When my mum passed away three years ago, my dad began researching her past. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know – she had sent off for her original birth certificate as soon as adopted children were legally able to do so – but she just seemed to give up on the idea when she was told that her adoption file had been destroyed in the war. Fromthen on, it was never really a subject of discussion.

But times had changed. New genealogy sites had sprung up, and my dad wanted to at least try to find out the answers to two questions that my mum would have liked answered. Namely, why, when she was born in London, was she adopted via a court in Liverpool, and where did she spend the first two and a half years of her life? She had always believed that she had been put in a children’s home at birth.

My dad only had her birth certificate but that at least gave her birth mother’s maiden name (Lillian May Crump), married name (Shepstone), and her address (in St. Pancras at what turned out to be the family run grocer’s).

Although he managed to find out much about the Crump family, the certificate also brought the first stumbling block: no marriage could be found with the surname Shepstone. As luck would have it, we posted a message on a site called curiousfox.com and got the answer; the marriage couldn’t be found because it started with a false declaration:the spouse’s name was given as Reginald Silva.

The marriage only survived a few months, perhaps not surprising considering both their ages and different social backgrounds. After a few months, Lillian May went back to live and work in the family grocer’s shop along with her elderly aunt, and Reginald returned to his family. When a baby was born some seven months later, he was given the name Melville Eric Silva de Shepstone, combining both the false and correct name of his father. Finding out my mum had a half-brother born in 1919 was the first of many surprises.

For the next six years, it appears that they both went their own ways and formed new relationships. Then, in the spring of 1925, two children were born. Reginald had a son in his new relationship, and onMay 9th, Lillian May had a daughter – my mum. My mum was named Lillian Mary Sear Shepstone; the father’s name was left blank.

Between May 1925, when my mother was born, and July 1925, something happened to force Lillian May to leave her secure home and job. Perhaps the elderly aunt with whom she lived could no longer work and the owner wasn’t prepared to let Lillian May stay on. Whatever the reason, it marked a turning point in her life of hardship and difficulty. At her new lodgings, she was accompanied by a man whom she introduced to her landlady as her husband. He was not, however, her lawful husband but instead a man called William Sear. Up until this point, we had had no idea what the significance of the name ‘Sear’ was on my mum’s birth certificate. It seems that perhaps Lillian May wanted to give a hint to my mum’s paternity.

In August 1925, Lillian May visited the lodgings of her lawful husband, Reginald, and presented him with a petition from a Mrs. Pooleyregarding the eldest child, Melville Eric. Although we don’t know what was in it, it caused Reginald to appear at Lillian May’s lodgings in late October where he confronted William Sear. A row ensued, after which William Sear left and was not seen at the lodgings again. Reginald was then on the scene every day, and by December, they were living together as man and wife. Lillian May must have already been in the early stages of another pregnancy when William Sear left.

It was not, however, the beginning of a happy time for Lillian, rather the reverse. This period of misfortune began in March 1926 with the sudden death of William Sear and was followed in April by Reginald petitioning her for divorce on the grounds of her adultery with William Sear. It seems a very strange thing for him to do in view of the fact that he was cohabitating with his wife and didn’t appear to know that William Sear had died. What is certain is that by giving the baby girl, born in June 1926, the name Faith Sear Shepstone, Lillian May was once again hinting to the paternity. Not surprisingly, she was very ill after the birth of Faith.

In the meantime, the wheels of the justice system were turning, and despite many anomalies and inconsistencies in Reginald‘s affidavit, the petition was granted. We know that Reginald asked for custody of Melville Eric and that my mum’s paternity was at issue. As Faith was not born when he swore his affidavit, she was not named anywhere. When the divorce hearing came to the court in October 1927, the judge at the Old Bailey found in Reginald Shepstone‘s favour, and adecree nisi was granted.

We don’t know what provision was made for the named children by the court because that information is closed to the public for one hundred years. But the fact that within two months of this ruling, in December 1927, my mum was placed in Tower Cressy Adoption Home in Camden seems to be a huge coincidence. It is difficult to believe that there wasn’t a connection of some kind, either with the ruling of the court or the wishes of Reginald. At this unhappy point in the story, one of my mum’s questions is now answered: the first two and a half years of her life was spent with her birth family.

In December 1927, there was a radio appeal by the novelist and playwright John Galsworthy on behalf of Tower Cressy Adoption Home in Camden. Sam and Loiusa Leak responded, and on March 4th of the following year, they traveled from Liverpool to London to meet my mum. Just four days later, incredible though that might seem to us these days, my mum was taken to Liverpool by her adoptive mother. It is not surprising that two such huge upheavals (to be taken away from her birth mother and then to be taken away by virtual strangers) had a lasting effect on my mum. And now we knew why my mum was adopted via a Liverpool court. The fact that Lillian May did not willingly give up her daughter is borne out by a very touching letter she wrote to the Liverpool Juvenile Court.

That the divorce never became absolute was a further cruel twist in the tale. The King’s proctor, who was not satisfied with the affidavit sworn by Reginald, concluded that he should be tried for perjury. When reading the court papers, including the witness statements, it is difficult not to conclude that his acquittal was a miscarriage of justice. But we will probably never know if it was, as the judge in the pre-trial suggested, a case of connivance and collusion by Lillian May and Reginald that all went horribly wrong.

Although we don’t know where Melville Eric lived for the rest of his childhood, we do know that he later married and subsequently had two children, one of whom we keep in contact with. She has kindly given permission for information and photos to be included in this story.

But what happened to Faith? Despite very intensive searching of every available avenue, we have been unable to find any trace of her. If she too was adopted, then it can only have been on an informal basis as there is no record of any birth/adoption certificate. I know that not everything in life can be known and that I should accept that we have come as far as we can, but part of me finds it difficult to let go. It may be that Faith is no longer with us to tell her story, but maybe somewhere out there she has descendants who would be willing to share her story with us, her long-lost family. I would like that verymuch.

Afterword & Acknowledgements

As it turned out, my mum’s records were not destroyed in the war, and with the help of a Post Adoption Team, who acted as an intermediary for us with Liverpool Social Services, we were allowed access to her file. At the time of our application, access for descendants of deceased adopted persons was very arbitrary. When passed, recent amendments to the Adoption & Children Law 2002, at present going through parliament, will give the descendants of deceased adopted persons the right to access information via these services.

We owe a huge debt of thanks to genealogy researcher Diana Hancock who worked so hard on our behalf to unearth material for us and to surviving members of the Shepstone and Sear families who generously shared information and photographs. Many other kind people responded to requests for help in our long search for answers about my mum’s early life. Although there are too many to mention individually, I would like to say a general heartfelt thank you to all of them.