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Authors: Mayte Uceda
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her hand.
“When they married, she insisted he leave his job at the mine and get a job at the distillery in Glen Ord, near Inverness. That was when they bought the Croyard Road cottage. Elisabeth was a very pretty woman. You’ve met Sophie. She’s her mother’s daughter, all right. She inherited Elisabeth’s looks and beautiful red hair.” She made a show of looking skyward. “God willing, that’s all she inherited.
“Soon Kenzie was born. At that time, we talked often. Elisabeth never got used to the quiet, uneventful life in Beauly, always complaining that there was never anything to do here and how, if she’d known, she never would have insisted William leave the mine. She could have stayed in Kirkcaldy or Edinburgh. Seven years later, Sophie was born.”
Mrs. Munro paused and Berta offered her more tea; the story had caught their interest.
“Thank you, love,” Mrs. Munro said before continuing. “Where was I?”
“Sophie was born,” Rebecca prompted.
“Ah yes. As I was saying, seven years later, Sophie was born, and three years after that, Elisabeth left, abandoning all three of them.”
Rebecca choked out an exclamation: “What kind of mother abandons her children?”
“They exist, love, they exist. If only that was the worst of it. Elisabeth’s departure led William into a deep depression; he began to drink and he lost his job. In a moment of lucidity he sent the children to their grandfather on Skye, and they lived there for ten years. William would go to visit them when he got up enough nerve to leave the bottle for three days in a row. Then he’d return to Beauly, to the home where he’d been happy with Elisabeth. The poor man never got over her leaving.”
“Where did she go?” Rebecca wanted to know.
Mrs. Munro shrugged.
“I’ve heard she went to Edinburgh alone; some say she went with a man. Who knows?”
“She never saw her children again?
“She never returned to town. But I know Sophie spends time with her.”
“And her brother?”
“Oh, no. He went through a lot, watching his father turn into a drunk with no desire to move on after the abandonment. Kenzie was ten years old when his mother left. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven her. He quit school when he was quite young, poor thing. His grandfather was not a man of means, and the boy had to go to work. When the grandfather died, the children returned to Beauly. Kenzie got a job at Cameron’s mechanic shop, here in town, and Sophie stayed in school. Last year she started university in Edinburgh, and during the school year she lived there with her mother. She was a wee thing when it all happened. Her heart isn’t as full of bitterness as her brother’s.”
They sat silently, their cups empty.
“How sad,” murmured Rebecca.
“Yes, quite sad. Sometimes I’m surprised the children have turned out as well as they have, without a mother, stuck on an island with the grandfather—who I heard was a grumpy old man. Poor dears.”
Moved by the story, the girls tried to lighten things up a bit by talking about the Celtic festival. Mrs. Munro knew all about it.
“Oh yes,” she said, with a burst of enthusiasm. “Two days of absolute madness.”
“Sophie said she and her brother play in a band,” Rebecca said.
“True. The whole town is very proud. The other three musicians are from Inverness. It’s a pleasure to see them; they’ve got wonderful stage presence. They wear kilts for all their performances and display a keen passion for Scottish customs.”
“They all wear kilts?” Rebecca asked.
“That’s right, love. By the way, if you go to the festival, be sure to rent a dress from Mrs. Ferguson. She has the most beautiful Celtic attire.”
The haggis, reminiscent of Spanish morcilla , was much more delicious than they’d imagined. The description of its components was not appetizing, but they had to admit they couldn’t argue with the taste.
That evening, when everyone was seated at the table,
“When they married, she insisted he leave his job at the mine and get a job at the distillery in Glen Ord, near Inverness. That was when they bought the Croyard Road cottage. Elisabeth was a very pretty woman. You’ve met Sophie. She’s her mother’s daughter, all right. She inherited Elisabeth’s looks and beautiful red hair.” She made a show of looking skyward. “God willing, that’s all she inherited.
“Soon Kenzie was born. At that time, we talked often. Elisabeth never got used to the quiet, uneventful life in Beauly, always complaining that there was never anything to do here and how, if she’d known, she never would have insisted William leave the mine. She could have stayed in Kirkcaldy or Edinburgh. Seven years later, Sophie was born.”
Mrs. Munro paused and Berta offered her more tea; the story had caught their interest.
“Thank you, love,” Mrs. Munro said before continuing. “Where was I?”
“Sophie was born,” Rebecca prompted.
“Ah yes. As I was saying, seven years later, Sophie was born, and three years after that, Elisabeth left, abandoning all three of them.”
Rebecca choked out an exclamation: “What kind of mother abandons her children?”
“They exist, love, they exist. If only that was the worst of it. Elisabeth’s departure led William into a deep depression; he began to drink and he lost his job. In a moment of lucidity he sent the children to their grandfather on Skye, and they lived there for ten years. William would go to visit them when he got up enough nerve to leave the bottle for three days in a row. Then he’d return to Beauly, to the home where he’d been happy with Elisabeth. The poor man never got over her leaving.”
“Where did she go?” Rebecca wanted to know.
Mrs. Munro shrugged.
“I’ve heard she went to Edinburgh alone; some say she went with a man. Who knows?”
“She never saw her children again?
“She never returned to town. But I know Sophie spends time with her.”
“And her brother?”
“Oh, no. He went through a lot, watching his father turn into a drunk with no desire to move on after the abandonment. Kenzie was ten years old when his mother left. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven her. He quit school when he was quite young, poor thing. His grandfather was not a man of means, and the boy had to go to work. When the grandfather died, the children returned to Beauly. Kenzie got a job at Cameron’s mechanic shop, here in town, and Sophie stayed in school. Last year she started university in Edinburgh, and during the school year she lived there with her mother. She was a wee thing when it all happened. Her heart isn’t as full of bitterness as her brother’s.”
They sat silently, their cups empty.
“How sad,” murmured Rebecca.
“Yes, quite sad. Sometimes I’m surprised the children have turned out as well as they have, without a mother, stuck on an island with the grandfather—who I heard was a grumpy old man. Poor dears.”
Moved by the story, the girls tried to lighten things up a bit by talking about the Celtic festival. Mrs. Munro knew all about it.
“Oh yes,” she said, with a burst of enthusiasm. “Two days of absolute madness.”
“Sophie said she and her brother play in a band,” Rebecca said.
“True. The whole town is very proud. The other three musicians are from Inverness. It’s a pleasure to see them; they’ve got wonderful stage presence. They wear kilts for all their performances and display a keen passion for Scottish customs.”
“They all wear kilts?” Rebecca asked.
“That’s right, love. By the way, if you go to the festival, be sure to rent a dress from Mrs. Ferguson. She has the most beautiful Celtic attire.”
The haggis, reminiscent of Spanish morcilla , was much more delicious than they’d imagined. The description of its components was not appetizing, but they had to admit they couldn’t argue with the taste.
That evening, when everyone was seated at the table,
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