with dyed frizzy burgundy hair. They looked an odd couple, sat there against the backdrop of purple agapanthus and Michaelmas daisies; she, in her tasselled hippy skirt and bejewelled flats, he, with his neatly trimmed Captain Birdseye beard and dark tweed suit. He always looked immaculate did Uncle Roger.
Janet waited for a pause in their conversation before introducing me. ‘This is Mercedes,’ she said to the woman. ‘Ted’s eldest.’
The red-haired woman tried to stand up to greet me, but she was wedged into a rather small metal deck chair and it was causing a few problems. ‘Oh,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Please don’t get up. You’re comfortable there.’
She gave up and sent me a look of gratitude. She had pretty eyes highlighted with a matching dab of blue eye-shadow and a cheerful round face. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mercedes.’ She held out her hand. Her cheeks looked like rosy Pippins. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m a friend of Janet’s, Amelia Whitting.’
I grasped her palm and shook it heartily. ‘Please call me Sadie,’ then turning to Uncle Roger said, ‘Happy birthday,’ and handed over my present. He took it and reached up crookedly to kiss me. I bent down quickly to offer my cheek so he didn’t have to rise.
He smacked his lips on my chin and plopped back down, screwing his eyes up. ‘Mercedes, that’s a very short skirt you’ve got on.’ There was more than a smidgen of disapproval in his eyes as he surveyed my ensemble. Both Dad and he had this superior than thou thing going on. But where Dad tried to hide it, Roger let his disregard run free. I’d chosen the dark linen dress because I knew it would be cool on the leather driving seat. Of course, I should have known Uncle Roger would have found something to censure. He always did.
Janet beat a hasty retreat, while Amelia cooed out something about me looking smart.
There were no free seats nearby so I squatted down by his feet.
‘How are you then, Mercedes?’ He was easing himself back into the comfy padding of the chair now, putting my package on the coffee table at his side. But I wasn’t having any of that; I’d spent weeks researching his gift. Uncle Roger used to be a shop steward and, like Dad, a thoroughly committed trade union man – the socialist movement ran through their blood. Their father had taken part in the Jarrow March. Neither of them ever stopped banging on about it. I’d managed to track down a very mouldy reprint of the crusaders reaching the outskirts of London, had it restored and framed. It had cost a pretty penny and I didn’t want it left on the table without him commenting on it. ‘Aren’t you going to open the present?’
Uncle Roger fingered the gift then withdrew. ‘No, we’re opening them when your cousins get here.’
‘Oh,’ I said, not trying to hide my disappointment. My uncle gave a familiar sigh.
Amelia took the cue and piped up. ‘So Sadie, Janet and Ted tell me you’re a journalist. What are you working on at the minute?’
I took a long gulp of my champagne and eyed my uncle, then I told them both about my meeting with the publisher.
At the end of it Amelia was practically jumping out of her seat. ‘Oh that’s fantastic.’
‘Yes,’ I said to Uncle Roger. ‘Can you imagine? A publishing deal?’
Even he nodded at that, acknowledging it was a massive coup although he’d never had any interest in writing. ‘That sounds interesting, Mercedes. The witch hunts. It’s a sad truth that we know more about the Witchfinder General than his victims. Obviously as a Suffolk man I’d like to point out that our county lost more souls to that nasty gentleman …’
‘But,’ Amelia interjected. ‘Overall during the witch hysteria Essex lost far far more.’ She eyed Uncle Roger for a response.
I was hoping we weren’t getting into a ‘we came off worse than you’ standoff. The truth of the matter was that that argument camouflaged the real nature of the conflict – the rich and powerful versus the poor and beleaguered. Same as it ever was …
Thankfully Roger agreed. ‘Yes, fair enough. What a horrid barbaric time. Mercedes, are you sure you want to go into all of this?’
I nodded my head vigorously. ‘I’m Essex through and through. And I’m female. Why would I not want to delve into it? There was a great wrong done to our ancestors, and I’d