She nodded sympathetically. “I’ll need to see some form of ID before I can look up any details. I hope you understand.”
“ID?” Panic had set in, so he felt the inside his jacket pockets for an imaginary identification card. His body tensed up as he rummaged around, trying to appear convincing, all the time unable to make eye contact with the receptionist. “Damn!” he said under his breath. “I had it here this morning. Don’t say I’ve lost it now.” He continued to work his hands around his clothing, checking all his pockets. “Sorry about this. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”
The woman politely grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Take your time.”
After rechecking each pocket at least four times, his fantasy search came to an end. “It’s not here. It must have fallen out at the train station. Is there no way we can do this without any?”
She caringly shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t give out any information without some type of identification. Maybe you could nip back home and get it. We’re open ’til five.”
Exhaling loudly, he leaned in close to the window. “Look, I really need that certificate. My flight to New Zealand is in a few hours, and I promised my mother that I’d get this sorted before I left.”
She shook her head again. “I’m really sorry, sir, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Sighing loudly, he rubbed his palm over his forehead. “Look, at least can you tell me if I’m in the right place. I haven’t lived here for a few years. Can you just check if you have a record of my sister, and then I can get my brother to come back later to pick up the certificate? I really need to get this sorted before my flight leaves.”
“If your sister passed away in Bristol then we should have her details here.”
He leaned in even closer and gave a pitiful stare. “Please. Can you just check for me?”
For a few seconds the woman was silent, and then she turned and headed for a computer to her left. “What’s the name again?” she asked, defeated.
Richard’s face lit up with victory, and then he pulled back his emotions quickly. “Christina. Christina Long. Thank you very much. I really appreciate this.”
The woman didn’t reply as she searched the database.
Clearly unable to find her details, she moved over to a large filing cabinet positioned behind her. Opening a large metal drawer, she filtered through the files. She then closed the heavy drawer and knelt down to open another.
Richard frowned as he anxiously waited for news. The woman got up, pushing the drawer shut as she did, her face a look of puzzlement. “I can’t seem to find your sister’s file.”
“That’s impossible.”
She shrugged. “I don’t understand it. Is her name spelt in any unique way? Maybe Christina with a ‘K’?”
Shaking his head, he almost shrugged, realizing that he didn’t really know the answer. “No, it’s spelled normally—C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N-A. And Long is spelled the usual way.”
Returning to the desk, still puzzled, she asked, “Are you sure she passed away here? I’m sorry to ask that, but I don’t understand it. She’s not on the computer system, and I can’t find her file.”
Unsure of whether or not she had been reported dead, or that the woman in his house was not Christina Long, he decided it was time to leave the Registrar’s Office. “Thanks for your help. I’ll speak with my mother later and maybe she can sort it out. Sorry for wasting your time.”
“No, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Just tell your mother to give us a call and I’m sure we can get to the bottom of it.”
“Will do. Thanks again.”
Avoiding making eye contact with the couple sitting in the waiting area, he quickly but calmly left the building.