Free Blood Atonement by Dan Waddell Page A

some mitochondrial DNA …’
    ‘Which proved they shared a common maternal ancestor.
    Fascinating,’ Nigel said.
    ‘You know about DNA?’
    ‘I’m no scientist,’ Nigel explained, ‘to say the very least.
    However, you can’t be a genealogist these days and not be aware of the use of DNA.’
    You’ve lost me,’ Foster said. ‘How the hell does DNA
    have anything to do with genealogy?’
    ‘Well, there you’re entering into a major debate. There
     
    are some who think it should have nothing to do with
    traditional genealogy, that we should all trace our ancestry the old-fashioned way, by following the paper trail. I have some sympathy for that view. But then there are those, an increasing number, who think DNA testing has a massive part to play, that it’s the future of genealogy.’
    Foster didn’t seem interested in pursuing the debate.
    ‘How long will the research take?’
    ‘If you want the entire maternal line, then it might take longer than usual, simply because unlike the paternal line you’re dealing with a number of name changes, given that most of the women will have married. But pretty quickly if you give me the support you did last time and get the General Register Office to pull the certificates I find and read out the information over the phone.’
    ‘No problem,’ Foster said. ‘Heather will help you. She’s used to giving you a hand.’
    Nigel felt his stomach turn. ‘Great,’ he said, squeezing out a smile. Her smile was as forced as his. He guessed it wasn’t her idea.
    Foster left. They watched him go.
    ‘He’s lost weight,’ Nigel said, seeking to fill any awkward silence. Here he was, alone with Heather again. Someone up there was taunting him.
    ‘Six months sipping soup and red wine through a straw
    while his jaw healed,’ she replied. ‘He could market it as a miracle diet.’
    ‘He seems OK, though.’
    ‘He’s back at work. I spoke to him a few times and he
    feigned enjoyment at doing nothing, but he fooled nobody.
    It’s quite sad. Other than his job, he has nothing.’
    Nigel wracked his brain for something that defined his
    existence other than work. His quest failed.
    Back upstairs the centre was filling up slowly, just as
    Nigel liked it. ‘Is it still as busy as ever down here?’ Heather asked as they walked.
    ‘Oh, yes. It’s a riot,’ Nigel replied, earning a laugh, the throaty traffic-stopping one he loved. He’d do all he could to hear it regularly. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed just being with her. Recently he’d been telling himself to live more in the moment, not easy for one who spent his life working in the past. Here was a chance to try his new approach.
    ‘One day I’ll explain,’ she’d told him. Nigel wanted
    to postpone that moment. Any hope he still clinged to
    that she’d realized what a mistake she’d made might be
    snuffed out.
    He aimed to trace Katie Drake’s ancestry back as far as
    possible, before coming forward through the maternal
    line to identify as many living cousins as possible. With the help of the hotline to the GRO, the work was easy and without obstacle until 1891. In that year Horton and Sarah Rowley married four months before the birth of their daughter, Emma; he aged twenty-one, she just eighteen.
    His occupation was given as carpenter. Neither gave the
    name of their fathers.
    Nigel discovered the couple had two more children,
    Isaac and Elizabeth. In 1909, Horton — a Christian name Nigel had rarely encountered before — died in an accident, run over by an omnibus. Isaac was killed in the First World War. In 1913 Sarah died of pneumonia and pleurisy. Yet he could find no evidence of the couple’s births among
    the indexes or on census returns for 1871 and 1881. He
    located them on the 1891 and 1901 censuses. On both
    occasions under ‘Where Born’ were the letters ‘NK’. He
    showed the results to Heather.
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘Not known.’
    ‘I suppose that means their parents were