A curlew’s lament echoed her own sadness on leaving the Borderlands. Netta strolled to the fence, away from the car fumes, to clear her head in the stiff breeze, but the pounding drumbeat of guilt thundered in her ears.

How many times had she come south with her heart in her boots? But never as badly as that first time with demons driving her on into the unknown. How many times had she tortured herself with regret that she had not snatched her baby the day when they went for their portrait together? Why had she not taken her chance then? Netta shook her head knowing exactly why.

Because you were always your father’s daughter and duty is your middle name. But how could you just have walked away from your baby? Did you think you were leaving for him or for yourself because you hadn’t the courage to stand up to Peg’s bullying? Were you trying to repay Father for the expense of your treatment? Oh, you coward! You hadn’t the guts to stay there and take the flak, to claim your rights. Was it because you loved Ray so much that you wanted only the best for your baby? Peg and Angus had the best that was going then. And you walked away down that track like an automaton on a musical box, going through the motions, numb, too fearful to look back. And now you’ve done it again.

If only… but turning back the clock is never an option. Wretched and exhausted from your illness, you just caught the first train south from Dumfries, not bothering where it ended up in that bleak winter of 1946. Nobody cared if you lived or died. They let you walk out of Brigg Farm with a wad of banknotes, in your best coat and hat with a suitcase full of nothing but flimsy promises and a heart as black as coal.

Netta Nichol was doing her duty, leaving her little mistake behind and being the obedient daughter of the house. Little did they know how close she came to finding the perfect solution to the whole sorry mess.

4

Jet

‘Colour of grief and penitence
Treasure of darkness and shadows,
Absorbing all other hues
In its intensity.’

February 1946