My Dearest, Lachlan
The Cursed Book, Entry II
My dearest Lachlan,
I must first apologise that it has taken me this long to respond to your letter. An unfortunate leak in the cottage has destroyed the last of my paper, and young Billy Black has said it’ll be a couple of days before he can next place an order for more with the next boat. Perhaps you could send me some with your letters? Your fancy city paper always seems so clean and pretty compared to the ones I get here.
In the mean time I have found this strange book. It actually seemed to arrive at the doorstep at the same time as your letter! I am not sure who would send it to little old me. Perhaps it’s a lost old journal of someone long since gone. Do you know someone of the name Declan Sweeney? I certainly don’t. What strange writing it was, talking of our little island as if we didn’t live there. Fanciful nonsense. Oh Teriesh save me, I’m blathering on now. Anyway, it’s a shame to put old paper to waste so I’m using it to return your letter.
I must say, I found your letter quite peculiar too. Are you quite well, my dear son? Your writing seemed more frantic than your usual letters, and you have not answered any of my enquiries on how your life is out there. In saying that, I am joyed to hear that you should like to return home soon! Though I do not understand, why not come home straight to the cottage? My old knees aren’t what they used to be, and climbing out to meet you at the North Burner seems awfully perilous at this time of year. And you want me to do that on the Winter Solstice? I know you are a lover of adventure Lachlan, but this is awfully peculiar a request. You always have taken care of me so well, I do wonder why you would ask such a thing of me. My knees aside, that place has always given me a shiver down my spine. Pray Lachlan, just come home to the nice warm cottage instead, and I will have some of your favourite chowder on the stove for you. Your old mother misses you so.
Kindest regards and all my love,
Your mother,
Sigurd
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