Disclaimer: All familiar characters belong to L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables series. All unfamiliar characters are of my own invention.

Storms in Africa

Chapter One

Redmond College, Nov. 1921

Carl Meredith's mind was wandering.

The lecture hall was stuffy and hot, and Professor Hinksley had a habit of droning on in a dull monotone, reciting the same dreary list of facts in exactly the same dreary words he had used for thirty-five years - something about order Neuroptera and the Amazonian rainforest.

Carl had heard it many times before, and he was only attending the lecture out of respect for Professor Hinksley, who despite being a labouring, uninteresting speaker, was a very great scientific academic, and Redmond's greatest connection with the Toronto Institution of Natural Science.

Carl would have given his right arm to be a part of one of the Institution's expeditions to South America or Africa or just about anywhere else in the world, but such dreams were as yet just that - dreams. Perhaps one day he would be a world-famous scientist and explorer, with a chair at Harvard and a Professorship, and he would go down in history as the man who discovered something astonishing in the darkest jungles of the non-inhabited world….

Gazing idly around the lecture hall, Carl discovered he was not the only one daydreaming. The majority of students present were sketching little pictures on their papers, and even among the white-haired, besuited faculty members there were one or two nodding heads. Only two people in the entire room seemed to be paying attention to the wonders of order Neuroptera - Carl's own biology tutor, Professor William Stewart, and the young girl sitting beside him.

Carl hadn't seen her before. She was not in any of the student groups he knew at Redmond, and she was so strikingly attractive that he felt sure he would have remembered her if he had seen her. She had soft, toffee-brown hair swept up in the latest style beneath a jauntily-placed cream hat, and she was leaning forward slightly, chewing her pencil, and was apparently absorbed in what Professor Hinksley was saying. By a process of rapid deduction, Carl surmised that she was probably a student of science at some other university, and a very keen one at that - there was no other reason for her to be so enthralled by Professor Hinksley's very dull and very unoriginal speech. He found himself wondering about her as the minutes ticked by, as one might on a long train journey with nothing but the other passengers to keep one entertained. Where did she come from, what did she like to do, what were her favourite things….? Such pleasant meditations occupied Carl for the rest of the lecture, and it was hardly any time at all before Professor Hinksley had made his predictable conclusion and the crowds had begun to stand up and make their way out into the adjacent function room.

Carl had been forced to sit through such post-lecture soirées several times in the past, and knew well the discomfort of being passed around from scholar to scholar and subjected to a gruelling series of questions about his academic career. He had become quite proficient at dodging the more ebullient ones, and took himself at once to a corner beside one of the ornate pillars, to lurk silently for a few minutes before facing the fray.

"Did you listen to a word of that?" said a voice in his ear. Carl turned. It was Jonathan Kennard, one of his friends from biology class. He was looking bright-eyed and was carrying two glasses of wine.

"Nope," replied Carl, taking the glass that was offered to him. "What was he saying about order Neuroptera ?"

"Not a damned idea. Something about rainforests and food chains and goodness knows what. We've heard it all before."

"I'm sure. What made you come?"

Jonathan shrugged, his eyes wandering around the room. "Apparently I have nothing better to do with my life than make idle conversation with fossilised old zoologists and botanists."

"They're not all bad." Carl's glance came to rest upon Professor Stewart, who was talking enthusiastically with a tall, distinguished-looking academic beside the open French windows.

Jonathan followed his gaze. "Oh, old Stewart's not a bad sort, really. I hear he's leading this project the Institution's got up in Africa in the spring; did you know?"

Carl knew. He had read about the proposed expedition in a corner of the October Proceedings of the Geographical Society, and had suffered a brief pang of regret that he was both too young and too inexperienced to do something like that.

"I heard about the project," he replied, neutrally, "but I didn't know he was leading it."

"Oh, yes. I heard it from Myra Villiers. Have you seen her this term? Carl, she's gorgeous!"

Carl smiled into his glass. Myra Villiers was ostentatious, flirty and loudmouthed. He could think of other words to describe her besides 'gorgeous'.

Jonathan took a very long swallow of his drink and went on. "Her father - he's on the research committee at the Toronto Institution, you know - says Stewart is going to have his work cut out for him this time round. He's chosen one of the toughest parts of the Interior to travel through, and the Institution is only allowing him to take a team of five, plus bearers."

