Still making my way across the bottom of Cornwall, but I've had another postcard, so it's another piece from Faith today as she reflects on her own history and the history of the island itself.
It was only me and Mum when I was growing up. Just the two of us against the world, that’s what she always said. We were a team. Of course, I always wanted to know about my Dad – most of my friends had a Dad who, even if he didn’t live with them, they saw at weekends and in the holidays. But not me. I didn’t even know who he was. Not really. All I knew was that he loved me and Mum and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with us, it was that he couldn’t. Mum was always a bit vague on the whys and wherefores of his absence from our lives, but she was adamant on that point.
Being here has made me wonder if there were some sinister forces keeping him away from us. I don’t mean anything supernatural – that would be plain silly – but what could possibly be so dangerous that it would keep a man away from his family? When Perkin Warbeck landed here in 1497, ready to launch his assault on the throne of Henry VII, he left his wife on the island for her own safety. As it turned out, he was right to do so – we all know how his story ended!
I’m not suggesting for a moment that my Dad was a pretender prince, or even a real one for that matter, but he could have been a spy. A James Bond-esque figure living in the shadows, perhaps. Or maybe he was trapped in a loveless marriage but his wife wouldn’t divorce him. Maybe he was ill and didn’t want to put me and Mum at risk.
I’ll probably never know the truth unless I can find some clues in Mum’s diaries. I’ve brought them with me to read – maybe it’s time to face the truth after all these years. That is why I’m doing this after all, isn’t it?