Hello again!

Thank you so much for the follows and favourite, and sorry for the wait. But here it is!


It was early morning, the sun still barely rising above the horizon as she made her way towards the shop. She was careful to avoid the biggest puddles of water and mud, as well as the areas of deeper wet mud. Though the streets were cobbled, there was somehow always mud or dry earth to be found. The middle and edges of the street were always the worst after rain, so she opted to walk in the middle of the left-hand side of the road.

Avoiding getting her shoes dirty somehow made the walk to her shop shorter than usual. Some women were already waiting and she greeted them with a smile as she unlocked the door. Once inside, she dried her feet off on a tiny carpet made of useless rags that always lay just in front of the door. Pulling the curtains aside, she removed her gloves and put them in her pocket.

"I am terribly sorry ladies. I was preoccupied with some matters."

"Oh, hopefully nothing severe?"

"Not at all, my boy brought a friend for the evening meal and I simply had to keep him out of the rain, so my hands were full with two young boys this morning instead of the usual one."

They laughed at her words, and she smiled back at them, before motioning for her wares. It was still a week or so left until something new came in, yet these ladies had not been in since the last delivery two weeks prior. Something would surely catch their eye.

"How much would six ells of this ribbon be?"

She made her way over to the lady that came often enough to be called a regular. The lady smiled at her as Marta looked down at the blue sateen ribbon, one of the cheaper ribbons, though one wouldn't be able to tell by simply looking at it. She smiled at the lady and gave her a soft nod.

"2 pennies and a halfpenny."

By the anxious yet happy aura that surrounded the woman, the ribbon was surely for her daughter. She was at the to be eligible for marriage and as any girl at that age, was to be dressed no less than the nines. Marta smiled as she received the coins and walked over to the cupboard and placed them in the locked drawer. Returning with scissors and a measuring stick, she measured and cut the desired six ells.

"Thank you, Mistress Olsen."

"Thank you for your continued patronage, Mistress Boyd."

Cutting, receiving coins, showing off her wares. It was all the usual. As busy as usual. Only a short jacket to repair while she waited for the boys broke the monotony of it all. Yet, despite always being tired of doing the same every day, it made her happy. She spent every day looking at pretty things and imagining the garments her customers described to her as they looked for the most fitting ribbon or lace trim.

After finishing the repairs on the jacket, she even had the time to sketch out some new dresses for the coming winter and spring. Luckily she had a notion of what was to come and what to order to feed the demand. Once tired of sketching the commercial designs, she began drawing a dress for herself in the coming fashion. It was more fun. Imagining the colours, fabric and prints that would suit her best and how they would work with the garments she already had. Maybe some embroidery for her own amusement.

The bell rang and she looked up to see Sander and Davie entering the shop. Sander had the wherewithal to clean off his shoes and Davie dutifully followed his example. She smiled and found the list of items she wanted them to buy as well as the coins approximately needed for the purchases. Davie looked around the shop, seemingly entranced enough by all her goods to linger. The ladies inside only cast them a glance, Davie's clothes good enough for them to pay him no further attention. Good.

"How was class, Davie?"

He turned towards her, not having fully heard her words. Then hurried over and stammered out that it had been good. She smiled, giving Sander the note and coins, watching as he put them in his coin purse. He always carried it around with him even when it was empty. It somehow felt good to see he had some quirks of his own, as she had her fair share of them.

"Did the Father send you back with a note?"

"Yes, here, mama."

She raised her brow at the wax seal, not having taken Father Lorne as such an official man. Yet she broke it and unfolded the letter. Davie was quiet and well behaved in class, not even whispering back when Sander tried to talk apparently. He couldn't read very well for his age, seven like Sander, but he had absorbed the knowledge like a sponge. She smiled at that and it remained there as he offered to reduce the tuition fee if he remained as well behaved and eager. Father Lorne even praised the boy for being a very fast learner, stating this as another reason for the offered reduction. He didn't require the payment to start until two weeks from now, as to assess the boy further. Though he noted he needed to learn reading on his own time to make up for the time lost.

All in all, she had been right about the Father. A fair and just man with a kind heart. Qualities she expected from a priest and teacher, though these were actually very rare in the local priests and teachers. Folding the letter, she pocketed it and folded her hands over the top of the cupboard she used as a cashier and desk.

"The Father sang your praises, Davie. You'll continue school, so unfortunately I lose what might be an asset to my shop. Aleks and I will help you with the reading, though according to the Father, it should take no time at all before you read better than the both of us."

