Lost Girl: Julie's Story Ch. 03 Pt. 01

She paused for a second.

"She also found a request from Croydon University Hospital for her records. They were requested by the Ante-Natal unit there, so I'm guessing your girl probably had a baby there, the ages are about right; she was thirteen when she was treated at George's, and almost 21 when her records were requested, so she'd be 23 or so now. Does that sound right?"

I thanked Georgie for her help, but she passed it off as nothing.

"If that doesn't pan-out, call Teddi Akonwande at Croydon Univ Hospital and give her my name; she's the Paediatric Registrar there, and she's a nice girl, a very nice girl, she should be able to dig something up on the QT."

I couldn't resist it.

"So Georgie, were you and this Teddi ever...?"

I could hear the grin in her voice.

"Many, many times, Dar, as you well know, you grubby little voyeur; I like to keep my bow well-strung, and she knows which bits to pluck..."

I feigned shock.

"You are such a dirty girl! There are places for people like you! Thanks for the assist, Georgie, I knew you'd come through for me."

"Glad to help, Dar, you and that yummy little wife of yours! If you really want to thank someone, send mum a box of cherry liqueurs and a bottle of Tokay, she did all the work, or you could send Lena over...?" she finished hopefully.

I laughed and rang-off, and a few seconds later my phone beeped as a text arrived. When I opened it, it listed the address Mrs. Patterson had found, which came as a slight shock; I knew that road, I knew it well; it was only a short drive from Tooting Broadway, where I'd lived as a medical student; I used to park on that road when I went to 'The Windmill' pub at Clapham Common some evenings! To think, I might even have walked past Julie, or her brother, once, or maybe dozens of times. I was almost humming with excitement; all I could think was that we might have just made a breakthrough...

It was late the following afternoon before I had a chance to call Emma and ask her to come over, what with kids, meals, hunting for lost pacifiers, and generally trying to restore order to the turmoil and chaos that results when a three year-old boy and a toddler live with you, and require you have three pairs of eyes and reserve 500% of your time free solely for them; having mum there was a Godsend; the kids love their nana, so they mob her instead, leaving Lena time to shop, clear-up, clean, cook, do laundry, and try and have a rest in the midst of it all.

Emma lives in a place called Sea Mills, on the outskirts of Bristol, so it took her an hour or so in the Saturday traffic to get to us, but when I told her what Georgie had told me, and showed her the address she'd sent me, she was almost jumping with excitement; the last time she'd gone to London to try and find Julie and Mark, she'd gone to their old address in Acton; the address I now had was in Streatham, miles from there, in another part of London altogether.

She was all for charging off there immediately, but I had to decline; I wanted to spend my first free weekend in several weeks with Lena and the kids, so we compromised; the next free weekend I had, which would hopefully only be a couple of weeks away, we'd go together and knock on the door. Emma agreed, happy that we were finally following a real lead. Even if it came to nothing, at least we'd tried.

*

It took another two weeks before my conscience finally got the better of me; not that I was trying to dodge this or anything, it was just that we were still short-handed on the Surgical team, and I hadn't exactly objected too loudly when I was rostered-on to do additional shifts with the promise of time-off in lie. It was late June before I was able to take that accumulated time-off, make some hotel reservations, and collect Emma for our fishing-trip to London, to see if the address I had from Georgie was still valid. Lena declined the trip; Mo-Mo was teething, and Lena wanted to be close to her, so it was just Emma and me who made the journey.

When I parked-up I looked around in wonder; I hadn't been here for over four years, but nothing had changed: same hedges and gates, same massive old London Plane trees lining the pavement, same huge red double-decker buses; it was like I'd never been away, and for a second, a wave of homesickness for London swept over me as the place that had been my home for almost seven years unfolded in my mind again.

We found the house easily enough, a large red-brick Victorian detached town-house, four storeys high, a sign of the affluence in days gone by of this part of London. At first I was reluctant to knock on the door, but common sense prevailed; wasn't this what we were here for? So I rapped on the door, and stood back, conscious that in a few seconds we'd find Julie, or discover we'd made the journey for nothing.

