SADIE: ‘There’s a label on the front that says: “Sadie’s Things”. The writing is quite faded, as though it was written a long time ago, and the label itself is peeling at the corners.
‘It smells a little old and musty, but the contents are mostly intact. There’s a toy rabbit; a star-shaped hair slide; a Barbie doll wearing a pink gingham dress; a tiny pair of ballet shoes, and six photographs.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you recognize any of these items?’
SADIE: ‘I can’t say I do, but as you can see each of the photographs features a little girl who I’m guessing could be me, aged one or maybe slightly older. Not much more than a baby, anyway.’
CRISTY: ‘Are they the photos that were around your house when you were growing up? The ones you were told were of you and your parents?’
SADIE: ‘No, they’re not. These are quite different.’
CRISTY: ‘Tell us about who’s in them.’
SADIE: ‘There’s a woman who’s probably early- to mid-twenties … She has shoulder-length, thick blonde hair and she looks, well, kind of like me. I mean, me now, not in the photos. Would you agree?’
CRISTY: ‘Yes, I would.’
Sadie’s relief and gratitude showed in a smile.
SADIE: ‘I have to tell you, it makes me feel quite … I don’t know, strange, when I look at her, like I’m being transported out of myself, or something. I mean, if she is my mother … and it’s hard to think she isn’t given how alike we are … I can’t stop wondering why we’re not together when here, the way she’s holding me …’
Cristy paused as Sadie dabbed away a tear, understanding perfectly why she was finding this so upsetting. The photographs quite clearly showed a young mother who adored her child.
CRISTY: ‘Can you tell us a bit more about what we’re seeing in the photos?’
SADIE: (picking them up one by one) ‘In this one she – the woman – is wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that has some writing on the front, but it’s not possible to make outwhat it says. She’s lying on the grass side by side with the child. They’re holding hands and seem to be staring up at the sky … There’s a shadow over them, from whoever took the photo. It looks like a man.’
She moved on to the next.
SADIE: ‘In this one she’s sitting up on her knees and the child is tucked in against her, their faces one above the other, and they’re laughing quite hard, clearly having so much fun.
‘In the third one … they’re pulling silly faces, tongues out, eyes pulled down … The next two are of the child fast asleep on somebody’s lap – you can only see the arms holding her, nothing to say who it is, but they’re masculine …
‘The last one is the child again, riding the shoulders of a young man who’s holding her legs and laughing up at her. He’s wearing a hat that partially obscures his face, but he has a lot of dark hair, and he’s laughing.’
Cristy watched as Sadie continued to gaze at the photos, taking them in and presumably remembering how she’d had a memory of a man in a hat.
CRISTY: ‘So you think these two people are your parents?’
Sadie nodded, before remembering she needed to speak.
SADIE: ‘Yes, that is what I think.’
CRISTY: ‘And since finding these photos … Have they jogged any memories for you?’
SADIE: ‘Well, as I said before, I have an image of a man in a hat, and of him – I think it was the same man – riding a bicycle with me on the crossbar, and I’m sure I remember being on some sort of carousel.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you recall anything particular about the woman?’
SADIE: ‘I didn’t at first, but then I … I think I remember playing with her hair and getting it all tangled up in a brush.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you have any thoughts on where you might have been at the time any of these photos were taken?’
SADIE: ‘I’m afraid not. Something I remember though, oddly, is a clothes horse full of fresh laundry, and a garden with toys … Swings, a trampoline, that sort of thing. There was a big house nearby, or maybe it just seemed big to me …’
CRISTY: ‘There’s something else in the box you’ve brought today. Something of huge significance. Do you mind telling us about it?’
Sadie reached for a single, folded sheet of paper, straightened it, and cleared her throat a couple of times.