The Marriage Certificate (32 page)

All three of them followed the flagstone path skirting the
outside of the church, until they reached the north-west corner. The boundary
wall ran quite close to the path at that point, so none of the headstones was
more than fifteen yards away. Peter volunteered to walk amongst them to see if
he could find what they were looking for. The grass underfoot was damp and
spongy and in no way suitable for the wheelchair. Some of the headstones were
difficult to read, either through erosion or from a covering of lichen. He’d
looked at about a dozen when the vicar reappeared, walking briskly towards
them, a piece of paper and a folder in his hand.

‘Rosetta Ince
is
buried here,’ he announced. ‘I’ve
got the plot number and the plan. We should be able to locate her grave.’

He stood and looked at the graves and then turned his plan
to match the layout on the ground. With Peter behind him, he paced carefully
between two rows and counted seven headstones, before swivelling left and
bending to inspect the one at which he’d stopped. Peter knelt beside him and
helped to rub off some of the moss. It was the correct headstone. Its
inscription said:
Rosetta Ince – Aged 27 years – Laid to rest 7th November
1902
.

Joan made her way over to the grave. Poor Margaret had to
remain in her chair as a spectator. The vicar stepped back to make more room.
He offered his condolences and then explained that he needed to return to the
vicarage. Peter accompanied him to the path and thanked him for his assistance,
confirming once more that he would post a copy of the baptism record for
authentication.

Meanwhile, Joan had returned to Margaret’s side. They had
linked hands and he could see that each was using a handkerchief to wipe away a
tear. In the space of a few minutes, they’d received confirmation of their
grandfather’s name, seen his memorial and now were close to the spot where
their grandmother lay, an innocent victim of a tragic railway disaster. Their
reaction was completely understandable and Peter remained at a respectful
distance, in order to allow them some privacy in their grief.

The sisters however, were not ones to dwell on sadness for
long. Joan approached Peter. ‘Stiff upper lip and all that, eh, Mr Sefton?’ she
said.

‘No, please,’ he replied, ‘I remember when I found my great
great-grandfather’s grave. He died in a coal mining disaster in Lancashire in
the 1870s. Something like this experience today takes you back in time, to the
tragic circumstances in which they lost their lives. I understand your
reactions perfectly and you have my sympathy.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind. Do you think you could take a
photograph of our grandmother’s grave and headstone? It would mean a lot and be
something to keep.’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Peter. ‘Would you like me to
photograph the memorial plaque as well?’

‘Yes, please do,’ answered Margaret, who had recovered her
composure and had managed to wheel herself over to join them.

Peter quietly took some photographs of the grave and then
went back into the church to photograph the memorial. Afterwards, he met the
sisters by their car. Margaret was already installed and her wheelchair had
been stowed in the back.

‘Look, I had booked lunch for us. I quite understand if you
would prefer to head straight home if you don’t feel like eating. I can cancel
our table,’ Peter explained.

‘No, we think a nice lunch would be just the ticket,’ said
Margaret with enthusiasm. ‘We could do with a distraction and a spot of lunch
sounds perfect.’

‘Right, let’s go then,’ he said. ‘You follow me. It’s a
restaurant called “Brindles”, would you believe, and it’s about two miles away.
There’s plenty of room for parking and they have wheelchair access. I checked.’

‘Perfect, Mr Sefton,’ confirmed Joan, putting on her driving
gloves.

Not something that most drivers wear nowadays – apart
from racing drivers
, Peter thought wryly.
‘
Lead on.’

A week passed with no word from the
Treasury Solicitor. Peter couldn’t decide whether that was a good sign or a bad
one. On balance, he decided it was a good sign, because surely, if they were
going to reject the claim, then they would have done so sooner.

As requested, he had forwarded the authenticated copy of the
baptism register from Saint Matthew’s Church, along with the originals of the
postcards, and the telegram. Everything was sent by registered post, just to be
safe. Peter was convinced that the naming of the godparents in the baptism
register ought to clinch the decision in their favour. It proved the
relationship between each of Rosetta’s children and their foster parents. Just
after breakfast the following morning, the phone rang. It was Margaret. She was
breathless with excitement.

‘Mr Sefton! Mr Sefton!’ she exclaimed excitedly. ‘We’ve got
it! We’ve got it!’ she squealed.

‘They’ve admitted the claim!’ shouted Joan in the
background, sharing in the excitement.

‘Yes, we’ve just opened the letter. Oh it’s wonderful news,
thank you so much,’ added Margaret. Peter could tell that she was on the point
of breaking into tears.

It was his turn to be excited now. ‘What? You’ve had a
letter this morning?’

Joan wrested the handset from her sister. ‘Yes! Yes! Isn’t
it wonderful! How will we ever thank you?’

‘That’s amazing!’ shouted Peter, punching the air with his
free hand. ‘I’m so pleased for you, I really am! How much are you going to get?
Does it say?’

‘Yes, the residual value of the estate is £64,376. The
Treasury Solicitor has agreed to accept our claim. One of us has to apply for
Grant of Letters of Administration. That’ll be Margaret, she’s best with things
like that. Oh, we can’t believe it, Mr Sefton. We just cannot believe it!’