After a few seconds, the door opened, and there was a beautiful Eurasian girl, almost as tall as Lena, and a few years younger, pale-skinned and with long, curly, blue-black hair, and the most vividly blue eyes I'd ever seen, even more striking than my Lena's.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking quizzically at Emma, then, as her gaze fell on me, her eyes widened.

This was it, show time.

"I wonder if you can help me," I began. "I'm trying to locate a Julie Jameson; the last thing I know about her was that this was her address, but that was over ten years ago now; do you know of her, or perhaps have a forwarding address, anything like that?"

The girl looked me up and down, seemingly fascinated with me, and seemed to come to a decision.

"Please, come in and take a seat."

We filed in after her, and sat in the comfortable sitting room in the chairs she indicated.

"I'll need to get my mother; I'll only be a moment," she said, once more looking strangely at me. She was only gone for a few minutes, before she came back with a tiny Asian lady, Thai or Vietnamese, obviously her mother. She was carrying a tray with teapot, cups and saucers, and a plate piled high with warm brioche fingers. She smiled at us and sat down on an easy chair, perched on the edge as she looked intently at us.

"Please to have tea, drink, please, be careful, it hot. Eat, too, fresh brioche, I make just now, you have some, please!"

After the pouring of tea and a nibble of the really quite exquisite sweet brioche fingers, the Asian lady spoke to us again.

"My daughter tell me you looking for someone called Julie Jameson?" she ventured. "Why you come looking here? She not live here."

Emma and I exchanged glances, my expression probably as disappointed as that on Emma's face. I didn't know how much to say; I didn't want to go spilling stuff that had no relevance if Julie didn't live here, but at the same time, I was picking up an odd undercurrent in the room. I got the distinct feeling these people knew Julie, and there was definitely something going on here. Once more I exchanged glances with Emma, who nodded slightly, so I began talking.

"My name is Darryl Morgan; Julie and her brother, Mark, are my cousins; their mother is the younger sister of my father, Robert Fraser. She moved away from Bristol, from the family home, and the family lost touch with her soon after Julie was born. Emma?"

Emma took up the story.

"Sandra, or Lois, as we called her, is my younger sister. She disappeared with her children after her marriage broke down. I came looking for her several times, but the place she lived in had been redeveloped, and there was no trace of her. Darryl here finally heard from one of his colleagues that a girl called Julie Jameson had once been treated for a concussion at the local hospital, and this was the contact address given. We were hoping it was my niece; the age is correct, and the next of kin was listed as Mark Jameson, so we put those together and came here to ask if you knew anything about her whereabouts. Can you help us at all please?"

All the time Emma was speaking, the Asian lady was looking intently at me, studying my features. When Emma had finished speaking, she spoke directly to me.

"If you find cousin, if you find...Julie, what you say to her? If she not know about family, like you say, why you want to maybe turn her life upside down? Maybe she happy, maybe she not want to know about family?"

Emma chose to answer her.

"We just want to know that she and Mark are OK, nothing more; a long time ago, I tried to persuade Sandra to let me take the two of them home with me, I was afraid of what might happen to them; I couldn't get her to give them up, and I've been haunted ever since by the possibility that she'd somehow hurt them; she was capable of doing it, too, and I've always believed I didn't do enough to safeguard those two little children!"

She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes; the Asian lady's eyes seemed to soften, and she smiled at Emma.

"Maybe they OK, maybe they have family now who take care of them, maybe you have nothing to worry about?"

My ears pricked up; this lady knew Julie, she knew her and she was protecting her! Emma seemed to have picked up on that as well; her eyes narrowed as she studied this tiny little woman in front of us. She swiped at her eyes once more and smiled wanly.

"I hope so, really; I just wish I knew for sure. Julie was such a lovely little baby, she had the most beautiful green eyes, and Mark, he was such a serious, sweet little boy, he loved his sister so much; even though she was my sister, and I loved her dearly, neither of them deserved to have Sandra for a mother, she had no time or love for either of them. She was so vindictive, and so angry with them for what their fathers did; that's why I tried to take them away. Perhaps if I'd tried harder we wouldn't have lost them so long ago!"

