I finally have the answers I need. I wrote to my cousin Heather to see if Mary and I can come and visit her over the Hogmany festival at the end of this year. She is delighted, she says, and says I will be in time to help them celebrate the first birthday of their little Jimmy, although Mary and I will have to sleep in the kitchen box bed. I am used to that, sure enough!
I still have the precious money Mr. Markam used to slip me from time to time, as well as the five pound note Angus gave me when last we were together – “Just in case you need it for an emergency,” he told me, almost as if he knew I would need to be taking care of myself.
To make things even better Madam told me today she would be visiting her brother in Australia and leaving directly after Harvest Thanksgiving, an extended trip that will take her at least six months. She expects me to look after the house and garden while she is away. Well, I will, at least until my ship to Canada sails in the spring, whether she is home or not.
I am hoping, hoping that Heather will give my Mary a home until I can send for her, for the only alternative is my own mother, and I do not have the courage to face my parents and risk being turned away as a fallen women. They would never believe or understand my highland marriage to a dead soldier.
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