My team were smashing it out of the park. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Joyce, Val and Mr Yin – and the others – I’d have abandoned the mural altogether. It just seemed such a big job, and impossible to even start. But the residents had given it some extra oomph and then they’d kept things going and they wouldn’t let me give up.
‘Ta-da!’ Joyce said, when I got to Tall Trees a few days later. She handed me the new book and I looked in astonishment at the pages, which weren’t yet filled but weren’t nearly as empty as they had been.
‘How on earth did you do this?’ I asked, flicking through. ‘This is wonderful.’
Joyce giggled. ‘We decided to fight fire with fire.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘We started our own rumours about the book.’
‘What kind of rumours?’
Joyce exchanged a mischievous glance with Val. ‘I heard some celebrities were writing in it,’ she said, her face the picture of innocence.
‘That Richard Osman from Pointless wrote a message, you know,’ Val said. ‘And that lovely Gary Lineker.’
‘Gary Lineker?’ I scoffed.
‘You’d be amazed who wanted to see if the rumours were true,’ Joyce said. She lowered her voice. ‘Kenny was first in the queue after we spread that one. And of course, once they had the book, then it made sense for them to write their own.’
‘Especially when they heard that there would be a cash prize for the most heartfelt entries,’ Mr Yin said, totally straight-faced. ‘And that a television crew were thinking about making a documentary about it.’
‘A documentary?’ I was almost speechless with the cheek of them.
‘For Netflix,’ Val said in triumph and the three of them collapsed in giggles.
‘I can’t say I approve of your methods, but the results are impressive,’ I said, leafing through the pages and admiring the many messages inside. ‘I owe you. Maybe I’ll add you all to the mural.’
All three of them looked thrilled at the idea. ‘Us?’ said Mr Yin. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, why not?’ I said. I nodded, thinking. It wouldn’t be hard to include some of the residents. I already had an idea about how to fit them in. Though perhaps I should include them all – even grumpy Helen. I didn’t want to annoy anyone.
‘So now you just have to paint the mural,’ Joyce pointed out. ‘We can’t help with that bit.’
‘When’s the scaffolding coming?’ Mr Yin asked.
I made a face. ‘I’ve not got a date yet. I keep chasing but they’re dragging their heels a bit.’
‘And when does the mural need to be done by?’
I groaned. ‘The council have planned a big unveiling at the end of next month.’
‘Next month?’ Joyce raised an eyebrow. ‘We’d better get on with it then.’ She called over to where Kenny sat in the corner of the lounge. ‘Didn’t you have a building company, Ken?’
‘I did indeed. My grandson Kyle runs it now.’
‘Can you get Stephanie some scaffolding.’
‘Course.’
‘Today?’
Kenny looked at his watch. ‘Today might be pushing it but I reckon I can get it for tomorrow. Would that work for you, Stephanie?’
I stared at him. ‘That would be amazing.’
‘Consider it done, love. I’ll go and give him a call now.’ He grinned at me, as he pulled himself up out of his chair. ‘Oh, and I wrote in that book of yours. Just a few instructions for Kyle and that.’
‘Great,’ I said, giving the others an amused glance. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s a good idea.’
‘It is.’
He shuffled off looking pleased with himself.
‘What else do you need?’ Joyce said. ‘Paint?’
‘I’ve got all that.’
‘And the design’s finished?’
‘It is.’
‘So you just need to get cracking.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Get on with it then.’
‘Well, I really need to wait for the scaffolding.’
‘There must be something else you can do in the meantime,’ Val pointed out. ‘Have you found Elsie?’
‘No.’
She tutted in a way that made me feel like I’d let her down.
‘And have you heard from Finn?’
‘No.’ My heart jumped at the mention of his name and I wanted to squirm with the guilt and sadness that thinking about him brought. ‘I really don’t think there’s anything I can do about that. I really messed it up.’
‘You should write him a message, like Elsie did for her fella,’ Joyce said.
‘I did.’
She looked chuffed.
‘But that was before I made a total arse of everything.’
‘Well, why not write him another one?’
‘He wouldn’t even see it.’