Though she did exaggerate slightly, it was only to keep Davie from being too embarrassed. Though it had been no lie that Lorne considered him to be a willing and fast learner. He smiled softly at her and she smiled warmly at him, before looking at Sander. She couldn't give too much attention to Davie, even though he sorely needed it. To be the real child, yet watching the parent favour another was a feeling she knew all too well. She adjusted his scarf and waistcoat before she rose and kissed the side of his head.

"Now, would the two of you be so kind as to go to the market?"

A lady was watching her, seemingly not wanting to interrupt her, yet ready to inquire about one thing or the other. Both Davie and Sander nodded, Sander even giving her a mock salute that she returned, before leaving. Checking her pocket for the scissors, she made her way over to the lady.

"How may I be of help?"

"My lady, Lady Garioch, inquires whether Mistress Olsen can pay a visit to their townhouse this coming week."

The woman almost stumbled over the words, clearly not ones she frequently used and glanced down at a folded piece of paper every now and then. Nodding, she motioned for the woman to follow her over to the cupboard. Retrieving the book in which she wrote down all things to remember, she dipped her quill into the pot of ink and looked back at the woman.

"Did Lady Garioch provide a day and time which she would prefer the visit?"

"Midday, both Monday and Wednesday are both acceptable."

Looking through the self-drawn calendar, she checked the days and dates. Monday there would be a fitting just before midday. A fitting could take anywhere from half an hour to three hours, so she checked Wednesday the same week. Nothing. Blank. Drawing a star, symbolising a visit to a titled lady's home, she looked back up at the woman in front of her.

"Wednesday, midday. For what occasion does the Lady require the garment to be appropriate for?"

The woman handed her the note she had been holding tightly until now. It contained much more information than the woman had been able to provide. It also stated that the lady was deeply regretful for having to send a maidservant. Forcing the smile to remain on her face, she wrote the abbreviation for a formal evening gown. That made her smile wider, as those were her favourites. The lady had no idea what she wanted for the occasion and she almost felt her stomach tingle at all the ideas she could bring forth.

"Thank you. Now, can you perhaps describe the Lady's appearance to me? In order for me to bring what would suit her complexion."

"Tall, light hair she curls every time she changes garments, dark blue eyes, my Lady's very bonnie."

She smiled as the woman described the lady. It wasn't the description itself that made her smile, however. It was the boasting manner of the woman as she finally used her own words to talk. A Scot with all the exuberant warmth she had come to expect from one. Nodding along, she took one of her sketches and wrote down the details.

"I will bring colours and fabrics which will surely complement the Lady's beauty. Until Wednesday then."

"Aye, until then."

A sigh escaped her the moment the woman closed the door behind her. Despite loving this, it was certainly tiring. Looking at the two women who were looking through her selection of finely woven wool and silk, she sat down on her stool and rubbed her hands over her face. Weary of the rouge still on her lips. Her eyes remained on the two women. Though rare, there had been instances of missing spools of lace or ribbons. They left without taking anything. If they did, they deserved it. She had been watching them like a hawk, after all.

Looking over at the fire beside her, she felt the numb pricking of tiredness throughout her body. Forcing her body to stand from the stool, she walked over to and placed another two logs in the fireplace. Then hunched down directly in front of the fireplace, mindful of her frilled skirts and dress. The flames danced as she watched them slowly engulf the new logs, the old ones collapsed into nothing more than charcoal and ash. Being so close to the fireplace, she felt the warmth wash over her like waves.

She closed her eyes. It was almost too much. the memories the warmth conjured up.

Memories of sunburnt shoulders and knees, and of sweat dripping down her forehead. She could taste the strong and too warm alcohol and dried fruits she had once eaten and almost choked on the memories of the stuffy stench of smoke. Her fingers tingled with memories of flipping through countless book pages and running them along the edges of furniture of rough wood. It reminded her of content sighs, laughter and the taste of salt. Of cool grass and the feeling of walking on warm rocks.

With her eyes closed, it almost felt real. As if she was experiencing all those moments again.

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and forehead.

It felt like it all had transpired more than a lifetime ago. Edinburgh's summers could never compare. Neither could its winters. She missed it. How she missed all of it. The long hot summers when the sun didn't set and she would take daily baths in the blue ocean and dark lakes. The short autumns when the ground was covered in brightly coloured leaves and how cold her muddy fingers were after harvesting vegetables, fruits and picking berries. The long winters when the sun didn't rise, the only light being the moon, snow and candles, and searching for the almond in the Christmas porridge. The short springs when life and light returned, the smell of flowers and spending every waking hour in the sun.

