“I see what you mean,” he said, turning the photograph over. “Lovely. What about pictures of Tiberius, her husband?”
Eileen shook her head. “I have never located any. It could be Bessie destroyed them or didn’t keep them or pass them along, because in 1940 she and Tiberius were divorced.”
“Ah, I see,” Dawson said. It stood to reason that Bessie would then abandon mementos of her marriage to Tiberius. “Why the divorce?”
Eileen looked regretful. “Again, I don’t know.”
“Did Bessie remarry?”
“Yes-to Robert E. Aidoo, or ‘R.E.,’ as people called him. Not long after that, she and R.E. left England to settle in Ghana-the then Gold Coast. So, Bessie came full circle back home. I have several pictures of R.E.”
From the second envelope, Eileen pulled out about a dozen photos that she handed to Dawson. She stood over his shoulder as he sifted through the pictures of Bessie and R.E. singly and together, and two children close in age.
“These are their kids?” Dawson asked.
“Yes. This is Simon, my father, and his younger brother, Uncle Cecil.”
Dawson admired their style. The children were solemn and smartly dressed. R.E. was unsmiling but dashing in a dark suit, white shirt with a wing collar, and tie in every picture. He appeared inscrutable and proper.
“I understand your father, Simon, has dementia.”
Eileen sighed. “Yes. He stays here with me, and I take care of him with the help of a house girl.”
“Does he speak?
“Some days more than others. He mostly asks who I am-over and over again.”
“Sorry. That must be difficult for you.”
“At times, but he doesn’t become agitated, and I’m grateful for that.”
“Is Uncle Cecil alive?”
She made an offhand gesture. “He lives in the UK somewhere. He’s isolated, and we don’t communicate.”
The fractured nature of the Smith-Aidoo family struck Dawson. On the other hand, Eileen appeared devoted to Simon. He felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of his relationship with his father once again.
“Do you know the span of these photos of Bessie and R.E. and the children?” Dawson asked.
“About ten years.”
“Bessie looks happy.”
“Yes, I believe she was very much in love with R.E. I have a love letter she wrote to him while she was still with Tiberius. “Would you like to see it?”
“I would be honored.”
She extracted it from the folder with even more care than she had shown with the photos. The letter was a single sheet of paper that had darkened and become brittle with age. The writing was cursive and careful, as though Bessie had gone through several drafts before the final product.