‘He would if you put it on the mural.’ Joyce looked triumphant. ‘Write it in letters six feet high. He won’t be able to miss it.’
I laughed, but it was a sad laugh. ‘I’m not sure there’s much point.’
‘How far did you get when you were trying to track down Elsie’s mystery man?’ Mr Yin asked, a frown on his face.
‘Not far. We found his name and that’s it really.’ I swallowed. ‘Finn was going to look him up. I’m at a bit of a loss now. It seems I don’t have the skills for historical research. Finn was the one who was doing it really.’
Val looked at me with her sharp eyes. ‘Maybe this could be a way for you to make things up with him?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, if you find out what happened to Elsie, you could give him that knowledge as a kind of present.’ She nodded, thinking things through. ‘Have you invited Finn to the launch?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I think you should.’
‘I think you should mind your own beeswax,’ I said only half-joking. Val made a face at me.
‘This whole thing’s about not leaving it too late to say the things that matter,’ she pointed out. ‘And here’s you, doing exactly that.’
I scowled at her, knowing she was right.
‘What do you know so far?’ Joyce said, clearly wanting us to stop bickering. ‘Start from the beginning.’
I settled back in my chair. ‘Elsie was a nurse here, before the war and then through the Blitz. But she disappears from records, around the time of the bomb that hit this building.’
‘She wasn’t killed in the bomb?’ Mr Yin frowned.
I shook my head. ‘Her employment record says she left the hospital in 1941 and we couldn’t find a death certificate.’
‘Was the building badly damaged?’
‘Part of it. Where the new wing is now. Lots of the patients were moved to other hospitals nearby and many of the staff went too.’ I took a breath. ‘And that’s when Elsie must have left.’
‘But you don’t know where she went?’
I shook my head.
‘Was she reported missing?’ Joyce asked.
‘No, not as far as I know. But I don’t think she had much family.’ I bit my lip. ‘She had a brother who died in the war.’
‘And what about her chap? The one who saved the seagull?’ Val leaned forward. ‘What have you found out about him?’
‘Bits and bobs,’ I said. I filled them in on Harry and how he’d gone to Ireland at the end of the war. For some reason I didn’t mention the odd writing in the back of the book. The messages saying “kill me” and the sad note begging “Mammy” not to cry. I felt like I would be betraying Elsie by sharing those, though I didn’t really know why.
‘Why Ireland?’ Val said, jolting me out of my thoughts.
I shrugged. ‘We wondered if Elsie had gone there during the Blitz and he’d gone to be with her at the end of the war.’ I screwed my nose up. ‘Could she have travelled anywhere though, in that time?’
‘Ireland was neutral in the war,’ Val said. ‘I’m not sure how easy it would have been to get there though.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ I was a bit ashamed of how little I had known about the war. ‘Anyway, Finn was going to look Harry up on some Irish genealogy sites. See if he could find his death certificate.’
‘You could look him up.’
‘I don’t know how.’
Joyce gave me a look that suggested she was terribly disappointed in me. ‘Have you never watched Who Do You Think You Are? on the television?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve never really been interested in history before now.’
She snorted. ‘It’s all online. Where’s your phone? Give it here.’
Obediently I handed it over and she took it then gave it back to me straightaway. ‘It’s far too fiddly for me, you do it. Search for Irish death certificates.’
I typed it in the search bar. ‘There are a few sites,’ I said, showing the others.
‘Just pick the top one,’ Val said impatiently.
I did as I was told. ‘I have to make an account.’
‘So make one.’
It took me a little while but eventually I managed to type Harry’s name into the search and bingo! It brought up a death certificate from 1985.
‘Here he is,’ I said in delight. ‘He died in Ireland.’
‘Does it say who registered the death?’ Joyce leaned over, trying to see. ‘When my Tony died I registered the death, so my name’s on his certificate.’
I turned my phone sideways and enlarged the picture. My heart began to pound. ‘It does,’ I said. ‘It says informant: Helen Byrne.’
‘Helen Byrne?’ Joyce looked bewildered. ‘But that’s our Helen’s name. Grumpy Helen. Does it say what connection she has with Harry?’
My head reeling, I nodded, slowly. ‘It says she’s his daughter.’