Death is a Word by Hazel Holt Read Free Book Online

but
his
father came from round here and I’d really like to know about them.’
    ‘And there are so many ways you can find out,’ Alison broke in. ‘All those places on the Internet – not that I’ve ever been able to make head or tail of computers – Maurice looks after that side of things!’
    ‘I think I might give it a go,’ Eva said. ‘And my mother’s family too. Her maiden name was Lydia Castel – quite an unusual name, which might help.’
    ‘Oh do!’ Alison said enthusiastically. ‘And you must let us know how you get on. Who knows what you might find, though perhaps you might not want to know – all those people on television discovering their ancestors were murderers or ended up in the workhouse. I always say—’
    ‘Alison,’ Maurice Shelby broke in, ‘we really should be going. I’m expecting an important call and I need to be home to take it.’
    ‘Yes, of course, dear, I’ll just get my coat – I took it off when I came in, the room was so hot. I
think
I left it in the lobby.’
    Her husband raised his eyebrows slightly but made no comment, following his wife who was still wondering where she might have left her coat.
    ‘Have you ever investigated your family?’ I asked Donald Webster, who had been to the talk – sitting next to Eva and deep in conversation with her asusual, which had caused Maureen to give me what she would have called one of her Looks.
    ‘No,’ he replied. ‘My family lived in Zimbabwe for several generations, when it was Rhodesia, that is. They were farmers and left when things got difficult over there. So there wouldn’t be any records here.’
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘It must have been awful.’
    ‘I’d already left by then. Off to get a job that would let me see the world.’
    ‘I suppose you might be able to find your more remote ancestors,’ I suggested. ‘You know, before they went to Africa.’
    ‘That might be fun,’ Eva said, ‘we could tackle all those websites together. I’m sure you’re better at that sort of thing than I am.’
    ‘I’d be delighted to give you a hand,’ he said, ‘but I’m not sure I want to investigate my lot. Like Alison said, you never know what you might find!’
     
    I didn’t see Eva for a while to find out how she got on. I had a difficult review article to write about a book written by a friend which, while full of excellent research, I found almost totally unreadable. So I shut myself away to wrestle with it.
    When I emerged, I asked Rosemary how Eva was.
    ‘I saw her yesterday,’ Rosemary said. ‘She certainly seems very absorbed with this genealogy thing.’
    ‘Has she made any progress?’
    ‘Not really. She says it’s all very complicated, going through endless census things, especially when you don’t have much to go on.’
    ‘She never asked her mother about the family?’
    ‘No, well, you don’t, do you? You think they’ll always be there, and by the time you want to ask, it’s too late.’
    ‘I don’t really remember much about her, do you?’
    ‘Not a lot. Well, with Eva away at school I only saw her parents occasionally in the holidays, and my parents didn’t see them often. Mother quite liked Uncle Richard (in spite of his being an Australian) but she didn’t approve of Aunt Lydia (I always called them Aunt and Uncle, though of course they weren’t) for some reason, I can’t remember the ins and outs of it – you know what Mother’s like, it’s usually something quite irrational.’
    ‘I only met them a couple of times. I remember being impressed by the fact that he was the first Australian I’d ever met – an interesting man, and she was very nice, very warm and friendly. And I’d never known anyone called Lydia before. It’s an unusual name, though I suppose it might be a family name. Oh well, I suppose Eva may find out – that is, unless she finds it all too difficult and gives up.’
    ‘Not with Donald Webster round there urging her on.’
    ‘Oh, I