Monday, July 30, 1900

          I am writing this in a great hurry, for Heather will come by the Still Room and carry it away.  I have wrapped it in a bundle of table linen ready for her to pick up and somehow get it up to her room.  I don’t know how; I simply must trust her to make it happen.  I will hide the key in a tiny secret compartment Da built into our boxes when he made them so many years ago. 

         Tomorrow I will slip out and start my new life.  I am grateful for all the kindnesses Martha and the others have shown me, and I am grateful my condition has not been noticed.  What lies in store for me, I wonder?

Sunday, July 22, 1900

         Angus is missing in action and feared dead.  I overheard Mrs. Burns telling Cook he had been in a great battle as part of the British Offensive, and his beautiful white horse was seen running from the battle, with no rider – his beautiful white horse who carried us into the woods where we jumped over the stream and married in the eyes of God.  I used to carry apples for him when we met.

         I will not sleep tonight.  I will pray for Angus all through the night. 

Sunday, July 8, 1900

         It took all the courage I have to make an appointment to see the priest.  First I had to confess.  I was so surprised to see that dour old Father McMahan wasn’t there.  In his place was a very young priest, who was replacing the regular priest who was away on mission.  His name is Father Campbell, and he was very kind to me.  He did say I had committed a very great sin against God and the Church, but he would help me.  He told me to give my notice at Abbott House, and he would write to the Mother Superior at the home for unwed mothers.  Oddly enough, it is located in Motherwell, in the Clyde Valley not very far from Glasgow.  “The sisters are strict,” he said, “and you will not be allowed to communicate with anyone outside of the Home.  The sisters will provide you with everything you need.  Not only that, if you choose to keep the child, they will send you into employment with one of their supporters, for one year.  After that it will be up to you to provide for yourself.”

         I told Mrs. Burns I would be leaving at the end of July, that I was needed at home.  It did make me very sad to see my parents, probably for the last time in a very long while.  I had to keep my secret.  Before I leave Abbot House I will lock up my diary and ask Heather to keep it safe for me.  I daren’t put it in my kist box to take with me to Motherwell.  Who knows what the sisters might do with it?  

Sunday, june 24, 1900

         There is no doubt now, I am going to have Angus’ child.  I cannot go home to my parents.  I heard my Da go on about one of the village lasses back in Wick, how she had brought shame and sorrow to her family, and her father was quite right to disown her. 

         I finally told Heather today.  She was shocked, but understanding.  “I would go to the priest,” she said, “They are used to dealing with such things, and he will tell you where to go.  There are places run by the nuns for sheltering unmarried mothers.  For heaven’s sake do not tell them about your highland marriage!  They believe that’s a heathen custom and will turn you away.  But do it soon, before you start to show."  I looked down at my stomach then, relieved to see it was still flat. 

         I am so grateful to Heather for her advice.  She is a year older than me, and sensible.  She is leaving Abbott House in September to marry her village lad.  By then I’ll be away, somewhere.  I will go to the priest my next full day, make confession and throw myself on the mercy of the Church.  I am not a faithful Catholic, nor a regular at Mass these days, but I will do what I have to do to bring this child safely into the world.  After all, this baby will also be the child of Angus Abbott, and I cannot wait until he returns from South Africa so we can be married in the Church, and we three can be a real family.

Sunday, May 27, 1900

         I could barely eat the nice tea Mam had prepared for me last Sunday, I was off my food completely.  She kept looking at me strangely, and asked me how I was feeling.  I told her I was just tired, it had been a hard week.  I am still so sad, but I daren’t tell anyone, least of all my parents, that I was married in the highland way – they would have me off to the priest and confess my ‘sins’.  The odd thing is, we didn’t sin in the eyes of God, I know this in my heart.  But I have nothing to prove it, no paper, no nothing, but his bible – and it doesn’t even have his name on the flyleaf. 

         Now I fear the worst that could happen to a girl like me.  I should have had my monthlies this last week, and I have never been late before.  Could it be?  Whatever shall I do?

Sunday, May 6, 1900

         He is gone, and I am the saddest girl in Scotland.  I didn’t even see him leave on his fine white horse, off to join his regiment and then off to South Africa.

         Next week I will go up to Wick and see my parents, for the first time in a long while.  Maybe a visit with them will cheer me up, even for a little while.

         There is not even happy news in the papers.  I read that over in Canada a great fire in a lumber yard near Ottawa, the capital city, has left 17 000 people homeless – imagine!  I also read that an anarchist tried to kill the Prince of Wales while he was traveling in Europe.

         I am very tired tonight – time to catch up on some sleep!

Sunday, April 29, 1900

         Angus stopped by the Still Room on Tuesday to ask Martha for some flea powder to dose the dogs with.  While she was rummaging through the storeroom he slipped another note into my apron pocket.  I did not dare say a word.  He wanted me to bring my bible and meet him in the tea shop right after sent his family on their way after church.  This week has lasted forever!

         I knew why he wanted the bible.  However, I could not summon the courage either to go to mass or confession.  I know in my heart our love is right, but I know the priest would take a different view. 

         We went deep into the woods on this beautiful sunny day, and stopped in a little copse. Birds seemed to be singing in every tree. “Now Jeannie,” Angus told me, “We will marry in the highland way.”  We both swore our love on the bibles and jumped over the little creek.  Then we exchanged bibles and spent the rest of the afternoon in the little copse before returning back to Thurso, where I met Heather and we went back to Abbott House.  She is so full of her lad and his attention she didn’t even notice my hair was all messy!

         I know Angus is leaving soon, but I don’t want to think about it.  Soon I’ll only have the memory of this time together.