"What's it for, anyway?" Carl asked. "I read the proposal, but all they said was it was something to do with Psodicae Liposcelis - nothing very conclusive."

Jonathan blinked. He was the sort of student who would quite happily go through his four B.A. years drinking wine and dancing with pretty girls, and there was little of academic ambition in his attitude towards studying. He did it out of necessity, and was the type who achieved the highest grades with the littlest amount of work.

"I couldn't possibly tell you," he shrugged. "But they say that because the area is so wild, anything could be living in it. None of the nearby missionaries or traders have ever dared penetrate that part of the jungle, so absolutely nothing is known about it."

The scientist in Carl responded to this news with the natural curiosity which welled up, spring-like, whenever his beloved subject grew new buds - but there was a part of him, deep down, which felt a sudden, brief thrill of adventure, such as a hero in a Ryder Haggard novel might feel at the prospect of penetrating dangerous and unknown territory. He had a sudden vision of himself in a solar-topi, brandishing a rifle and trudging through crocodile-infested waters with all his worldly belongings tied up in a sheet and lifted above his head.

"Sounds perilous," he said, amused at his own fantasy. "You don't fancy going with the expedition then?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Not me! I'm not the intrepid explorer type. Science is all very well when one is sitting comfortably in the library reading books about it, but I draw the line at tramping through the rainforest being eaten alive by insects and attacked by hostile - " The sentence went unfinished as Jonathan spotted a figure across the room, resplendently turned out in sky-blue silk and diamonds. His eyes lit up.

"Well, I'd best mingle," he said, with a roguish grin. "See you around, Carl!"

Jonathan disappeared into the elegant throng, leaving Carl standing alone beside the bar. In his solitude, Carl lazily swirled the wine around his glass, one hand in his jacket pocket, and wandered towards the French windows that opened out onto the famous Red Terrace. It was a very atmospheric walk from one end to the other, especially on balmy evenings like this one, and just the place for a romantic hand-in-hand moonlit stroll. On a summer evening the scent of roses and honeysuckle wafted across it on the breeze, and delicate golden lanterns lit up the secret, shadowy corners like fairy grottos. "A sort of urban Rainbow Valley," Di Blythe had remarked once.

"Ah, there you are, Mr Meredith!" said a loud, bass voice that interrupted the quiet moment.

Carl turned around to see Professor Stewart advancing upon him - round, twinkly and zealous - and accompanied by the same lovely girl who had been sitting beside him in the lecture.

"I wanted a word with you, my boy," said the Professor, amiably, shaking his hand in greeting.

"Did you, sir?" said Carl, absently. He was reflecting upon the very pleasant effect the backdrop of starry sky and crescent moon achieved behind the beautiful unknown girl.

"Yes, I did. Oh, forgive me - Miss Eleanor Carbury, Mr Thomas Meredith."

The girl gave Carl a warm smile, and extended her hand. Feeling rather bemused, Carl shook it.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, in a quite remarkable voice; soft and mellow, and, more surprisingly, British. "But I'm sure I've been hearing people call you Carl this evening. Did I mishear?"

"No," said Carl, smiling. "Thomas Carlyle Meredith. Everyone calls me Carl."

"May I?"

"Of course."

"Then you must call me Ellie."

"Miss Carbury is studying with Professor Hinksley at the Toronto Institution," explained the Professor. "She's been at Oxford in England these past three years, working for a PhD, and Professor Hinksley was gracious enough to lend her to me for the expedition team. A worthy asset to our group, I think. I'm sure you must have heard of the expedition, Mr Meredith?"

"The expedition to Africa?" exclaimed Carl, in surprise. This girl, in the African Interior?

"I see you have. Yes, it looks to be a very exciting experience, with plenty of work to do when we finally get out there. Psodicae Liposcelis, you know. Yes, of course you do - you wrote that extraordinary paper on it last year, I remember!"

"Hardly extraordinary," said Carl, modestly.

"Rubbish. I read it, and I should know. Of course there are other things to do out there besides; in fact, Professor Hinksley has given us quite a list, hasn't he, Miss Carbury? It won't be at all easy, but that's what makes it such a wonderful challenge! Not to mention the poisonous snakes and the relentless mosquitoes and the humid atmosphere. Oh, and the cannibal natives." The Professor's eyes twinkled with youthful mischief.

