Cambridge Coincidences Collection

In February 1978 I was on a maternity ward at the Oxford Street Maternity Hospital in Liverpool having just given birth to my first child. The ward had at least 6 patients, could have been more, I don't remember. While talking to the other new mothers we found that all of our partners were called John apart from one and she was calling her baby either John or Jon.

I joined the Metropolitan Police on 28th April 1969 and went to the Hendon Training School for the initial 13 weeks training. I was put into a room with one other recruit whom I had never met before. After a few days of getting to know each other, we started to exchange our background history. I told him that my wife( girlfriend at the time) went to a school in South London called Singlegate Secondary Modern. He told me that his wife also went to that school and in fact sat next to my wife and were in fact the best of friends throughout their school years. We all remained good friends and they came to my wedding. Another incident occured a few years later. I was stationed at Epsom Police Station and my wife and I went on holiday to a remote greek island. The resort we stayed in had only a few apartments. We arrived late on a Saturday night and went straight to the apartment. In the morning I woke early and wandered down to the village to get some breakfast and watch the fishing boats come in. As I rounded a corner the first person I saw getting off one of the boats, was my Chief Superintendent and his wife.

I never knew my father who had an extra-marital affair with my mother in the late 40's, and I didn't even find out about it until I was well into my thirties and then my mother only told me his name, what he did, where he lived - basic information. I knew nothing else about him and never felt inclined to track him down. Three years ago, we needed an electrician and after 2 or 3 electricians failed to return calls, a friend gave us a name and a young man came to the house. When we asked his name to write a cheque he gave it, and I jokingly asked 'you don't know (father's name) do you? And he replied - yes my grandfather. I asked where he'd lived (right location), how old he was (right age), what he did (right profession). It turned out this young man was the grandson of my biological father, after we both (discreetly in his case as his grandmother was still alive) confirmed this was the case.

The event I want to describe occurred around 1999/2000. I was 52 at this time and my mother, who was bed-ridden, was living with me. She was in the habit of reading the Daily Mail, a paper which I hated and ostentatiously refused to read! The topic of adoption was very much in the news (I can’t now remember why) and my mother asked my opinion on the subject. I said I didn’t really know anything about it; I had only ever known one person who had been adopted – a girl called Susan Scantlebury. We had been in the same class during our first year at secondary school. My mother remembered her and we discussed her for a while. Susan and I were in different forms after the first year and she left school before I did. Until the day in question, it must have been nearly 40 years since I had given her a thought. I picked up my mother’s newspaper and, contrary to my usual practice, flicked through it. The whole of the centre spread was devoted to the first-person account of an ordinary woman who had had a very happy experience of being adopted. There was nothing in any way remarkable about her story. The woman was Susan Scantlebury!