Living Again

Part 5

Two minutes later they had the date. March 18th 1926. No cause of death was given.

"All right I'll try 1926 for woman number two," Paul said. "What was her name again?"

"Elizabeth Farlow, born in Melbourne."

The computer took its time. Apparently there had been a lot of births in 1926, but then there was the name on the screen.

"Elizabeth Jane Farlow, born March 18th 1926, the same date Mary Richards died," muttered David. "Check when she died."

"January 29th 1956 at 4pm, cause of death, illness." David read from the screen. "January 29th, that was Angela's birthdate."

"Do you know what time she was born?"

"No."

"I'll look it up."

The answer was 4pm.

David walked away from the computer in a daze and sat down on the lounge. "It all fits, everything she said we've confirmed. She's lived three lives."

"Hold on," Paul said. "This is too weird. She could have looked up all this stuff on the net like we did and made up the whole story."

"But why, Paul? Why would she do that? I knew her better than anyone. It's not the sort of thing she would do. No, there's something going on here. How could we find photos of these two women?"

Paul thought for a moment. "I don't know about Mary Richards, there weren't a lot of cameras around before 1926. As for Elizabeth Farlow, a family history organisation might be able to give us something, we have the names of her parents."

"I'll have a search on the net to find the names of such places in Melbourne," David said. "But Paul, if everything she said was true, then she was born again at five thirty in the morning of March 27th, 1987."

"I still can't believe I'm doing this," Paul muttered, "but okay I'll search the birth records to see how many girls were born in Australia at that time on that date."

A few minutes later they examined the list of names on the screen. Eight babies had been born at five thirty am on March 27th 1987. Five boys and three girls.

David read out the names of the girls. "Sarah Jacobs in Broken Hill, Kristin Hayward in Canberra, and Catherine Gordon in Port Augusta."

"I'll print out the page," Paul said, "It gives the names and addresses of the parents."

They sat back and discussed what to do next. 

"Let's try the phone book," Paul suggested. "It's possible these three families may still live at the same addresses, even after eighteen years."

He logged onto the White Pages on the internet. They struck out with the first two, but in Port Augusta there was a listing for a K and J Gordon at the same address in the birth record. The initials matched the names of Catherine's mother and father, Keith and Janet.

David looked at Paul. "What will I do, I can't just ring her. What if it isn't her? How do I explain myself? And what do I say? Ask her if her name was Angela in a previous life?"

"Just ask for her and you'll know her voice, won't you? Ask her if she's ever lived in Brisbane. Just get her to say enough for you to be able to tell if it's Angie."

"Okay, but I'm nervous as hell." He paused, took a deep breath and keyed the number into the phone. After the fourth ring a female voice answered "Hello." It wasn't Angie, the voice sounded older and mature. Probably Catherine's mother.

"Can I speak to Catherine, please," David said, his chest feeling tight with anticipation.

"Catherine? You mean Cathy. Who's calling?"

"I'm an old friend. I want to surprise her." That was well and truly understating the truth he thought.

"All right, I'll get her."

A few seconds later a younger female voice came on the phone. "Hello, this is Cathy, who is this?"

It wasn't her. He knew it immediately. "Sorry, I've got the wrong person," he said and hung up.

"One down, two to go," Paul declared, "I'm sorry David but I have to be getting back home. Try those family history organisations and let me know how you go."

After Paul left David spent the next two hours looking up family history websites. He found one in Melbourne which looked promising and decided to phone them the next day with the details on Elizabeth Farlow.

That night Angela came to David in a dream. He was walking with her on the beach just like they had done many years ago. Then there was a crash and a car was driving towards them and she was pulled away from him. In a haze her face gradually disappeared and he heard her voice calling to him "David, I can't find you. Come and find me. I'm waiting, come and find me."

Her voice faded and was gradually replaced by an familiar song "Islands in the Stream".

He woke with a start. It was daylight, his clock radio had come on at six thirty and "Islands in the Stream" was playing. What a coincidence! It had always been their special song.

During his lunch break that day he called the family history centre in Melboune who agreed to do a search for him after they received a fee of eighty dollars in advance. He gave them his credit card details and they promised to have something for him by the new year.

The search continues in the next chapter, but don't forget to vote first :)