"It sounds fascinating, sir," said Carl, finding himself unexpectedly gripped by an envy of this beautiful, immaculate girl before him who was getting to live out his dream. She couldn't be any older than he was, so how was it that she seemed to be significantly better qualified than himself…?

"Oh, incidentally, Mr Meredith," the Professor went on, cheerfully, "what are you going to be doing in the spring?"

Carl gave an honest shrug. "Nothing very special, sir. I don't really know."

"Excellent. You can join us, then, if you will."

Carl stared. Had he heard correctly? Was Professor Stewart asking him to go on the expedition?

"Why, Mr Meredith, you look quite startled. I hope I haven't frightened you with all the talk of cannibals and snakes. You needn't worry, you know. Miss Carbury here is an excellent shot, I'm told."

"I'm not such a bad one myself," said Carl, before he really knew what he was saying. His head was in a whirl.

"I'm sure that's true. So, what's your answer, my boy? We haven't got all day!"

"Perhaps he needs some time to consider, Professor," suggested Ellie, her eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. "It is quite a big decision."

He couldn't say what it was, but something in her tone struck Carl as quite mocking, as though she were extending a challenge.

"I made that decision years ago," he replied, with a frown.

"Before the offer was made?" said Ellie, eyebrows arched.

"I mean I've always known what answer I would give if anybody ever offered me such an opportunity."

"And what is that?" asked the Professor.

It was the moment for a dramatic pause, but Carl was too full of excitement and disbelief to worry about making a grand effect. "I'll come."

"Thank goodness for that," said the Professor, as if he had known all along what the answer would be. "I need a young chap like yourself on a project like this. I'm getting too old to go gallivanting around the globe with only a couple of bearers and the wife."

"Your wife's coming, sir?" gaped Carl.

"Absolutely. Mrs Stewart is an excellent walker. She's been with me on plenty of expeditions, and she's proficient in all the major African dialects, which makes communication with the natives much easier."

"Surely you don't object to women working in the field?" remarked Ellie, turning her dancing eyes to Carl again.

"Not at all." He was beginning to realise that she was not challenging him, but teasing him. "Not if they're up to the task."

"That's a very arrogant comment for a man who has never set foot in the jungle. What if you're not up to the task?"

"I have some experience of expeditions abroad," replied Carl, tersely. "Although most of them involved more wading through knee-deep mud behind the German lines and less natural research..."

He hadn't meant to be so brusque, and he regretted it almost at once, but Ellie didn't seem to mind. She had the grace to blush a little, but her gaze didn't falter. It was as though she had been testing him, to see if he was a worthy ally. Carl wondered with a queer feeling what her conclusion was so far.

"Well," said the Professor, looking at his watch, "I'd better go and have a word with Hinksley before he slips away. Mr Meredith, come up to my office some time on Tuesday if you can spare the time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir."

As he disappeared, Ellie smiled and gave her hand to Carl again. "It was nice to finally meet you, Carl," she said. "I'm sure we'll see each other again before too long."

"I'm sure we will. Goodnight … Ellie."

"That's good," she said, with a lyrical laugh. "Do you know, I was dreadfully afraid you were going to be the bashful, stammering type."

Her eyes, Carl noticed now, were a very soft brown, like her hair. They sparkled when the moonlight struck them, and crinkled when she smiled.

"What made you think that?"

She gave a shrug. "I wasn't sure, I just thought perhaps you might be. The Professor's talked about you quite a lot, and I thought to myself - a young, inexperienced, barely qualified student who hasn't even got his B.A. yet …." She left the sentence hanging, and bit her lip impishly. "But now I'm certain that you're not," she added.

"You seem to have formed a lot of impressions about me after startlingly few words having passed between us," said Carl, feeling rather amused.

Ellie tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and smiled up at him. "I'm afraid I do that quite a lot - make judgements on people before I know them. My father used to say it was my worst failing."

"Well, I expect you'll get to know me fairly well over the next few months," replied Carl, with a teasing grin. Any game she wanted to play with him, he would rise to the challenge. "After all, we are going to be trapped in the jungle together for quite a long time."

Ellie studied him for a moment or two, her head tilted playfully to one side.

"Yes," she said, softly. "So we are."

Carl watched her departing figure with a curious sensation. It looked as though this expedition was going to be more of an adventure than he'd originally thought!