The Asian lady and her daughter both stood up, looking at Emma sympathetically.

"We not know this Julie Jameson, but we ask around; if you say this her address once, perhaps other neighbours know; we ask them. You leave number with my daughter. If we hear anything, she or her husband call you; you not worry, I very sure you find her, it just take time! You look like kind people, so my daughter and me we do whatever we can to help you!"

They showed us to the door, and as we were leaving the Asian lady took my elbow and drew me away a little.

"You not worry; I think Julie fine, I think she happy, and maybe...maybe she look for you too; if I hear anything I let you know, I promise!"

I looked at her, at the twinkle in her eye, and once again I got the feeling she knew more than she was telling me, but was holding back for reasons of her own.

"How do you know...?" I whispered, and she smiled at me, no she twinkled at me, suddenly looking no older than her daughter.

"I not know, just guessing, but you know what? I am very good guesser!"

With that we made to leave, then I remembered something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name..."

She smiled at me, and linked arms with her daughter.

"My name Anh; Anh Morrison, this my daughter Nia; do not worry, when we hear something, we let you know. I think everything be OK!"

*

JULIE:

Well, my trip to Bristol was a bust; while Mark worked, I wearily trudged the streets in the rain and snow...actually, it was mid-summer and I went everywhere by cab, but the net result was 'almost'; that was as good as it got; 'almost'.

The people at Southmead Hospital had been very helpful; once I'd proven to them that the person I was trying to track, given names Sandra Lois *unknown*, was in fact dead, and I had a copy of the Death Certificate to back up my claim, they'd gone and had a rummage through their records archive and found the record; same first names, same date of birth, it all matched. Mum was born Sandra Lois Fraser, and the family had lived in Clifton; there was even an address.

Armed with that, I went back to the council offices, and had a look through the Census returns for the Fraser family at that address, and that's where I finally struck gold; mum had been one of four children; she had an older brother, Robert, an older sister, Emma, and a younger sister, Ellen.

I found the address in Clifton; of course, it had to be around the corner from the hotel where we were staying, and two minute's walk from Mark's office; I'd gone chasing off into the furthest, remotest reaches of Bristol, and all the time the place I wanted was spitting distance from my hotel room; it's the story of my life, really...

I'd gone to the address, a large, elegant Georgian townhouse in the middle of a long terrace in the Regency part of Clifton. The lady who answered was very nice, but wasn't a family member; all she knew was that her parents had bought the house from the Fraser family after the death of the parents, she didn't have any forwarding addresses for the children; her parents might have done, but they'd passed on several years before.

She'd suggested the family a few doors down might know, they'd been there donkey's years, so I tried there, but there was no answer. I peered in the window, into a rather elegant sitting room; clearly a family with young children lived there; baby toys were scattered on the chairs and on the carpet, and a baby-bouncer was tucked in the corner. The name on the doorbell was 'Morgan', but repeated ringing brought no response.

So that avenue was a dead-end. I went down to the Council House on College Green and requested the Electoral Roll, hoping I might spot a Fraser family member, but that was a forlorn hope; the sisters would most likely have married, and with the best will in the world I couldn't possible divine their married names.

There were several dozen Frasers, including a few Robert Fraser's listed, but all the wrong age entirely, scattered all over Bristol, and I had neither the time, resources, or patience to go knocking on all their doors in the hope I might strike it lucky.

There was one odd incident, however; I was walking back to the hotel, and decided on a whim to go and have a wander through the lovely medieval cathedral on the South side of College Green, so cut across the Green and walked past the Marriott Hotel, which was next to the cathedral. A man in a chef's whites was talking with a delivery van driver on the pavement. As I passed him, our eyes met. He stared at me like he'd seen a ghost, and I distinctly heard him breathe "Emma!", then I lost sight of him as a crowd of Cathedral Choir School boys surged past me, all of them much taller than me, completely blocking my view of the chef as they hurried back into the school precincts before the end of their lunch break.

I darted back to the front of the hotel, sure I'd almost caught a break, but he was gone; he'd called me 'Emma', and I knew that name; Emma Fraser, my mother's older sister, my aunt...

