Ursula's Secret Read Online Free PDF

suggested it, never wanted to return.
    Isobel had rarely spoken of her time there, or of her younger life at all, and Lexy hadn’t thought to press her. Now, though, she was hungry to know what her parents’ early life together had been like before Lexy arrived and took centre stage. She wanted to bring herself close to them again by getting to know something of their younger selves, the people they were before they became defined by parenthood. A ridiculous, desperate notion perhaps, to fight off the loneliness and despair looming in her shadows, to make up for her regret at taking her parents for granted when they’d been alive. Her father she could forgive herself for; she’d only been a toddler when he died and she barely remembered him, just accepted him as he’d been handed down to her by her mother, by the newspaper obituary she’d found tucked in her mother’s jewellery box, alongside a heart-shaped locket with a tiny photograph of Lexy as a baby and a faded photo of a young man she’d assumed to be her father, and a lock of baby hair tied with a pink satin ribbon.
    But her mother was different. Lexy had made the mistake of not looking, not seeing beyond the maternal to the core of the woman she’d grown up with, of not recognising her mother as anything more than the role she played in Lexy’s own life – a mistake she could never put right now. But at least this trip could pay some kind of homage to the woman she wished she’d taken the time to know better, to understand, to befriend. The woman she was furious with for leaving her, but especially for lying to her.
    She drained her glass. The champagne had lost its edge. Lukewarm now. Her attempt at devil-may-care spontaneity wasn’t really working. She could almost hear Danny lecturing her, as he had so many times before.
    “Lexy, why don’t you think sometimes. Actions have consequences, you know,” he’d say in that prissy, patronising tone, as if he were speaking to a student late with an essay because they’d been out on the razzle all night. He could be such a pain at times. Especially when he was right. His lectures always triggered arguments. She’d tell him he was boring; he’d tell her she was behaving like a spoilt child. She’d storm out; he’d shout at her not to slam the door, so of course she would. And then after she’d stomped round the block a few times or kicked the hell out of the leaves in the park, she’d sneak back home again. He’d be reading some academic journal or getting on with his marking as if nothing had happened. Except he’d have to say it. Couldn’t help himself. Every time. “You really need to learn to control yourself, Lexy.” And they’d start all over again.
    But what Danny would or wouldn’t have said was, like so much that had guided her life until now, no longer relevant. She was a free agent. She stared at her reflection in the window, clouds beyond her blurring her outline. She was free. She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling, but she’d have to get used to it. So, this was a start. Going to Africa to find Ursula’s son, an uncle of sorts. And if that letter was right, the fact that it wasn’t going to be as straightforward as she’d initially thought just added a little spice. There was a hint of drama, subterfuge even, and she’d always found that sort of frisson irresistible.
    The crisp airmail paper crackled as she pulled it from her pocket.

    Blantyre Hospital,
    May 24th
    Dear Ursula,
    As you requested, I contacted the Mission on my last clinic tour hoping to be able to put your mind at rest, but I’m afraid the news does nothing to alleviate our concerns. They had recently received a visit from a woman claiming to be the daughter of a German missionary compiling a book of some sort on the history and legacy of European missions in Africa. She was particularly interested in the orphanage and said she was devoting a chapter to the role of the Church in resettling orphaned or