Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- POPULAR BOOKS FROM THE ERA
- When We Meet Again
- A Conversation with Caroline Beecham about When We Meet Again
- Discussion Guide
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“That’s okay. It’s a start.” Alice attempted to smile. It sounded more promising than the Juvenile Index that the police kept for “stray or missing” children, which Eadie hadn’t been on. Although if she was on this one that Miss Swift spoke of, it would mean that she might already be too late.
Joanna smiled back. “It’s difficult for everyone, I know.” She sighed. “Formal adoption didn’t even exist in the United Kingdom until nineteen twenty-seven, and there’s rarely any documentation. The Adopted Children’s Register is really all there is.”
“But how can there have been so little progress in sixteen years?” Alice said, wiping her eyes and fueled by a newfound anger. “There must be something else I can do.”
“Eadie is only a week old?”
“Yes.”
“Have you tried the foundling hospitals? There’s the Thomas Coram register, which lists children given to those hospitals. That’s probably your best chance, although they do baptize them with new names.” Joanna looked thoughtful and pursed her lips.
“But Eadie was only a day old when she was taken—she hadn’t even been baptized,” Alice said, as she dabbed at her eyes.
“You could try the Dr. Barnardo’s Homes too, where apparently quite a few children are claimed.”
Alice’s optimism was evaporating, a cold nausea taking hold. “There was an advert in the newspaper . . . that’s what my mother responded to. Maybe you’ve seen it, or something similar.”
“Oh dear. If that’s the case, then I’m afraid I really can’t offer you any help. I’m afraid we are all at the mercy of the government in that respect.”
“What do you mean?”
Joanna sighed and then spoke in the slow sympathetic tone she’d used earlier. “I can’t advise you, I can only tell you that we exist to protect infants and children, not exploit them. If there is any way I could help you, Alice, I would. And if you had come to me in a few months’ time . . .” She paused and sighed. “I might have been able to help you then, but I’m afraid you’re too early.”
That didn’t seem to make sense. “What do you mean ‘too early’?”
“You’ve heard of baby farmers?”
Alice nodded; she hadn’t heard the term for some time but knew it was associated with child trafficking that had existed in the early part of the century. It brought to mind images of alleyways engulfed in fog and grim reapers trading babies, and these thoughts chilled her to the core.