting. It makes her seem … real, in a way she didn’t before. I keep wondering what was going through her mind when she wrote it. What, or who, could have made her give me up?’
Sadie put the note down, and sounded almost impatient as she said, ‘Wallowing in questions I can’t possibly answer isn’t going to get us anywhere.’
Her tone, her frustration, belied the lost and bewildered look in her eyes.
Feeling for her, Cristy continued gently.
CRISTY: ‘Do you think she and your aunts ever met?’
SADIE: ‘Obviously, it’s possible.’
Sadie’s eyes dropped to Cristy’s recorder and stayed there.
‘Would you like me to stop?’ Cristy offered.
She shook her head and looked up again.
SADIE: ‘You’re going to ask me if I’ve shown any of this to Mia.’
CRISTY: ‘Have you?’
SADIE: ‘No.’
When Sadie didn’t elaborate Cristy glanced at Jasper who raised a hand in a small gesture, seeming to advise giving her more time.
SADIE: ‘I’m going to show it to her, obviously. I have to now I’ve told you about it. I guess I’m just really nervous about what she’s going to say. How she’s going to explain it.’
JASPER: ‘What we really want to know is when the aunts received all these things – we know the note was in two-year-old Sadie’s coat pocket, but when did the photos and everything else turn up? And why did they keep it and never show it to Sades?’
SADIE: ‘I think – but I have no way of knowing of course – that these photos might have been in the envelope that was posted through the front door that morning.’
CRISTY: ‘If you’re right, we know, at least according to Lottie’s writings, there was no note with them, so what kind of message do you think they were supposed to send?’
SADIE: ‘Maybe they were to let my aunts know that I came from a loving home … But how loving could it have been for them to have just left me on a beach?’
JASPER: ‘We’ve wondered if sending the photographs was meant to keep Sadie’s parents alive for her. Special moments captured on film for her to treasure until they came back.’
SADIE: ‘But they never did come back.’
JASPER: ‘At least not that we know of.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you have any idea yet when the toys might have turned up?’
SADIE: ‘No, but there’s nothing to say they actually came from my parents. For all I know they’re small things that Lottie or Mia might have bought for me and put into the box when I outgrew them.’
CRISTY: ‘But the fact they’re with the photographs …’
SADIE: ‘Leads us to believe they’re part of what’s long been held back from me. It’s true.’
CRISTY: ‘OK. Let’s talk for a moment about the photos you remember being displayed around the house. The ones you were told were of you and your parents. Who do you now think they might have been of?’
SADIE: ‘It’s a good question. I wondered at first if it was one of my aunts as a child with their parents, but there are albums of photos from that time in our library and they’re obviously from a different era. Anyway, they’re clearly not the same people.’
JASPER: ‘It’s possible to buy historical family shots like that. Film and TV companies use them all the time.’
CRISTY: ‘Couldn’t the same be said of the photos we’re looking at now?’
SADIE: ‘Of course, but you’ve admitted yourself how much I’m like the woman, and I definitely remember a man in a hat.’
CRISTY: ‘Where did you actually find these photos? I know they were in this box …’
SADIE: ‘… which was under the daybed in Lottie’s sitting room, inside a suitcase full of old postcards and letters from the children Lottie used to sponsor in various parts of the world.’
Seeming to lose interest in that, Sadie picked up the handwritten note again and stared at it for some time before continuing.
SADIE: ‘Why didn’t anyone come back for me?’
JASPER: ‘Maybe they did, but your aunts had already taken you to Guernsey by then.’
SADIE: ‘It surely wouldn’t have been that hard to track them down, if someone really wanted to.’
Though they were still recording, Cristy’s next comment wasn’t really meant for the pod. ‘Until you speak to your aunt we’re not likely to have any answers to these questions …’