“Thanks for visiting.” Julia said. “As you may imagine, I don't get many visitors, because I live so far off. But also because. . .Well, at Emery's school, no one likes her. She's not sociable, and she's very rude.”
Me, mom and Lindsay were seated in the living room of Julia's cottage, which, we found out, was named Moonbay. Our cottage was called Serenity. Roselle and Carrie were playing Jungle outside.
Julia had served up some tea and freshly-baked scones, which were delicious. The tea was not very appropriate, I thought, for the weather, but as Julia explained, in England tea was drunk whenever possible.
Em, or Emery, was not actually Julia's daughter, as Julia explained. “Her poor mum, Lydia, when she was young, lived in Liverpool, in England. And when she was sixteen years old, fell in love with a a young man.” Julia started. It was a good thing Emery wasn't around. “But the man she fell in love with. . .he was a miller's apprentice. And Lydia was a very wealthy, well-bred young thing. They knew their parents would never approve of the marriage, so. . .they ran off. To Ireland. Dublin.”
“In Dublin, the couple married, and soon afterwords had a baby girl.”
“Emery.” My mother put in. Julia nodded, a bit sadly.
“Well, right after Emery was born, her father—Who had gotten a job on the docks, in Dublin—Befell a terrible accident. He had slipped on the slimy docks, and hit his head on a lobster pot. He fell into the water.”
“There was a terrible gash in his head. And, he couldn't swim.”
“But-” I interrupted. “How could he work on the docks and not swim?” I hadn't meant to say it like that. My mother shot one of her “looks” at me.
Julia shook her head sadly. “Most of the dockworkers couldn't swim.”
“So,” she continued, “he drowned. None of the other dockworkers were around; they had all gone home.”
“They found him the next morning. The day after, he was buried.”
“Lydia was destitute. She could not support herself and a child by sitting at home. So she began working at a factory.”
“When Emery was four, her mother caught a terrible sickness. She was frail and weak from working in the factory, and had grown thin and pale. So she could not fight the illness.”
“She died swiftly. Emery was passed along to a distant great-aunt, because her grandparents would not accept her. They were shamed and insulted by their children's elopement.”
“She lived with the great-aunt until last year, when the great-aunt died. She had loved Emery, though, and Emery had loved her. So Emery was very sad. They passed her along to me, her mother's sister.”
“I had lived in America for some time at this point. And when Em came to live with me. . .she was bitter and angry over her great-aunt's death.”
“And she resents me.” Julia finished. A tear slipped down her cheek.
Me, mom and Lindsay were seated in the living room of Julia's cottage, which, we found out, was named Moonbay. Our cottage was called Serenity. Roselle and Carrie were playing Jungle outside.
Julia had served up some tea and freshly-baked scones, which were delicious. The tea was not very appropriate, I thought, for the weather, but as Julia explained, in England tea was drunk whenever possible.
Em, or Emery, was not actually Julia's daughter, as Julia explained. “Her poor mum, Lydia, when she was young, lived in Liverpool, in England. And when she was sixteen years old, fell in love with a a young man.” Julia started. It was a good thing Emery wasn't around. “But the man she fell in love with. . .he was a miller's apprentice. And Lydia was a very wealthy, well-bred young thing. They knew their parents would never approve of the marriage, so. . .they ran off. To Ireland. Dublin.”
“In Dublin, the couple married, and soon afterwords had a baby girl.”
“Emery.” My mother put in. Julia nodded, a bit sadly.
“Well, right after Emery was born, her father—Who had gotten a job on the docks, in Dublin—Befell a terrible accident. He had slipped on the slimy docks, and hit his head on a lobster pot. He fell into the water.”
“There was a terrible gash in his head. And, he couldn't swim.”
“But-” I interrupted. “How could he work on the docks and not swim?” I hadn't meant to say it like that. My mother shot one of her “looks” at me.
Julia shook her head sadly. “Most of the dockworkers couldn't swim.”
“So,” she continued, “he drowned. None of the other dockworkers were around; they had all gone home.”
“They found him the next morning. The day after, he was buried.”
“Lydia was destitute. She could not support herself and a child by sitting at home. So she began working at a factory.”
“When Emery was four, her mother caught a terrible sickness. She was frail and weak from working in the factory, and had grown thin and pale. So she could not fight the illness.”
“She died swiftly. Emery was passed along to a distant great-aunt, because her grandparents would not accept her. They were shamed and insulted by their children's elopement.”
“She lived with the great-aunt until last year, when the great-aunt died. She had loved Emery, though, and Emery had loved her. So Emery was very sad. They passed her along to me, her mother's sister.”
“I had lived in America for some time at this point. And when Em came to live with me. . .she was bitter and angry over her great-aunt's death.”
“And she resents me.” Julia finished. A tear slipped down her cheek.
