Previously.

l've aways known that I was adopted, but in 2003 at the age of fifty one I decided to find my birth mother. After a short search with plenty of help, I found her in California.

I travelled over from Scotland, where I lived at the time, and stood on her doorstep. She lets me in, and we hit it off right away.

She is now telling me the story of my American father, who had to leave for faraway shores with the Merchant Marines. He promises to write, and Mum receives a few letters. She then realises that she is pregnant, and writes numerous letters, but never receives an answer.

It is with a heavy heart that she gives me up for adoption right after my birth in May 1952.

Mum leaves for Heidelberg, Germany to work and to mend, when she meets George. They fall in love, and leave for Denmark to marry in the autumn of 1954.

They have just arrived at my grandmother's home after the wedding when she hands my Mum a letter, saying that was the last letter which had arrived from my Mum's American lover.

It turns out that there'd been eight or nine letters prior to that, but my Grandmother had burned them all.

George and my Mum left at once, and checked into a hotel. In that very last letter my father yet again asks why he hasn't heard anything and whether it is a boy or a girl they'd had. It is a last plea for Mum to answer. She decides against it as she's just married George and about to start a new life.

Mum tells me that she's decided to move back to Denmark. She reveals she has a half sister.
and a very good friend, whith whom she'd never lost contact. I have to leave to go back home to Scotland.

Part Twenty Two


I found a Hotel for the night in a unique location. It was built high up on the cliffs and its spectacular setting allowed me to sit out on a balcony that belonged to my room. That, of course, was not unusual in itself, but what made it stand out was that there was absolutely nothing between me and the ocean. It hung as if in mid air. It was spectacular. Had the balcony collapsed I would have been swallowed up by the Pacific- if not already dead before I got that far.

I spent the evening out there eating the meal the room service had provided, and I raised my glass to the ocean and thought about my mother. What an appropriate setting to celebrate our reunion, and as it was also my birthday, I couldn't have wished for more.

My mobile suddenly sounded, and I saw that it was Mum. Oh, bless her, she hadn't forgotten! We'd talked for quite a long time, when she suddenly asked. "Ulla, have you looked in your handbag?" I was puzzled and said. "What do you mean? Yes, of course I have been in my handbag today."

Mum laughed and I visualised her breezy smile. "Well, Dear, have another look, and Happy Birthday! We'll speak soon. Nice flight home and before that enjoy your day down in Venice. Love you!"

"Love you too, Mum, and speak soon." I hung up, already roaming around my handbag. And then I saw it. How I could have missed it was beyond me. I pulled out the envelope, a big smile on my face as I read.

Dear Ulla,

Not only am I wishing you a happy birthday, but I am also thanking you for finding me. What I want you to do with the money I've enclosed is to enjoy a meal in your favourite place, and then go buy whatever takes your fancy. We've spent such a lovely time together and I'm so looking forward to seeing you when I am back in Denmark.

Lots of love. Your Mum.

I smiled and thought how hard it would be not to love her.

The next day I woke early and arrived in Venice, Los Angeles, well before noon. I checked in to my hotel, and yet again I found myself in a splendid room which looked over the beach and the Pacific.

After a quick change of clothes, I went outside breathing the fresh air that drifted in from the ocean. I stood still and took in the atmosphere. Nothing seemed to have changed. People dressed in all sorts of colours were milling about looking at the stalls that sold anything from T-shirts to sunglasses and God knows what. This place held so many memories for me!

I promptly did what I'd always done, and that was to buy some T-shirts as well. Not only were they cheap, but the quality was superb compared to anything you could find in Europe. I was happy as a lark. And then it was time to eat. I made my way towards the place I knew so well, and there it was. Side Walk Cafe was where it had always been, and as busy as I remembered.

I entered and had to smile when I saw the young guy approaching me on roller skates. Some things never change.

"Are you looking for a table, Ma'am?"

Being addressed like that made me feel a million years old, but I bit my tongue and smiled.

"Yes, I certainly am, and I hope you'll have one in the front row looking over the beach."

He gave me a brilliant smile."Are you eating?"

I nodded, and again he smiled,

"In that case you are in luck. One last table is available. Come this way, please."

I followed as he rolled away, and once seated, I was left to peruse the menu.

I chose a hearty salad, and to drink, well, a strawberry Margarita! Yeah, you may laugh, but I was here to remember old times and that was one of the drinks they used to do best. In my favour, I also ordered a bottle of water.

That done, I sat back and let my thoughts drift. I had so many memories of this place. For twenty years or more I had visited with colleagues through work, but also with family. However, I think the one memory that stuck out was the morning after a seven on the Richter scale. I remembered it so well, because it was the day after Denmark won the European Championship in football.

The earth never stopped moving, and my work colleagues and I spent most of the time right here. Oh, we didn't drink Margaritas all the time, but we had a few during that time. That is for sure.

And now, now I was adding yet another memory to this place, and a most important one. That of finding my mother. Yes, I was content!

The day passed so quickly, and all of a sudden it was the next morning and I was on the plane going home. I arrived to an unusually bright day for Scotland, and realised that I must have been asleep when the taxi pulled up at my front door.

I opened the front door, and was met by an array of letters on the floor. I bent down, picked them up, and with bleary eyes brought them out to the kitchen. A month was a long time to be away. I dumped them on the table and went straight for the kettle before filling it with water. I was dying for a cup of coffee before heading off to bed.

Once settled with my mug, I scanned through the pile of letters. There was the usual mix of bills and adverts, but then a letter caught my eye.

It had Danish stamps, and it was rather official looking. I turned it around and the return address was from The Foreign Ministry in Denmark. All fatigue forgotten I ripped it open.

I scanned down the page and saw that it was signed off by Marianne. The very same who had helped me to trace my mother as far as to Heidelberg, Germany in1954, enabling me to do the rest.

I quickly went to the beginning of the letter I held in my hand and Marianne explained that it was a rather informal notice. She told me that she was not officially entitled to reveal the information, but due to our mutual friends she would like to pass on to me what she knew of my father. I chuckled when I thought that the mutual friends were my ex husband and his wife. Granted, we did get on very well.

I read it several times, before I lowered it onto the table.

My father's name was Reuben, as I already knew, and the surname I didn't recognised at all. I must have remembered wrongly what Mum had said. And then I almost stopped breathing.

His last known address, which was back in 1952 at the time of my birth was Jamaica ... Jamaica?

To be continued.