The Eagle Library was Carl's haven at Redmond, where he could escape the problems and bothers of the outside world and bury himself in a book for as long as he wanted to, without danger of interruption. It was a sanctuary within ancient and hallowed walls, where third and fourth year students only were permitted to tread, and it had the air of something like an exclusive London gentlemen's club. No girls were allowed to penetrate the sacred boundaries unless invited by two or more male student patrons, and only then on certain days of the week. The Eagle Committee, as it was commonly known around campus, met monthly to invent new rules and tinker about with the old ones - usually ending in a drunken party in the outer courtyard which had to be dispersed by several broad-shouldered groundsmen. But despite all the bad organisation and the reputation for rowdiness, the Eagle was a refuge for many fellows like Carl, who simply wanted an hour of peace and quiet to read with a glass of Scotch. There were more comfortable nooks in this very Victorianesque room than anywhere else in Kingsport, and a vast array of soft armchairs and embroidered ottomans; and ever-present the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke and musty books that never quite disappeared, no matter how many windows and doors were thrown open.

It was here one Thursday afternoon that Shirley Blythe found Carl, with his feet up on the edge of a coffee table and his nose buried in The Interior, by Prof. C.G. Wallis.

"Looks deep," said Shirley, knocking Carl's feet to the floor and sitting down on the table.

"Oh, it's you. No, not really - in fact, it's quite funny!"

"Funny? To spend four months in the cannibal-infested jungle with no means of escape?" Shirley shook his brown head. "You're mad."

"No, I'm not," grinned Carl, tossing Prof. Wallis aside. "This chap has been out to Africa seven times over twenty years, and although he has an appallingly sensationalistic turn of phrase, it sounds as though jungle expeditions aren't as dreadful as everyone's been telling me."

"Have you told your folks?"

Carl nodded. "I wrote to Dad last week. No reply yet."

"Will he mind you going?"

"I don't see why he should. I've done worse things."

"Exactly," said Shirley, quietly. "He'll be proud of you. It's a big break, especially since you're still a mere student."

"I know," agreed Carl, who had been puzzling over that fact ever since the offer had been made. He frowned thoughtfully. "I really wish I knew why Stewart picked me. I mean, he's got dozens of other students to choose from, and plenty of qualified scientists at the Institution or even here in the faculty! Why inexperienced, non-qualified little me?"

"You could ask him," suggested Shirley, with beautiful simplicity. "But I expect it's because you're very good at what you do."

"Writing essays on dipterous arthropods and turning up to lectures?" snorted Carl, disbelievingly. He sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should ask him."

"I would," said Shirley, rifling in his pocket for some loose change. "Fancy a drink?"

"Mm," said Carl, absently.

"Oh, by the way, I had a phone call from Una the other day…"

"Really? How is she?"

"She sounds exhausted, but very excited about this thing she's getting up at Christmas."

"What thing?"

"This charity Winter Gala thing - you remember, she was talking about it all summer."

Carl cast his mind back. Una had been working in Charlottetown for nearly two years now, volunteering for everything under the sun and becoming a little ray of light in the dark places of the world, just as he always knew she would. There was not a charity function she was not involved with, nor an orphaned child whose name she didn't know, and Christmas was bound to be the time when her eager little spirit found its best outlet.

"Oh, yes, I know. Displays and stalls and dances and banquets and theatrical shows and all of that, isn't it?"

"All of that, and more, by the sound of it," grinned Shirley. "Have you told her about your little trip yet?"

"No. I'm waiting for a good time. You know how she'll be, worrying about snake bites and hunting traps and carnivorous beasts devouring me in my sleep."

"She's not that paranoid, Carl…"

"No, but it always makes me feel like a brute for being the cause of her sweet little soul worrying."

"She's not a shy, nervous little girl any more, you know," Shirley pointed out, gallantly. "Ever since she began this Charlottetown work, she's turned into a capable, confident young woman. Still as sweet and reserved as always, but not so much that you have to protect and shield her all the time."

Carl was forced to see his point. He and Una had spent the whole summer together at Glen St. Mary, while all the others had been coming and going with lots of things to do and not much time to spare, and he had come to see over those few weeks that his sister - the sister he had always referred to as his little sister, even though she wasn't - had undergone rather a transformation. Charlottetown, like Glen St. Mary, was very lucky to have her; a pillar and a stalwart ally in every time of need.

