Mac and Hugo had made their way to the seaside town of Brindleton Bay. It was the birthplace of Charles Langston II and the place where he married his wife Madeleine.
Mac felt like they had been lucky, to find yet another famous figure in their family tree whose lineage they could trace back one step further. But they were also very aware that they may be nearing the end. Unless another notable figure came up, it was going to be almost impossible for them to trace the family tree back further given how far they had already come. They couldn’t believe their luck so far that they had managed to trace back into the 1890s - and hoped that perhaps there was one more mystery left for them to uncover.
Mac and Hugo traipsed along the Brindleton dockland markets, pondering where they should start. Both agreed that a cemetery may hold some clues if they could find the name Langston.
They approached a man at a stall and asked him whereabouts the cemetery was.
‘We’re doing a family history project,’ explained Mac. ‘Looking for the name Langston. Apparently they lived here way back in the 1890s at least.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said the man. ‘The cemetery is up at the lighthouse. Langston you say? There’s an old farm called Langston Farm up the back of town, too. Maybe that’s what you’re looking for?’
Mac was ecstatic. Another stroke of luck! They headed off for the cemetery at the Lighthouse, where they found several old, crumbling headstones bearing the surname Langston.
There was a young boy aged eight - Oliver Langston, whose parents were Charles and Charlotte. And not too far from his headstone were those very people - Charles and Charlotte Langston, whose headstones noted that they were survived by their five children - Agnes, Charles, Juniper, Frank and Sybil.
This was it, Mac thought. Charles Langston II - here was his mother and father. He had siblings too. And they lived here in Brindleton Bay. The old farmhouse must have been their home, and Mac and Hugo eagerly made their way there.
Traipsing through the forest up an old dirt track, Mac didn’t know what they would find. A hopeful part of them hoped maybe there would be descendants still living there for them to meet.
But they knew realistically that it was wishful thinking. And when they came upon the old farmhouse, it was sad but unsurprising to them that it was old, decrepit and abandoned.
Mac felt a deep foreboding feeling that they had reached the end. There were no more leads to follow. They would never know what life was like here on this farm in 1890, or how its inhabitants came to be there.
‘I… don’t know what else we can do,’ they confessed to Hugo. ‘It feels like there are no more stones that can be turned over here. It’s an old abandoned farm. I thought maybe someone would still be here…’
‘Hey now,’ said Hugo softly. ‘This is ok. You have traced your family history into the 1890s. Mac, you’ve uncovered 12 generations of people who came before you - they lived such diverse lives. We got stuck so many times and we still got here. Maybe this is the end, but that’s not a bad thing. Think of everything you can share with your family when you go home.’
Mac felt sad, thinking about going home. They had so enjoyed spending this time with Hugo, having a companion to share this journey through history with, to motivate them to keep going even when they got stuck.
‘It’ll suck though to go home… and leave you,’ they confessed to Hugo.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Hugo, wrapping Mac in a big hug.
In the quiet moment under the sunset, in the forest next to the abandoned old building, something passed between the two of them. A mutual agreement that while this was the end of their search for their family history, this wasn’t the end for them. Their story was only just beginning.