Back then, everything had been so easy and joyful. All these memories had simply been everyday occurrences that she had not paid any attention to. Rather, they had seemed insignificant back then. Just one memory similar to too many others, one she would remake next year at the latest.

Now she could not help but long for the opportunity to relive them.

She opened her eyes and stared into the flames. Perhaps it was not so much the country of her birth that she missed. Perhaps it was the people and the multitude of memories of those people; their laughs, their stories and their mere presences that she so sorely missed. She had decided long ago not to think about it all, to banish all the thoughts and memories of them as to not feel her throat tighten and the stinging in her heart that she felt now. It stung worse than stepping on a fishing hook and having to pull it out. It felt like she was choking on a dried and hard piece of bread. It hurt.

Shaking her head, she held her knees as she rose. Then rubbed her face once more. It wouldn't do if a customer walked in to see her like this. The warmth had reminded her of just why she tried her best not to dwell on her many memories anymore. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the dancing flames one last time, then turned briskly away.

Busying herself from the lingering memories that she could not just brush off now that they had resurfaced, she tidied her makeshift desk. She organized the note of Lady Garioch's appearance, the various designs and the receipt for the repair of the short jacket. Then flipped through the pages of her calendar, just to make sure there was nothing she had forgotten in the excitement of investigating Mister Malcolm and-

She had to retrieve the prints from Mister Malcolm tomorrow.

The bruises on her arm were fresh, still mostly red and purple where had he held her in an iron grip. He even had someone shadow her, most likely the Frenchman, on her way home. These were fully justifiable reasons for her to not look forward to the meeting. Yet, the little side of her that had noticed the similarities between Malcolm and her father, was almost excited at the thought.

Shaking her head, she scoffed and smiled at herself. She could not be fully sane, almost looking forward to seeing a man who might very well kill her for knowing about his past, just because he reminded her of her father. It should send shivers down her spine, the mere thought of having to see him again. If she was fully sane, she would pay someone to retrieve the print and do her best to never see him again. No matter how afraid or at least anxious about the meeting she should be, she found herself looking forward to whatever reaction he would have to see her again. Whether this reaction would be like her father's as well.

Perhaps it was cruel of her to compare him so much to her father.

She had not approached him in the most honest way, nor had she been all that polite about what she knew of Malcolm's past. Rather, most would have reacted the way he did, seeing as it was natural to be angry in some way if someone unknown suddenly approached with what might be threats. Sighing, she sat down on the stool and leaned against the wall. Indeed, she could have brought it up more delicately. She should have. At least she could apologise to him for her behaviour now that she had recognised it. It was the least she could do, seeing as she probably almost caused him a heart attack.

With another sigh, she rested her head against the wall. Having been surprised by Davie the previous evening, she had not had the time to truly reflect on how she had acted. If someone had done the same thing to her, she would likely have reacted worse. She was lucky he had not reached for a blade to end her there and then.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts and by the time she was fully out of her thoughts, Sander and Davie stood on the other side of the desk and stared at her. She closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled at the two boys. The basket was full of the ingredients she had written down and nothing else. By the look of the coin purse, they could have afforded at least a few biscuits or candy. Glancing out of the windows just above their shoulders, she was surprised to notice just how late it had gotten. It was evening already.

"Could you be so kind as to draw the curtains and cover the embers while I write some things down?"

"Sure."

"Aye!"

She watched them for a moment, then unlocked the drawer with the day's earnings. After emptying her pockets of scissors and the coins she had put there while it was still busy, she pulled out the drawer and emptied it. Then counted each one and wrote down the income in her ledger. Once finished, after counting the coins just a few more times just to be sure, she unlocked the drawer with the week's earnings and put the coins inside. It was a hidden drawer on the side of the cupboard, hidden behind one of the decorative borders. She closed and locked it, then pushed the border back in place. Then gathered her things and locked the cupboard.

"Let me take the basket. It looks heavy."

After locking the door to the shop, she tried it once, she reached for the basket. Sander scowled at her, then shook his head and handed it to her. She smiled down at him and shook her at his behaviour. It was starting to look like he was at the age where he wanted to prove he was growing up and could handle carrying a basket on his own. The basket rested in the nook of her elbow as she put on her gloves and tied on her hat. The weather had grown much colder than she had thought it would. Winter was coming early this year.