"Incidentally," Shirley went on, "she's coming up to Kingsport next week for some kind of meeting, and she wanted me to tell you to keep at least three days free for her."

"Why three days particularly?" asked Carl, raising an eyebrow.

Shirley shrugged. "Don't know, but it seems like a good time to tell her, wouldn't you say?"

Una arrived at the station exactly a week after her phone call to Shirley, and Carl was ready and waiting to greet her as she stepped onto the platform.

"Oh, it seems like forever!" she cried, flinging her arms around him. "And yet it's only been eight and a half weeks!"

Carl found himself feeling more serene than he had for a long time. Una had that effect on people. He took in her neat little outfit of peaches and browns, and the smiling, dancing eyes beneath a pretty autumnal cloche hat with a velvet rose on the side.

"Do you like it?" asked Una, blushing happily. "Faith and Nan took me shopping in Charlottetown before I left, and persuaded me to buy this. Do you think it's a bit glamorous for me?"

"Don't be silly, it looks lovely," said Carl, truthfully. He hadn't seen his 'little' sister looking this bright and healthy since before …. well, since before they'd all grown up. "You look lovely. How have you been?"

"Oh, so busy you wouldn't believe it," said Una, draping her arm through his and letting him lead her out to the taxi rank. "I've had so many meetings and rehearsals, and I think I've got lists coming out of my ears."

"All this for the Christmas Gala?"

"Yes! It's going to be wonderful, and Dad and Rosemary have promised to come up to Charlottetown and stay for the weekend with me so they can see some of the events, and Faith is going to persuade Jem to spend Christmas at the Glen this year so they can go too. And Jerry and Nan are coming, and Shirley promised; Rilla and Ken can't because they'll be in Toronto with Mr and Mrs Ford, but Di said she might be able to get a few days off work to come down, and Mary Vance said….." Una had to pause for breath and caught Carl's mirthful glance. "Oh, Carl, I'm sorry - I'm talking too much, aren't I? And I promised myself I wouldn't bore you with all my silly business when I've been aching to see you for weeks…"

"Una, ssshh," said Carl, raising an arm to summon a taxi. "I really want to know everything you've been doing, and if you hadn't begun to tell me I should have made you anyway."

"Oh, but it's nothing important, really, I…."

"Of course it's important. It's very important from what Shirley tells me, and from what I remember you telling me over the summer. I'm wild to hear all about it, but first let's go and find a cup of tea. I skipped breakfast I was in such a rush to meet your train!"

"Oh, you should have said something!" cried Una. "I wouldn't have asked you to meet me if I'd thought it was too early."

"I wanted you to be early. That way we get to spend more time together, and there's something I want to talk to you about as well."

A cab drew up with perfect timing at the pavement where they stood waiting, and before long they were stepping out in Kingsport town near a little café Una had loved to sit in when she had done her Household Science course at the college.

"It hasn't changed a bit," she sighed, contentedly, slipping into the window seat and staring out at the view.

Carl ordered them some tea and cakes, and took his first real opportunity to study his sister.

She was almost glowing with youth and freshness, and her pale cheeks had a soft rosiness about them which made her eyes look brighter. Faith and Nan had made it their mission since their respective marriages to turn Una into the attractive, adorable little woman she had become, and Carl marvelled at the result. The new light that shone from Una owed a good part of its glory to their good taste in fashion and colour, but more by far to Una's own seraphic personality. She finally seemed happy, after all those horrible years of waiting and worrying, and the loneliness that must have crept into her loving little heart when Faith had gone away, with Jerry and Nan soon to follow. Now she had a purpose and a life of her own, filled with compassionate deeds and community involvement. She had friends in Charlottetown as dear to her as their scattered Rainbow Valley group, and she loved working with the little children in the schools and orphanages, many of whom had lost fathers and older brothers during the war, and who had no Rainbow Valleys to play in. Perhaps it was true after all, thought Carl, that God shines through in us when we do His work. Carl wasn't sure if he really believed in God himself. How could anyone who had been through what he'd been through not question his faith? But when he looked at Una he saw with his own eyes what sometimes his reasoning refused to see. There was something truly good and pure in the world, and if only ten people in the world were like Una, everything they had fought for three years ago had been worth it.

"Carl? Have I got something on my face?"

Carl snapped out of his reverie and found that he had been staring absently at her, and her big, anxious eyes were gazing back at him.

