Page 25 of Wishes & Waves at the Cornish Bakery
‘Yes, he is.’ She nodded as she leaned back against the sofa cushions. It wasn’t even lunchtime, and yet she felt as though a whole week had passed since she’d walked out onto the cobbles from the bakery this morning.
‘Are you okay? You’ve had a lot to process this morning.’ Placing his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
‘I will be. I’m just not sure where to start when thinking things through at the moment.’ She closed her eyes. She could stay like this, nestled against him with his arm around her. She’d be more than happy. Life would be perfect. She wouldn’t have to go and speak to anyone else; she could live in blissful ignorance. But shedidwant to find her dad’s family, or at least a little more about him. She was just scared.
‘Here we go.’ Returning, Terry placed an old biscuit tin on the coffee table between the two sofas.
‘What’s that, Dad?’ Isaac frowned ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen that.’
‘No, you wouldn’t have, son.’ Sitting heavily back on the sofa, Terry lifted the lid of the tin to reveal a pile of papers. ‘These are things I’ve kept from when I was looking for my birth family. Or, more honestly, things your dear old mum kept. I would have happily thrown them away after I’d traced your grandma and grandad, but your mum, she said I should keep them, that they told a story.’
Taking his arm from her shoulders, Isaac leaned forward and picked up the top paper. ‘What is it?’
‘Notes. I wrote everything down back then. I’ve always had a terrible memory, that’s not my age. I didn’t want to forget anything in case some snippet of information turned into a clue.’ Leaning across the coffee table, Terry balanced his reading glasses on the end of his nose as Isaac turned the written side of the paper towards him. Taking it, Terry smiled. ‘Ah, they’re the directions to Cardiff.’
‘To Grandma and Grandad’s house?’ Isaac inched forward on the sofa and picked up another piece of paper.
‘That’s right. There were no Satnavs back then, of course, and I was always terrible at map reading, so me and your mum wrote down the directions.’ He chuckled. ‘No idea what we’d have done if we’d taken a wrong turn, mind.’
‘You’ve got so much in here.’ Isaac’s eyes widened as he pulled leaflets of bed-and-breakfasts, cafe receipts, and old newspapers from the tin.
‘Yes, a lot of old tat really, but your mum was right, it tells a journey, my journey to find my parents.’ Sliding the tin across the coffee table towards him, Terry began rifling through it. ‘Now, let me see if I can find it.’
‘What?’ Isaac, still looking through the papers he’d picked up, asked.
‘Some phone numbers. There are places you can call to ask for help in tracing people. It’s worth a go.’ Terry glanced across at Tilly. ‘Of course, your best bet is to go into the bay and ask around, knock on doors, but I’ll fish it out for you just in case your dad’s family have moved away.’
‘Thank you, that’d be great.’ Tilly smiled at him. He wasn’t the scary man she’d built him up to be in her head. In fact, the moment she and Isaac had stepped through the cottage, he’d apologised for his behaviour. Plus, it was really sweet of him to try to help her. She was beginning to think she needed all the help she could get. Yes, she was closer to finding out about her dad than she’d ever been, than she’d ever let herself believe she could be, but she still felt as though she had a long way to go.
‘Is this Grandma?’ Isaac held up a tiny black-and-white photo.
Terry’s face broke out into a grin. ‘Yes, that’s right. I was given this by the adoption agency.’
Hearing the ringtone of her phone, Tilly shifted position on the sofa and pulled out her mobile from her back pocket. Looking at the screen, she frowned. It was an unknown number. ‘I’m sorry, I’d better take this.’
‘No worries. I’ll keep on looking.’ Terry continued searching through the keepsakes.
Stepping into the kitchen, Tilly closed the door quietly behind her before answering the call. ‘Hello?’
‘Is this Tilly?’ A gruff voice sounded down the phone line.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ Tilly frowned. She recognised that voice, she just couldn’t place it.
‘It’s Mo. You came for breakfast this morning.’
Tilly smiled. Of course! What did he want? Had he remembered something? He’d taken her number so he and Liz could contact her if either of them thought of anything else. She gripped the edge of the work surface and answered him. Trying to keep all expectation out of her voice. ‘Hi, Mo.’
‘I’ve just spoken to Greg from the next farm along. He was saying Lockie, your dad, did some work for him too a few summers before...’ The phone line grew quiet. ‘You know.’
‘The accident?’ Tilly closed her eyes.
‘That’s it. Anyway, Greg said he’s pretty sure he used to live at number 64.’ Mo let out a deep sigh.
‘Number 64? Did he know what road or street name?’ Tilly gripped tighter, the jagged edge of the old work surface digging into her skin. Please, please. Please say Greg knew.
‘Ah, yes, that would help, wouldn’t it?’ The sound of paper shuffling followed. ‘Green Gardens Close. Number 64.’
‘Thank you.’ Opening her eyes, Tilly whispered. She had an address!
