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𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝟏 TWO. two hundred years of change
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inverness, scotland may 1948
It had been weeks.
Claire knew that everyone was looking at her oddly. They all had questions, and she had no answers for them. Reverend Wakefield was trying hard at being supportive of both Frank and Claire herself. Even the little boy the Reverend had taken in, Roger, was watching and waiting to see what she would do. Frank was kept on the outside. Claire couldn't even speak to him outside of pleasantries when they saw each other, but she could tell he was torn between waiting for her to initiate and demanding that they move on from this to live their own lives.
Because whatever the hell this was, it wasn't really living.
Alternatively, Claire had taken Missus Graham into her confidence early on. She was kind, she did not press. She listened and she cared. Ever since she had seen the middle—aged housekeeper dancing round the stone circles at dawn all those years ago, Claire knew she would understand far better than anyone else could.
So, she is who Claire turned to for guidance on how to conduct her search.
Today, she was sat outdoors in the Reverend's garden, wrapped in cardigans and blankets, somehow feeling cold everywhere she went now. Missus Graham delivered drinks on a tray, properly napkined, doilied, and adorned with accompanying biscuits. Claire appreciated the kindness of the action, but she much preferred conducting her research straightforwardly.
"There has to be a fuller account of the Highlander losses somewhere," Claire insisted.
"Well, I must say, the Reverend has the finest collection in Scotland." Missus Graham poured them each a cup of tea, "Even the curator of Old Leanach Cottage himself has been known to borrow books from our collection."
