Free Letters from Skye by Jessica Brockmole

haven’t seen him since just after war was declared, more than half a year ago. I know he’s had leave in that time, as Finlay has been home to visit. But when I asked him about it, he said he certainly didn’t have enough money to make the trip all the way from Bedford. He’s infuriating! I have a modest amount put away from the sales of my books, but Iain stubbornly refuses to touch a penny. All he had to do was leave his obstinacy in his kit bag and let me buy him a ticket to come say goodbye. Now he’s at the front, and who knows if I will see him again?
    I’m doing well, aside from all of that. We’re not as hard hit on Skye as in the big cities. My brother’s widow, Chrissie, is in Edinburgh, and she writes of how scarce some foodstuffs are becoming. At least we have our own produce and as much milk as our cows will give. This time of year is always a bit tougher, when we’re hoping for some fresh greens and soft fruit. But I still have a good stock of neeps, swedes, tatties, and smoked fish, so I can’t complain. I am running low on tea, though, and have been reusing my leaves when I can. Sugar has gone up in price, but it’s not as though I’m making marzipan cakes or sugar biscuits these days.
    So Iain is in France and, beyond that, I don’t know what is happening. I just pray that he and Finlay will keep an eye on each other, the way they always have. I pray they will stay safe.
       Elspeth
    Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A.
    March 29, 1915
    I hardly know what to say. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes, in your frame of mind, so that I can empathize as well as sympathize. I simply can’t do it. I’m sorry.
    I really should be brushing off my morning coat and practicing my speech, as the wedding isn’t far off. And what am I doing instead? Sitting at my desk, writing to you, Sue. I know I should be more excited about the upcoming nuptials, but I suppose it is natural to feel a bit of apprehension. Not that I doubt my decision … but I’m feeling a little anxious about the whole event. Lara is excited enough for the both of us. She seems to be all wrapped up in dress fittings and whispered conferences with her friends.
    I don’t know all of the plans being concocted, only that everyone we’ve ever met or could ever hope to meet will be there. We’ll probably serve platters of hors d’oeuvres that will go back to the kitchen mostly untouched and then twice as much roast meat as our guests could hope to eat. The women will all be dressed too elegantly and laced too tightly to do more than nibble on the food. This will be washed down with enough champagne to fill several bathtubs—the only part of the feast the guests will consume enthusiastically—and followed by a course of cakes and pastries so sweet they would make a dentist weep. After all this, I still have the honeymoon.
    And I can’t help but think of you, Sue, sitting alone by the fire in your cottage, “making do” with salted fish and potatoes, weak tea and unsweetened cake. I do admit to feeling a twingeof guilt; all of my extravagant feasting and leisure when you and the boys at the front are doing so much but getting so little in return. If someone were to ask where I would rather be on my wedding day—in a room full of strangers, trying to consume my portion of the feast, or alone in a cottage with you, Sue, drinking weak tea—I know which I’d choose.
       David
    Isle of Skye
    17 April 1915
    David,
    Well, I’ve moved into my parents’ cottage. It’s getting to be too much living by myself, in more ways than one. I was spending nearly every day at the post office, waiting for word, but I realised how pathetic that was. Bad news will find you, no matter how far you run.
    Also, it was too hard for me to maintain the cottage. I’ve made a bold decision, though, to have a new cottage built, a modern stone building with a slate roof and a chimney. I have Iain’s separation allowance and he isn’t here to tell me I