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 leave at once, and check into a hotel. In that 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. On arrival I receive a letter telling me that last known address of my father was in Jamaica, It also gives a surname I don't recognise at all.

I have been away to Denmark with my best friend and the question about my father is yet again postponed. When I return, another friend is asking to meet up with me.


Part Twenty Four

The next afternoon I boarded the train to Glasgow to meet with my friend. I'd decided to play it safe. It allowed me to have another glass of wine if I so wanted.

We met in a beautiful old bar that used to be the old courtroom in the city, and as usual it was teeming with people. My friend waved at me, and I weaved my way through the throng to where she was standing. A quick embrace, and she turned to me. "What are you having, Ulla?" I looked at her glass of white wine. I smiled. "Tina, I'll have the same as you."

We soon fell into our natural chatter, and she wanted to know all my news. To be honest, I found it a bit too crowded and noisy to be able to talk in any detail, but I managed to tell part of it. I kept being pushed from behind, and as I turned around to complain, I looked into the eyes of a tall dark haired man, who watched me with a bemused look.

At that moment my fate was sealed. I'd just bumped into the man who was to become my future husband.

What followed next was a bit of a haze. We had a lot in common, but what clinched it though was our mutual love of sailing.

Alan had taken early retirement, was divorced, and was in the process of moving to Spain. He had already brought his yacht down to The Mediterranean, where he planned to sail. He was leaving for the boat in ten days, and before I knew it I was invited to come along. As Alan so eloquently put it. "To find out whether we would get on, and if so, whether it was to be the two of us." I agreed to go for two weeks.

I still had plenty of time before I was to start my new work.

I phoned Mum a week before I was going, and her exact words to me were. "Ulla, I can't tell you how happy I am for you. As long as you're sure you're doing the right thing, I'm with you. I trust your judgement. Wow, I'm so pleased. Phone me as soon as you're back, and let me know. We'll have just enough time to talk before I'm moving to Denmark."

"Mum, how selfish of me, how is it all going? I'm sorry, too wrapped up in my own things."

"Don't be daft, girl, it's natural. How excited you must be. Wish I was your age."

I laughed. "Come on Mum, I'm fifty one, hardly a girl any more. But do tell me, how are you getting on?"

"Just fine, still packing. Everything's on track. You have a great time. Love you."

"Love you too, Mum. Speak when I'm back."

Needless to say that I forgot to ask about my father. It didn't even occur to me. Too much was happening and in such a short period of time.

Alan and I fell in deep love on that trip, and our future life together was sealed. I told him everything that had happened to me the last couple of months, and Alan urged me to pursue the quest to find my birth father. I realised that I had to confront my mother.

It's hard to describe the speed with which everything happened that year. While in Spain we decided on a house at the coast, mainly to spend the winters as we would be sailing the rest of the year. I wrote to my company that due to personal circumstances, it was with regret that I declined the position I'd been offered.

It was like a dream come true.

July was coming to its end, and I phoned Mum as promised.

"Ulla, how did it go? I've been thinking so much about you. Are you all right?"

"Mum, couldn't be better. This is unbelievable. We are just so happy, and . . . not much else I can say, other than we are moving down to Spain early next year. I've given up my rented house and moved in with Alan. His house is now up for sale, so hopefully everything will fall into place."

We agreed to speak in a little over a month when Mum would be in Denmark waiting for her house to get ready and all the furniture to arrive from The United States.

Yet again, the issue about my father wasn't mentioned.

Everything went according to plan though. Mum left for Denmark, and Alan's house was shown a lot of interest.

August came and went, and before long, it was well into September. Mum had moved into her new house, and an offer was made on Alan's house in Largs.

It was agreed that we would both go and visit Mum in late October. She couldn't wait to meet Alan, and I couldn't wait to see her again.

We arrived one late evening, and Mum being a night owl, something else I discovered we had in common, stayed up with us into the small hours. It was obvious that she adored Alan. I sat back in my seat looking, and let them get on with it. I was a very content woman.

I'd meant to wait, but suddenly I couldn't contain it any longer. I had to ask.

"Mum, I have received a letter from the Danish Ministry telling me the name of my father which is quite different from what you told me. They also said that the last known address is Jamaica! I thought you said he was American?"

Mum looked at me and burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry I should have said. At the time of giving birth to you, I was asked for your father's name so the Danish authorities could find him to ask for child support. That was the last thing I wanted. I was so down at the time that I reckoned if he didn't want to know, then I was the last one to chase him. It would have been too much of a humiliation as I saw it then. Jamaica is easily explained. He actually lived half the year with his parents at their Jamaican plantation. His main address was in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Don't know whether he's still there if he's alive."

Mum gave me his proper surname, confessing that she had provided the authorities with a false one as well.

The next few days we spent in great harmony. Mum and I grew closer, and her bond with Alan became tighter.

Five days later, and Alan and I were back in Scotland. We had settled in for the evening when Alan glanced at me. "Why don't you go on the Internet and look up your father just as you did whith your Mum."

I smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

A few minutes later, and I was connected. I put in all the new data I now had, and held my breath. And . . . there it was. Everything I needed to know. Wow! For the second time that year I was looking at information that could change my life.

I gazed at Alan with tears in my eyes.

"Well, Ulla, what are you going to do?"

Too choked for words, I reached out for the phone.

To be continued.