‘Well, you believe it. They wouldn’t make it up. You and
Margaret are entitled. I expect I’ve got a letter on the way too, but my post
doesn’t arrive till lunchtime.’

They chatted on for some time and later in the day Peter
rang back to say that he too had received confirmation that the claim to the
estate of Harry Williams had been admitted in favour of Joan and Margaret
Trigg. It was fantastic news and Felicity was equally impressed when he
telephoned her at school during lunch break. He felt ecstatic and remained on a
high for days afterwards.

Peter chatted on the phone to the sisters on many occasions over
the next few months. The legal hurdles took about seven months to complete and
the sisters were thrilled when the estate was finally released to them. They
immediately sought quotations to remodel the bathroom and install full central
heating in their bungalow. It was gratifying for Peter to know that the money
would be put to good use.

During one telephone conversation, Margaret broached the
subject of donating to a charity on Peter’s behalf. Peter hadn’t liked to
mention it himself, but was pleased when given the opportunity to discuss it
with her. He explained again that Harry Williams had been a keen fundraiser for
the Lifeboat Charity. Peter wasn’t sure why that was so, but said that he
suspected it might be connected with the loss of his ‘father’, John Williams,
at sea. Peter was amazed when Margaret announced that they wanted to donate
£5,000.

‘Are you sure that’s not too much?’ he queried. ‘You need
that money, I know you do. I was thinking more along the lines of about £500.’

‘No, we’ve discussed it and we believe a charity should
share in our good fortune. We have tried to think what Harry might have done
with it and we agree that your suggestion is an excellent one. Although we
never knew him, we would like to think that a donation of £5,000 would be a
fitting tribute to his memory.’

‘Well, that is extremely generous, I must say,’ added Peter.

‘We’d like you to come down for the presentation. Do you
think that would be possible and you could bring your wife too if you wish?’
asked Margaret.

‘What presentation?’

‘The presentation of the cheque; you know, one of those big
cardboard ones, to the Lifeboat Charity. We’ve already set the wheels in
motion. The local paper is going to host a small reception and they’ll take a
photograph of you with us. Please do come. They ran a little piece in the paper
last month about our inheritance. We’d like you to be there with us. We’ve made
it clear that the donation will be made by us, but on your behalf.’

‘That’s very kind,’ Peter replied, almost at a loss for
words. ‘I’d be delighted to come down and I’m sure my wife Felicity would be
delighted to accompany me.’

Hence, one day during the following month, Peter made a return
trip to Lymington. Felicity was with him. Outside the building, which housed
the offices and printing works of the local newspaper, they found a small crowd
gathering. Peter couldn’t help but notice a very smart new vehicle parked in a
space reserved for the disabled. It matched the description Margaret had given
him over the phone. It was especially adapted, with a rear door accessed by a
ramp. Neat, compact, and functional, it was exactly what Joan and Margaret
needed and Peter was delighted to see it.

Inside the reception area, he sensed the excitement and
anticipation. Drinks and refreshments were on offer and several local
dignitaries were in attendance. Peter spotted the sisters on the other side of
the room. Margaret was seated in a brand new electric wheelchair. When they saw
Peter, they waved excitedly and made their way over to welcome him. He
introduced Felicity to the sisters who were delighted to meet her, and Margaret
gave a quick demonstration of her skill and mastery of her new chair’s
controls.

The presentation ceremony went very smoothly. The newspaper
and the local bank had organised the making of a giant two-metre long cardboard
replica cheque, showing the amount of £5,000 payable to the Lifeboat Charity.
One end of the cheque was held by Margaret, with Peter and Joan standing
immediately behind her. The other end, the receiving end, was held by a
representative from the charity. Photographs were taken and Joan gave a brief
speech that concluded as follows:

‘Above all, my sister and I are indebted to the kindness and
amazing detective work of Peter Sefton, without whose efforts we would never
have had the good fortune to be united with an inheritance from our late uncle,
Harold Ince. We now know, through Peter’s research, that Harold worked hard to
raise funds for the Lifeboat Charity and for this reason, as a fitting tribute
to the memory of our uncle, we are delighted to make this donation on behalf of
Peter Sefton.’

New
York Times, Obituary, Wednesday, April 21 1937

Rosetta Vincenti
Founder of The Silverman Skirt Company

Rosetta Vincenti passed away Monday at her apartment on Central
Park West after a short illness. She was 62 years old.

She emigrated from Liverpool, England, in November 1902 and
became a naturalized US citizen in 1913. On arrival in New York, she joined the
business of Stephano-Silverman Costumes. In 1906, she became a partner in the
firm. In 1912, she bought out the surviving partners to become the sole
proprietor. Under her direction and ownership, The Silverman Skirt Company
became a well-known manufacturer of skirts and dresses. The business expanded
into retail and relocated to Fifth Avenue in 1922. She retired in 1932, selling
the business for a sum reputedly in excess of $1,000,000.

It is understood that under the terms of her will, her entire
fortune has been left to a number of children’s charities.

Her funeral, which will be simple in accordance with her wishes,
will be Tuesday morning at 10 o’clock from the Joseph C. Robinson Funeral
Establishment at Broadway and Sixty-Sixth Street. She requested that no flowers
be sent.

THE END