“You all right?” Sydney asked.
“You’re going to want to come to the winter garden. Emma and I found something,” he said.
“What is it?” Sydney asked.
“Come and see,” he said.
“Okay, but bring it over the wall. I’m not up to climbing ladders today,” Sydney said.
“Will do.”
While he hung up, Emma replaced the photos and closed the lid. They lashed the box closed, and Henry climbed up and over to the top of the outside ladder. Emma threw him a rope she’d tied around the box, and he hauled it up as she climbed, using one hand to steady the box with every rung she took. When she reached the top, Henry climbed down, and she lowered it to him.
Emma was just coming down the outside ladder when Sydney strode up. “What did you find?”
Emma opened the box again and took out one of the photographs. “Do you know who these two are?”
Sydney frowned. “That’s my Great-Grandmother Diana, so that must be Granddad Robert.” Sydney began to sort through the photos, flipping them over as she went. “Here, look at this. Someone’s written ‘Robin, age three’ on the back.”
“There are so many baby pictures in here. Who would bury these?” asked Emma.
“There’s more in there,” said Henry.
Sydney collected up the photographs to set them aside, revealing what looked like the contents of a child’s toy box. A set of tin army men, a toy lorry, a couple of books, a pair of baby boots with a robin stitched onto each heel, a jumper…
“What is all of this stuff?” Sydney asked.
“Look, there’s an envelope,” said Emma.
Sydney opened it and pulled out several papers. On top was an official document with an application number at the top and Certified Copy of an Entry written in red across it:
Date and county of birth: 12 March 1939; Bristol
Name and surname of child: Robert REYNOLDS
Name and surname: Diana SYMONDS
Address: Highbury House, Highbury, Warwickshire
Occupation of parents of adopted child: Housewife
Date of adoption order: 16 November 1944
“This can’t be right,” said Sydney. “My grandfather wasn’t adopted. His name is in the family Bible in ink just above his father’s recorded death, and I just found his birth certificate earlier this year when I was going through his papers.”
But when Sydney shuffled to the next page, the adoption papers were clear as day.
“Who signed them?” Emma asked, pointing to the bottom.
“Diana Symonds, Stella Adderton—”
“And Beth Hastings?” Henry asked. “Why would my nan have been a witness?”
“You said she was a land girl near here. She must have known either Diana Symonds or this Stella. She must have been allowed on the grounds to do the sketches you showed me,” said Emma.
Sydney stared blankly into space. “I don’t understand.”
Emma watched Sydney turn on her heel and start back toward the house with the box in her hands. Emma and Henry glanced at each other and immediately followed.
Sydney hurried through the house, down the corridor, and into the library. They were right behind her when she went straight up to a large book on a carved wooden stand.
“This is the family Bible. It goes back seven generations on Helen Melcourt’s side.” Sydney flipped open the front cover and traced her finger down a page of handwritten names in various shades of black ink. “Here, Robert Symonds. That’s my grandfather.”
Henry peered over Sydney’s shoulder. “Born 14 May 1939.”
“The dates don’t match, Sydney,” said Emma quietly.
“But if Robert Reynolds was adopted, then who is this boy?” Sydney asked, jabbing a finger at the Robert in the family Bible.
“Henry, remember that sketch of your grandmother’s of the two boys under the tree?” Emma asked.
“You think that there were two boys here during the war. One was Robin and the other was Sydney’s grandfather, Robert,” said Henry, reading her mind.
“Yes. I have the sketch at Bow Cottage. I can get it,” said Emma gently.
“That would be good,” said Sydney quietly.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
Sydney crossed her hands over her stomach. “Why would Diana have had one son and adopted another only to never mention the first boy again? The only thing I can think is that Robin must have died.”
The three of them looked down at the photograph of three-year-old Robin.