New Manse,
Glen St Mary,
Sept. 1931
Jo,
Imagine my alarm when I picked up the paper this morning and read Japanese Overtake Manchuria. I can't help wondering how long before they're in Singapore. It's not impossible. Carl and Una must know it isn't impossible. My instinct after reading it – Japanese Overtake Manchuria – was to beg them to come home. Pack up the animals and go. I stopped not because I changed my mind, but because I remember Una after Courcelette. When I compare the gutted fish of a woman from then to the bright, engaging young woman that writes to me from Singapore, I can't do it. She's made her home there. So has Carl.
Then I look back at Japanese Overtake Manchuria, and think I must do it – that I'll never forgive myself if now, of all times, I break that age-old promise to Cecilia and let Una fall into chaos and confusion.
Needless to say, the relief when her letter landed on the doormat this afternoon, complete with crane watermark and exotic stamp was palpable.
I should be drafting a sermon for Sunday, but all I can think is how terribly apt the readings are. I look at the vesicle from Esther and think I too, would die for my children if it kept them safe. I l read at Psalm 124 and trust and pray that God is, as ever, on our side. But I cannot preach that from the pulpit. It would never do.
I thought I had had my trial by fire, oh, any number of times. When Cecilia died. When that shell hit Jerry. When Carl went to war, and then lost his eye. He had such a look of his mother in his eyes. When Faith rushed head-first into the fray and I was naïve enough to think my daughters would be safe from war.
I took the seasoning and salt all that was, and never blanched when Una talked of going overseas, of living there. I saw the purpose it gave her. And selfishly, stupidly, I trusted that this other war would never touch my children. How could it, this thing in the Pacific, have aught to do with my good-hearted, Canadian children?
I suppose the thing about parenthood is that it never stops. There's always another war, and sometimes it's actual – Japanese Overtake Manchuria – and sometimes its metaphorical. I cannot write and order them home, but neither can I sit idly by here. Write and advise me, Jo. If only on the construction of next Sunday's sermon.
Love and blessings,
J.M.
Martyrs' Manse,
Kingsport,
Sept. 1931
John,
I wrangled detailed particulars on this latest war from Kitty, who is preternaturally well-informed on foreign affairs. Faith always says Kitty is wasted on the police beat. I agree. The thing that has the desks talking is how the Japanese seized the South Manchurian Railway. It's quite the expanse, and the Japanese want to hold onto it, so for the time being, I think you can stop worrying. Not that we ever do. But you can stop worrying about this.
Anyway, Naomi wrote for you. She doesn't have to worry about interfering, like parents do. She can simply be a concerned friend – and is. She believes, like everyone else, that England will protect Singapore, but she's not the type to leave things to chance, either. She doesn't think Una will listen, but she can say she has done it.
You asked after Culross. I cycled into town the other day, and found my former church half-pulled down. They're putting up some dry-wood thing that I doubt will weather as well as the original, but it's undeniably less expensive material, and goes up fast.
Happily, the Yarmouth elders agreed to let me keep the food ministry going. That lessens the sting a little. Funny, isn't it, to think Culross only became mine seven years ago.
When Sam said that over Sunday dinner, I tell you candidly, I doubted his numbers. My mathematical son. In my defence, Ellie didn't believe it either. She's excellent for taking my side when she thinks the others are making a team against me. Phil certainly was, and little Emma, whose too young to remember my incumbency at Culross but has Phil's mathematical bent.
Eventually I'll get used to having only one church again. It's an incredible feeling, not having to ration my availability. Perhaps this is the year I finally start the kind of study group you run so well.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch,
Jo
New Manse,
Glen St Mary,
Nov. 1931,
Jo,
Worse and worse. They have gone from repairing the Nen River Bridge to sending forces against the acting governor of Heilongjiang province. There's a joke buried somewhere in here about how I've never been so up-to-date on current affairs, but you'll forgive me if I fail to see it. Somehow, despite of the loss of the bridge, China has made a hero of its general.
Your daughter and Fred try to reassure me. They know the geography in play better than I do. But they've got friends abroad too, and their own reasons to be anxious.
There are many things that frighten me in all of this; What a Japanese Singapore would look like, should they ever get there, and the ramifications thereof for my children not least of these. Lately, what keeps me awake is the potential fallout for Li. I forget how long Japan and China have been circling each other, but the ramifications for Chinatown must be worst of all. Then I wonder what that would mean for Carl, who would never leave his wife – what I should do if anything happened to any of them.
Write glad things, Jo. You must have an Advent Appeal at Martyrs'. Are the children coming for Christmas? And what, dare I ask, are Kitty's opinions on the whole episode? No, don't tell me that.
Love and blessings,
J.M.
New Manse,
Glen St Mary,
Nov. 1931
They have surrendered Tsitshar and I am heartsick. These places I cannot pronounce are filled with dark and terrible meaning. I understand now how Susan felt during the children's war. Bruce used up his three minutes yesterday trying to explain foreign affairs to me over the phone. He doesn't think the Japanese will get across the mainland. Nobly, I didn't say that it wasn't so long ago we sent his brothers into a war that was supposed to be over by Christmas, 1914. Anything might happen.
For all that, Una's well. There were few of what she calls Sumatra Squalls this year, and the ones there were, she combatted with mock-turtle soup. Carl's busy preparing an exhibition for the Raffles Museum, and happily so. Una's less happy by an order of magnitude, having only normal tolerance the half-mummified and petrified things on Carl's desk. Nenni thinks Carl is finally learning to hunt, and has offered several contributions to the collection. Just like a cat!
I'm tolerably sure Una writes these things for my peace of mind. It works. She says the city is well-fortified. The British are looking after their own, as ever. There is a navy, and an air force awaiting deployment. She's confident they won't be necessary.
More locally, Cornelia is incensed because the Old Moore House is being sold for holiday houses. Possibly a guest house. I'm unclear on details, except that Alastair's architecture firm bought it. It matters not that Alastair's firm do beautiful, English-style cottages. Nor the Old Moore House is good only for housing pigeons and breeding mould, these days. It's a Notable Landmark and tearing it down means Change. Cry horror! Calamity! Indignation!
Luckily, Joanie picked this contentious moment to announce she would be a sister again, and now Cornelia is too busy arguing with Rosemary and Susan over a baby quilt to stage a demonstration. For a while it looked like we'd have the elderly women of Glen St Mary tied to the foundations of that awful house. Mary may yet do it anyway.
But for now, the most controversial thing is how Cornelia can quilt when she's too arthritic to do her own piecing and telling everyone else how to do theirs. Cornelia's always been proud of her piecework. Anne says the pattern is Sunbonnet Sue. She wants to make each Sue different, but Susan and Cornelia won't hear of it. More Change. Rosemary tries to keep the peace without offering an opinion. She does have one; Rosemary has a deep-abiding hatred of Sunbonnet Sue.
Disagreements over piecing notwithstanding, Cornelia is delighted that her former home is getting so full. She says it was always meant for more than the three people that rattled around in it. Even if it is no longer green. That still rankles, evidently.
Love and blessings,
J.M.