I helped her fold the clothes again, to tuck them in as Ma had done, and I wondered where it was, the lacy white thing that Kitta was wearing at Hogmanay. No sign of it among the thick, warm woollens she was taking with her. I wanted to ask but was afraid she wouldn’t say, that it was something bound up in the puzzle of why she had been sent home, and was now to be allowed to go to the fish. Things she had decided I wasn’t to know. It was too painful, the thought of being refused again when once there was nothing Kitta would keep from me.

When everything had been packed away, she gave me a hug, then took my face in both hands. Bless ye for the charm, Meggie mine, an’ ye’ll bring me luck for sure, no mind what folk say about ginger heads!

~

Did we know and had just forgotten? Or was it a story that somehow we’d never heard? When I look back on it now, it seems that our lives were so steeped in the lore of the sea that we must have heard the tale of the soulbirds. But if I had known then that when sailors drown, their restless souls fly away on the wind and find home in the bodies of albatross, I don’t think I would have given such a charm to Kitta, nor she taken it from me.

~

Ma wouldn’t hear of me going to the fish. Ye’ve another year yet of school, at least, an’ ye’re too young, Meggie, too young by far.

No surprise. And in truth I was torn between wanting to go with Kitta and wanting to stay in school. But I held my breath to ask for something else I dearly wanted.

Can I go tomorrow? Can I go to Gadlehead to wave our Kitta goodbye?

Ye’ll not be going anywheres. A growl from Granda’s chair by the fire.

No, quinie, no, I’ve to see the agent an’ settle with him an’ get Kitta away, an’ ye’ve school—an’ work to do here.

Work? Aye, and it seemed to me that it was always for Granda that I must work: baiting his lines, cleaning his boots, cooking his supper. Pah, I said under my breath.

That night Kitta tossed about next to me in the closet bed and I could not sleep. There was much I wanted to say, and more I wanted to ask her, but she wouldn’t answer my whispers.

We rose before sunrise. Ma and Kitta were walking to Gadlehead. A cart had already come to take the kist with KITTA NEISH DUTHIE neatly carved into the curve across the top.

Will ye miss me, Ginger Meggie? Kitta asked, ruffling my already wild hair.