Family Tree (First Chapter)

A discovery of a long lost painting stirs up best forgotten memories

Words 625

Sarah usually spent the school holidays at Grandma’s house. There was always something to do there, either in the garden, where she had her very own veggie patch, or making delicious cakes and biscuits in the big farmhouse kitchen. But after a week of rainy days even Granny’s house was becoming boring.

“I’m bored,” she sighed, in a rather dramatic fashion, dropping her head onto the kitchen table, arms outstretched.

“What would you like to do?” her grandmother asked. “We could take a look in the attic.”

The little girl sat up straight, suddenly energised. “Can we? Pretty please!” she pleaded.


Climbing the drop-down ladder made her feel much older than her ten years and Sarah could hardly wait to follow her grandma into what had always been for her an off-limits space.

Her first impression wasn’t favourable—in Sarah’s vivid imagination she’d imagined an Aladdin’s Cave, a magical place, full of long-lost treasures, but all she saw were dusty boxes and old furniture.

“It smells funny,” Sarah wrinkled her nose, “like Floppy’s hutch.”

“It’s just dust and old memories,” Granny told her before settling herself on the old rocking chair which she’d always intended on getting reupholstered. She watched on fondly as her granddaughter poked around in the packing boxes.

“Who are these people, Gran?” Sarah asked holding up a few sepia photographs showing serious looking people dressed in long dresses and dark suits.

“Family. Some I remember, but most are even before my time.”

“Then why do you keep them?”

Gran’s voice softened, “I suppose I feel as if they’re not mine to throw away.”


Opening an old oak wardrobe Sarah gave a shriek of delight when she saw the colourful clothes hanging there.

“Ooh, dress ups!” she squealed, and began to try things on.

With every garment she moved, motes of dust swirled around her like flecks of gold. A shaft of sunlight streamed through a small, round window and Sarah stood in the sudden spotlight giving an impromptu fashion parade.

The sound of her delighted giggles brought life into the neglected, gloomy space as she posed for her grandmother. Wobbling around in high-heeled shoes, draped in colourful shawl and hats, Sarah admired herself in the fly-speckled wardrobe mirror.


After a while, Sarah’s grandmother hoisted herself out of the rocking chair. “It’s time we went down and started dinner, Sweetheart.”

As the little girl bent to pick up clothes from the floor, she noticed something poking out from between the wall and the wardrobe.

“Look, I’ve found something. I think it’s a treasure map!”

“I don’t think so, although it certainly looks like one,” Sarah’s grandmother agreed on seeing the scroll of yellowed parchment.

“It’s a painting of a tree,” Sarah looked closer, “it could be a family tree, like we did at school.”

“It is, darling, you’re right," her grandmother smiled suddenly, "I’d forgotten all about this. It’s been in the family for over a hundred years. My grandmother, your great-great grandmother, made it.”

The little girl knelt on the floor and spread the canvas flat, holding it to stop it rolling up again. The tree covered most of the canvas, its branches crowded with tiny, painted figures. Each one had a name written beneath in careful, looping script.

Sarah leaned closer, fascinated by the detail — the faces, the clothes, the tiny pets at their feet. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“But what’s that down there?” she pointed to the bottom of the tree where the tangle of roots were portrayed going deep into the dark earth. Sarah was pointing to a tiny pale face, eyes closed as if it was sleeping.

“That part doesn’t matter. It’s just a silly old painting, anyway,” Granny said, firmly, her voice suddenly tight, “ Best to just put it away.”