I venture back up the hill and I am relieved to be back in from the rain.  I'm sure when I first came in it was sunny. 

Right,  now what to do.  I really want to go to bed,  but this whole Gruffydd thing has sparked off something in my head. He says that "He'll tell me everything if I do what he says". Well, something like that anyway. I have the attention span of a goldfish. Hang on, something happened to someone at work that sounded like that. Hold on, she texted me what it was a couple of months ago. I pull out my phone to have a look, but then I see the notification for two hundred and forty one text messages.  All off Peter. Seriously, is there a block function on this thing.  I quickly flick through them and they all basically mean the same thing, take me back.

I text back a put down ("In your dreams", if you're interested) and look back on the texts I had with my co-worker. Blackmail, that's what it is. Blackmail.

I sit down on a rustically crude desk chair and try to swing round on it. I really need to introduce them here; they've missed out on a lot. I switch on the computer and, I actually don't know what to do. Well, obviously Gruffydd can't look for "who he is", so maybe I can, I mean that's not breaking the rules of blackmail, is it? I type into the search bar Ancestry.com. Man, this computer is awfully slow. Oh, it's loaded up, finally. So, Gruffydd Jones, let's find out who you are.

'No results'! What?! So, according to this, he doesn't exist? Okay, okay, maybe he just doesn't have a page. He has to be somewhere. Let's try his father, Alfred. I'm not the only one feeling weird about looking up your butler's backstory, right?

Right, okay, Alfred Jones. Well, he has a page, oh, and a family tree. Great! Let's see, Alfred Jones, married to May Edwards, deceased. That must be Gruffydd's Mam. Wait a moment. Married a second time? To a woman called Harriet. Oh, and she had a daughter, who had another daughter (she must be the maid that works in my house). Clorisse, cute name.

So, Gruffydd's so called sister is his half-sister? And it says here she hasn't passed on. I think my butler's been telling a few porkies.

What about this then? Here it says nothing about Gruffydd being Alfred's son, in fact his name is nowhere on this family tree. Gruffydd Jones doesn't exist!

Okay, okay, I'm getting over-dramatic about this, maybe he just hasn't been put onto the system. But May had a baby with another guy, but there's no name on here. Right, stop, Kelly, this is not your business. You're not the one being blackmailed. Stop now, stop looking.

But I have to carry on. Gruffydd needs me to find this out. Okay, so let's just clarify all this info I've just found because it's just swirling round in my head like a tornado. So, Alfred W. Jones, you sneaky liar. He was married to a woman called May that passed away that may or may not have had Gruffydd and then married a woman called Harriet who had a daughter and then she had a daughter called Clorisse that works at our house. Got all that? Oh, and May had a kid with another man. Wow, this family is more complicated than my relationship with Peter.

I type into the search bar Alfred Jones and it comes up with hundreds of results. Bank statements, job descriptions, wow, how much stuff is on here? I go into his bank statement history and, honestly, I am absolutely shocked at what I find on here. He was bankrupt twenty years ago, but then after that a whole lot of money went into his account after that. What are you hiding, Alfred Jones? Before, I can delve into this further, my phone rings into my pocket. It's Dad.

"Hi Kelly. It's Dad", a gruff, but tired voice says through the speakerphone.

"Hi Dad", I answer cheerily. "How's it going?"

"Not good", he bluntly grunts.

"Why what's happened?" I ask.

"We've been evicted, Kel" he murmurs. "My rivals have pushed us too far".

"I'm sorry Dad. I'll do everything I can", I whisper.

"I know honey, I know. Anyway, I have to go now. I've got a meeting with the bank", he says and rings off.

Okay, now you stop looking for Gruffydd's back story and help out. Right okay, um, where to start. Oh! I've got it. "Rival of Kennington Indrustries", I type and talk to myself. Here it is: Aled J. F. R. Owens. He has his own Wikipedia page, that's good. Here we go, relationship status: married to unknown, children: one, born 1967. I quickly skim through all the boring facts and skip to the biography. Wow, I may be obliged to hate him, but I do admire him a bit. Says here he built Owens and Associates from the ground up and made up all his ideas from scratch. Let's see he created the idea for the robot vacuum cleaner and internet banking? I'm sure my Dad was getting excited over this "new" idea for the robot vacuum cleaner and was thinking about sending it to Dyson a couple of months ago. Maybe the idea had already been thought up...

Hang on, all these inventions written down, they've all been thought up by my Dad days before this Aled bloke starts selling them. He's been stealing my Dad's ideas!