They walked into the modern building and Kate nodded her approval of the décor in beech and steel with lime green walls. David walked over to the desk and smiled. “David Briggs, I’m booked in for three o’clock.” The clerk gave him a toothy, business smile, and put on a pair of blue-framed reading glasses. She consulted her list, “Ah, here we are sir, table eighteen, it’s just over there,” she pointed. “Now, what was it you were looking for?”
“The Parish Register for Covenham St. Mary. The Civil War period onwards. Does it go back that far?” he asked, twisting his wedding ring, before rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh yes, most of the villages have a register dating from the sixteenth century.” She came out from behind her desk and Kate studied her.
‘Longer skirt with those legs. Square-