I gave up in disgust; I'd tried; Lord knows, I'd given it the old college try, and come up zero, except for an 'almost'; perhaps there really was nothing here. Wherever mum's family had lived, they weren't there now, and no-one knew of their whereabouts, so time to call it a day and quit bending Mark's ear about it.

It was sad and deflating; I'd built up quite the fantasy, of a family who knew nothing about us, but welcomed their long-lost relatives with open arms; letting that go was a wrench, but it was nothing but fantasy, after all, just me trying to make a passing fancy real.

When we got back home, Mark was especially solicitous; he knew I'd built this up in my head into the grand family reunion, and now it wasn't going to happen, so for the next few days he spent every spare moment hugging me and nibbling my ears and neck, something he knows I love, as I worked my way through the disappointment, although I was puzzled why I felt so let-down; as Mark had pointed out, we had a place we belonged, with family who loved and cared about us.

I suppose ultimately I needed to know there was someone else out there who shared actual kinship with us, that we weren't the only members of our entire family, whoever they might be.

But I had to let it go; mum's family, whoever and wherever they were, were untraceable, probably long gone, and we were the last of the Fraser clan left for all I knew. So I let it go, and consoled myself with the thought that Mark was right; we had family enough right here, people we loved, and who loved us right back, and that, apart from that tiny nugget of disappointment inside me, was enough for me; it had to be.

And then things started to happen...

A few days after my Bristol trip, Mummy-Anh came to see me, to take the children out for a walk, then back to her place for some quality time with her and Dada Morrison, or so she claimed, but I could tell she had something on her mind, and after cooing and cuddling Nia, and tickling and kissing Markie soundly, she put them down and rubbed their tummies and murmured softly to them until they both fell asleep, which I thought was odd, if she was going to take them out.

Once the kids were asleep, she beckoned me into the dining room, leaving the door open so she could see the babies asleep on the couch, and sat me down at the table.

"Julie, what you know about family, your family, not ác ngu ngoc me, not stupid, evil mother, what you know about rest of family?"

I looked at her in surprise, wondering where this had come from. She knew I'd tried to find them in Bristol, that there was nothing to find, so why the questions? I told her what I knew, that mum had three siblings, an older brother and sister, and a younger sister, but there was nothing else, no clue where they were.

Mum looked thoughtful, her fingertips drumming softly on the table, her one sign of agitation, then she came to some kind of decision, her face carefully expressionless.

"Julie, you know I love you, yes? I love you, and Mark, you are my children, just like Jamie and Nia, your family my family, your children my babies too, and all I want is for you be happy. While you away, man come and see me; he tell me some things, and lady with him tell me more. He ask about you. He tell me his father name is Robert, and lady with him Emma; they say they your family; this mean anything to you?"

My heart slammed in my chest at hearing that; Robert and Emma, mum's brother and sister, Emma Fraser, she'd been here, oh my God, she'd been here! Questions bubbled up inside me, foremost being why she'd waited to tell me. I managed to ask her, and she looked sad, but resolute.

"I want to call you, tell you, but Nia say no; Nia tell me you family hurt you so much, we not know if they hurt you more, so Nia say we wait until we know more. I cannot do that; Nia your sister, she love you like sister, and she protect you, like sister should, but she wrong, this not her decision, so I tell you, let you make up mind for self. I have telephone number, have name, if you want, I give them to you, and when you decide, I be there with you; you my daughter, I will not let you be alone now!"

My head was spinning; my family had come looking for me? Who were these people, and why now, after all these years? Mummy-Anh slid closer and hugged me.

"Lady who come, she tell me she has been looking for you for many year; you were baby last time she see you; she try and take you away from you mother, she know what mother like, she try and take you and Mark, but not succeed; next time she come back, sister gone, you gone, all gone, she cannot find you, not know where family gone, she not know where to look; London big place, maybe you not even here. She look like you mother, but nice, have good smile, and your eyes; man with her, he have your eyes too, he look so much like Mark I know he your family. He have friends at hospital, follow trail after you mother hurt you. I have good feeling about them; I think they look for you because you their family, not because they want hurt you, so I come here today to tell you!"