Letters to Lincoln

I nodded my agreement. I was keen to get that resolved. There was a small part of me that wanted to go back there, for one last visit. A larger part knew that would put me back months. The memories would overwhelm and perhaps I was still ‘hiding’ from facing up to them. I just didn’t feel ready and wondered if I’d regret that at some point. I had to remind myself, it was just a house, bricks and mortar; the memories would always stay with me.

“I think we should make a start on clearing out the barn. Maybe you’ll get better perspective when it’s empty. We can mark out the rooms, if you like,” Dad said, I thought that was a great idea.

I pulled a jumper over my head and laced up my boots, there was no time like the present to get started. Dad and I headed out to the barn. It was decided that we’d separate up the boxes that were stacked against one wall. Three piles began to form. One belonged to me, one to Christian, and the third was Dad’s. It seemed that Mum had been extremely organised with each box, they were labelled with either our name or the room the items had been cleared out from.

Dad turned on an old battery radio and hummed along to tunes as we shifted the boxes. A couple of hours later we’d sorted them.

“I guess we need to organise a skip, or something. I’m sure most of this can be thrown away,” Dad said, sitting down on an old garden chair.

What about all your tools? Should we get a shed? I wrote.

“Might not be a bad idea. I’m also thinking of what to do with the car. Other than to take you to the church that day, I never drive it. It costs a fortune just to have sitting there. My old eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I don’t really feel confident on the road anymore.”

But you’ll lose your independence.

“We do have those things called taxis, Dani,” he said with a chuckle.

I imagined the old Mercedes to be a classic nowadays and it was in mint condition. I hadn’t driven in years, there was never the need when living in London and parking was at a premium. I felt it a shame to sell the car, though. Maybe I could persuade Dad to keep it.

We were both covered in dust by the time we decided to take a break. Dad headed into the house to make some tea, and I sat, looking up at the roof. I could see the beams that Miller wanted to keep exposed. I pictured myself sitting in my chair surrounded by their history. I wondered how old the barn was, Dad thought it was well over a hundred years. If a building could talk, I bet it had some stories to tell.

“Hello?” I heard. I looked over to the door as it creaked open. “Dani, your dad said you were in here.”

Daniel walked into the barn. I stood, brushing some of the dust from my palms onto the front of my jeans. I held out my hand and he shook it.

“I was passing, thought I’d pop in and let you know I haven’t forgotten your quest for information. It seems our Anna is a bit of a mystery. We have a record of her being buried, of course, but there isn’t a great deal of information. I can say; her husband isn’t called Lincoln. Alan is his name. Now, I say husband, he’s listed as partner, so who knows?” he laughed as he spoke.

Do you know where she lived? I wrote.

“That’s the mystery. Not in this village, which confused me at first. May I?” he indicated towards the chair. I nodded and brushed off a couple of cobwebs.

“It seems Anna might have been born here but moved away, abroad it looks like. Those are her ashes in the cemetery. She didn’t have a service here, just laid to rest. Maybe it was her wish to ‘come home,’ which leads me to suspect the man you saw might not have been her husband, or partner.”

I sighed with disappointment. I’d built that image of Lincoln in my mind based on his style of handwriting and the man I’d seen that day. My curiosity was piqued further, though. Who was the man who tended to her grave, if not her husband?

Dad arrived with three mugs of tea, balancing on an old metal tray. “I didn’t know if you took sugar, Daniel, so brought a pot,” he said. He laid the tray on the workbench and dragged out a couple of deckchairs from underneath it.

“I think you’ll have to go first. If they collapse, I’d never be able to get back out,” he said, handing me one.

Once I’d figured out how to actually open the thing, I tested the blue-stripped material seat for stability. I cautiously lowered myself down. Aside from some creaking, it held. Daniel stood and held onto Dad’s arm as he sat. I didn’t think I would get out of the deckchair without either help, or throwing myself to the ground.

“Dani is going to turn this into a house, assuming we get the permission, of course. Do you have any influence at the council?” Dad said. I nearly spat the mouthful of tea I’d taken all over Daniel’s neatly pressed jeans.

Daniel laughed. “Sadly not, although I am a member of the parish council,” he gave Dad a wink.

“Well, give us a heads up if you think there’ll be any objections. I hear you’re keen on DIY, I have some great tools here, if you’d like to take some.”

I mouthed the word ‘Dad’ and frowned in embarrassment at him. I grabbed my pad.

I’m sure that’s called using undue influence, or bribery, or something! And you promised Miller the tools.

Both Dad and Daniel laughed. “I don’t indulge in any form of DIY, Alistair. I’m sure Miller will have more use for them than me.”

“To be honest, Dani, I don’t see any objections to the conversion. I think people would rather see these buildings lived in instead of falling into disrepair. And think about it, I’m your only neighbour and I don’t object,” Daniel added. “Plus, I think Miller might kill me if I did.”

Dad and Daniel chatted back and forth and it dawned on me that they knew each other quite well, or appeared to. I made a mental note to ask Dad how. Daniel finished his tea and rose. He reached out his hand.

“Do you need help to get up?” he asked. I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. He did the same with Dad.

“Daniel, it was great to chat with you again. You and Miller should come to dinner soon,” Dad said.

I frowned. Were Daniel and Miller an item? I waited until Daniel had left.

What’s the connection between him and Miller? And you seemed to know him well; I thought he was new here.

“No,” Dad laughed. “They’re brothers! They both grew up here, I’m pretty sure you might have played with them when you were little. I’m sure you would have all gone to the same school, although I think they’re a little older than you. Daniel came back here when Miller got into trouble. Guess he thought he could save his soul, or something.”

I remembered Dad saying that Miller had previously had problems but didn’t know what. He’d said that Mrs. Hampton was a gossip and he hadn’t taken too much notice.



That night, as I brushed my hair after my shower, it dawned on me that I’d been in a different frame of mind; I hadn’t felt that deep sadness. Or if I had, it had been overridden by the activities of the day. I pulled on my pyjamas and climbed into bed. I’d enjoyed Daniel’s company; he didn’t seem to be a run-of-the-mill vicar. He was much more ‘modern’ than I’d normally expect, not that I knew many vicars, of course. It had surprised me to learn he was Miller’s brother. There was no resemblance at all, and it would be interesting to know their ages, there didn’t look to be much difference between them.

I’d left the curtains open and the moon was high in the sky. It cast a glow over the sea that, unusually for the time of year, was calm that evening. Not that the thought would have entered my head, but leaving this for the city lights, the honking cars at all hours, and the rowdiness of people on the streets, would be madness. I felt calm, peace surrounded me; Mother Nature was taking care of my soul.

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