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IT WAS WINTER, and Mar was down at Shelby's house on the watery lane, assisting Aunt Pol with certain business operations early that morning. The Shelby Brothers Limited is quickly receiving increased attention, and the fruitfulness of her new job role has offered her more flexibility in managing her time. (Which is exactly what she chose to believe instead of acknowledging the fact that Tom was just being gentle to her.)
It wasn't just an ordinary morning, though; it was one of those special days that only she was aware of. Winter was the season she found out she was with a child, a few months after Thomas departed for the trenches, and despite her pain, she to this day deems the season just as special—sweet with a glimpse of spice.
"It's that period of the year, innit?" Polly asked, entering the room with a stack of papers.
And her heart sank. Mar had been offered no caution, and she had no idea what the comment meant.
"A-aye? Isn't it lovely?"
"Mari, you're such a silky and fiddly thing; no one understands how to take care of you." Polly appears to say, with an awful suppleness in her tone.
"I don't need taking care of Aunt Pol; I'm young and I can take care of myself." she says flatly.
"Oh dear, you've lost far too much at such a tender age; believe me, you need someone even though you detest accepting it." Pol affirms affectionately, taking a small step toward her.