"Sorry. No, no, you haven't. I was miles away."

"I'd noticed," she said, with a smile.

"So, tell me everything," he entreated, making himself comfortable in his seat and fixing her with interested eyes. "What have you been doing?"

Una launched into her tale; how Gladys Clow and Paula Harris had elected her to the Gala Board chair in September, how many events she was organising and what equipment she was having to track down, from paint and crepe paper to Medieval gowns and recipes for cakes and punches and all sorts of elaborate delicacies.

"I just hope it's all going to be all right," she finished, with a nervous sigh. "We've spent so many weeks planning, and all the children and the patients at the hospital and the nursing home are so looking forward to it, if anything goes wrong I shall…."

"It won't go wrong, I'm sure," Carl assured her, gently. "I don't think anybody has ever tried this hard to give those people a Merry Christmas, and even if you hadn't planned it so well as you have I'm sure they'd be delighted."

Una smiled warmly at her brother, and poured them both another cup of tea. "You're a darling, Carl. And you will come for some of the events, won't you?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," said Carl, firmly.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about? I've been chattering on thoughtlessly - you should have stopped me! Is everything all right?"

"Perfectly. It's just that I have a piece of news. Good news."

"Tell me!" cried Una, eagerly.

"I've been asked to take part in a scientific expedition to Africa in the New Year. One of my Professors is leading it for the Toronto Institution, and he wants me to go along to help out."

Una grew pale. "Africa!" she gasped. "You mean a real, true expedition - like exploring the jungle and camping in tents and collecting specimens?"

Carl laughed. "Yes, just like that."

"Oh, that's….that's wonderful! Oh, Carl, I'm so pleased for you!"

"I hoped you would be. You're not to worry about me, you know. I'll be all right."

He had seen the pale, frightened expression in her eyes as she congratulated him, and was, just as he had anticipated, feeling like a brute.

"I know you will," said Una, wearily, "but I can't help worrying. All the snakes and beetles and spiders!"

"I'm used to all that."

"But there'll be poisonous things out in Africa, won't there?"

"Nothing to get fidgety about. All creatures, humans included, lash out when they're threatened. They all have inbuilt defence mechanisms to protect themselves. If we don't annoy the snakes and beetles and spiders, they won't hurt us."

Una sighed, rubbing her temple with her fingers. "I'm sure you're right," she said, softly, "but you will be extra careful, won't you? And don't eat anything strange or get sick, or go off alone…"

"Una," interrupted Carl, reaching for her hand across the table and giving it a brotherly squeeze, "you're the dearest, loveliest girl in all the world, and I'll be fine. Trust me. The jungle will be a challenge, but nothing I can't handle." Ellie, on the other hand... thought Carl to himself. That strange girl had never really been out of his thoughts since he had first seen her at Hinksley's lecture. Odd, this hold she seemed to have over him...

Carl reminded himself forcefully that this was no time to be daydreaming about enchanting females, and gave Una's hand another squeeze. Blue eyes looked into blue eyes and Una managed a sweet smile.

"All right. I trust you. Does Dad know?"

"Yes, I wrote the week before last. He's a bit nervy but he's pleased I've got this chance."

"Oh, I am too, Carl, don't think I'm not. Why, you could be another David Livingstone or Alan Quatermain!"

"I doubt it!" laughed Carl, remembering his vision of the solar topi and the crocodile-infested swamp. "This is going to be an ordinary, non-sensational, purely academic expedition, and there won't be any diamond mines or long-lost husbands or cannibal villages."

Una leaned forward earnestly. "Will you write to me? Will you write and tell me the honest, actual truth? Faith will want you to write her letters with lots of embellishments about wild animals and natives, but I want you to tell me just what happens. Everything, so I know you're all right. Will you promise?"

"Faithfully," agreed Carl, with a smile.

They shook hands on it over the teapot, much to the amusement of the waitress that served them, and at that moment Carl truly did believe that he would be able to tell Una everything. How wrong we are when we're young and naïve, before the world has played its tricks on us. Some things - many things - Una would not be hearing about in Carl's letters.

Although this fic will centre mainly around Carl and his doings in Africa and afterwards, this is by no means the last we will see of Una, Shirley and the other P.E.I. characters we love so much. They will keep appearing throughout the story - I just couldn't keep them out even if I wanted to, which I don't! Happy reading, and please leave a review!

xxx