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She’d always believed that her father, Garrett Thompson, a fireman in Leeds had died a few months before she’d been born. After all, that’s what mum had told her. Hadn’t mum taken her to Leeds to the graveyard several times a year, including Father’s Day and his birthday throughout her childhood to lay flowers on at his headstone? Hadn’t that headstone read:
Garrett Elliott Thompson
August 18, 1950 – January 3, 1985
Beloved Husband & Devoted Father
Hadn’t mum explained over the years that reason they lived in St. Ives not Leeds, was because after that burning building had collapsed and dad hadn’t survived, she simply couldn’t face raising his child in the city where he’d died? Hadn’t she believed mum all those times when she asked to see a picture of him, that mum hadn’t been able to face keeping them, and had left them all behind? Hadn’t she believed mum when she asked about grandparents, aunts, uncles, and was told that his parents had died many years ago and that he was an only child? Hadn’t she believed her own Aunty Sylvie and Grandma who told her whenever she asked about her dad, that he was in heaven? And hadn’t she just given up asking questions by the time she was in her midteens, and simply accepted the fact that she didn’t have a father?
Yes, she had, believed it all, until three days after her mum’s death. Yes, she’d believed it all until she’d had to go thru her mum’s things and had found a shoebox tucked in the corner of a closet. Yes, she’d believed it all until she’d opened that shoebox and found several letters addressed to a name Jillian had never heard her mother ever mention. Yes, she’d believed it all until she opened those unmailed letters and read the story of a one night stand, a pregnancy, a birth. Yes she’d believed it all until she read the letters telling a stranger that a baby girl had been born and named Jillian and that the stranger was the father.
Even after reading the letters, she’d believed it all. She’d believed it all until, the questions had become too much for her and she’d taken a trip to Leeds. She’d believed it all until she’d done a little searching, and found that yes, there had been someone named Garrett Elliott Thompson. Yes, he had been a firefighter who had died when a burning building collapsed. Yes, he’d been married, to someone named Elizabeth, not Sandra. Yes, he’d been a father, to a son named James. And no, no thank you very much, she didn’t want to reach Elizabeth or James.
She’d returned to St. Ives, read all the letters again, and wondered at how her mother had maintained such lies for 22 years. Had she simply searched for a headstone with the name Thompson on it, with dates that worked? After all, Thompson was a common enough name. So many questions that would never be answered. Mum was gone, grandma had passed away a few years ago, and Aunt Sylvie, victim of a stroke, seldom remembered who Jillian was.
There were however, two questions that did have answers. What his name was, and where he lived. The next question was, what if anything, was she doing to do about it? Could she simply travel to the States and show up on the doorstep of a man who didn’t even know he was a father…or rather…her father? Was he even still alive? Was he still in the States? She’d taken the letters to mum’s solicitor and asked him to see if he could find out anything at all about the man the letter’s had been addressed to.
She’d been a bit annoyed to find out that not only had Mr. Symes found the man in question, but had contacted him and told him that he had a daughter. She would much rather that he’d not discovered that little bit of information…until she decided whether or not she’d do anything with the information, that she did indeed, after 22 years, have a father.
A father, she intended to find before he found her. For the moment, she had the advantage. She knew his name and she knew where he was. He on the other hand, didn't know that she was in The City to say hello to the man who could be, might be her father.
If I find him
If I just follow
Would he hold me and never let me go
Would he let me borrow his wool winter coat
I don't know, I don't Know
(Say Hello ~ Rosie Thomas)
Birthday: May 21, 1985
Eyes: blue
Hair: black/brown
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130 lbs