"We should go through Mum's things. I'm sure she is hiding something, and she may have a photo of Dad, or a clue as to why she is so damn secretive about everything. If you think about it, Bex, we haven't met anyone else in the family to corroborate Mum's version of events. Who knows - we may have aunts and uncles and cousins." Mark's eyes were shining now.
I stared at him in something approaching horror. Go through Mum's personal things? She'd always been such a private person, it felt like the ultimate betrayal. But then I remembered the hundreds of times I'd asked her about Dad, and how each and every time she had treated me as if I was somehow behaving inappropriately, even badly, when she'd refused to speak of him, and how each and every one of these had felt like a betrayal to me, and I nodded. Getting the information any other way could only be futile.
"I think that's a good idea," I said. "Let's do that."
Mark
I was stunned when Rebecca agreed to go through Mum's things. She'd always seemed so dutiful, and so good. I liked this new side to her. She seemed more grown up, and less dependent on the opinions of others in her decision making - more an independent person in her own right than the obedient and docile daughter she had been until a couple of weeks ago. I smiled at my sister in appreciation. She grinned back.
"I'll leave you two to do that," Angus suggested. "I need to organise a spare bed for Mark, and I need to find out if Fergus has made any progress in the search for Jack's base."
I smiled at that. "Tell Fergus I say hi, and sorry for not appreciating the holiday as much as I should have."
"You knew?"
"Oh yes. Holiday suddenly drops out of nowhere? Sounds very Fergus-like. I especially liked the part where Mum's boss had to make her go. Ha! That was a bit of a giveaway. The fact that I only figured it out on the plane there says more about me than I'd like." I chuckled. "I wonder if Mum's cottoned on yet? Come on Bex, let's go."
We left Mina and Angus to their own devices, and walked across the road to the house we'd moved into about five years back. It was similar to Angus', but it had a couple more bedrooms than his, and wasn't as nicely furnished. As our feet crunched across the frosty grass I wondered if we'd find anything useful, or if we'd have to try and drag the information out of Mum. If past experiences were anything to go by, that was likely to end in spectacular failure.