New Manse,
Glen St Mary,
April, 1924
Jo,
A letter arrived this morning, postmark Singapore. The postman gave me a very dubious look, as if he thought it intended for some other John Meredith, not a minister. Such was not the case. A thorough examination yielded Una's account of her arrival at the Anglo-Chinese School on Barker Road. I confess, I was half-afraid to read it. The envelope – an elegant thing itself – revealed paper so fine and thin I was afraid of tearing it. Bible paper, little Bruce calls it. I cannot think how anyone ever took ink to it – all those watermarked cranes.
I was glad later that I risked the reading. Una sounded more herself than she has since the war ended. No – since Courcellete. Everyone thought I never noticed, but what kind of parent overlooks his child's grief? It was bad enough I did it when they were young. To do it again would be unpardonable.
I wouldn't have wished Una so far, it's true. But in letting her go, I find you gave her a purpose where others couldn't. The Glen will gossip. Mick Drew of the post office is the least of it. But the Glen does not have Una's letters. In them, you've given me my girl back.
With love, blessings, and gratitude,
J.M.
P.S. Nearly forgot; Una and Carl arrived safely. Carl befriended a water vole and Una tackled some much overdue reading.
P.P.S. Carl starts teaching at Raffles College in the autumn. He is differently, if equally delighted with his lot.
Martyrs' Manse,
Kingsport,
April 1924
John,
Not me, but God, as you well know. It was Him that sent Una to Kingsport and then to us when Phil and I couldn't get the secretariat to see sense. I don't know what she did to sway them – Phil swears it was her shortbread that did it. I fear that in this, she is, as is so often the case, right.
We were relieved to hear of hers and Carl's safe arrival. Winter crossings always unnerve me, much to my parishioners' amusement. I fear I would make a poor excuse of a fisherman, especially in ice season, as they often remind me. Having been called to other purposes, I closed the latest prayer meeting with Eternal Father, Strong to Save expressly.
Speaking of fishing – it's the first of the season's fish suppers this evening, and I promised to help set-up. Knox Church, Culross is hosting. The hope is to finally and fully integrate the congregation into my parish.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Jo
P.S. I am considering a theme of Discipleship for Sunday given the lectionary. Will it do?
New Manse,
Glen St Mary
April 1924
Jo,
You want no instruction on sermonizing, as this Christmas past stands testament. For surety, I'll run it past Norman Douglas's explosive opinions, anyway. He's my litmus test for a good sermon.
Secretariats are, alas, often won with food. Ours became considerably warmer when meetings concluded with Rosemary's soups instead of Martha's Ditto.
Speaking of, they're amassing in my parlour. I can hear the wave of gossip drifting up the stairs to the tune of Victorian Rose, formerly of West House. It's all chatter about Singapore. How Glen Notes ever became so short of writers that The Lowbridge Herald bought it astonishes me afresh. To do them justice, I really believe the secretariat feel it isn't gossiping if they talk to Rosemary instead of me. It's in much the same way that she never seems to consider it gossip to relay the lot to me. Parse that at your leisure.
Still, I'd better go intervene. Secretariats are no one's favourite company.
Love and blessings,
J.M.
Ingleside,
Glen St Mary,
April, 1924
Jo,
I just got off the telephone from Charlottetown. Anne's still on the line. She and the new parents are determined to ravage my bank balance and I don't mind a bit.
That was Alastair, ringing to say the baby arrived safely. He's called Robert Hector McNeilly on paper, but Hector for everyday. Robert is a tribute to a departed brother of Alastair's, more than it is a name in its own right.
Funny how that works, isn't it? Faith and Rilla won't touch the names of their dead. When Helen was born, Faith rejected Jem's suggestion of 'Lillian' outright. She was a fellow VAD and she died, and Faith couldn't bear to use it. Someone offered 'Lily' but that was worse. That was what Faith called her friend.
Nan, and Rilla sidestepped the issue of a small 'Walter' to much local comment – chiefly Cousin Sophia – but in the interests of preserving their sanity. They won't go near 'Cecilia' either, and I can never decide if John's relieved or disappointed. But Alastair wanted the memory of his brother, and Di didn't mind acquiescing. Susan declared it a name that would wear well in the washing, and is impatient to meet the man of the hour so she can judge whether or not his ears are to standard. All ears look remarkably ear-like to me; As long as they're whole and intact, I have no objections. But Susan's particular about ears. Alastair assures me he counted ten toes, ten fingers, a regular heartbeat, healthy, even ruddy colour, and two very reliable lungs. I have made note of all these things in my records, and have made a further entry into our family bible. It's getting nicely full these days.
Faith may have told you it was a hospital birth. I think that was a reaction to Rilla's difficulties more than necessity. I was very nosy, and everyone sounds robustly healthy.
Love ever,
Gil
