Isobel – 2015
I was always the good sister.
I lean back in my favourite armchair and sigh looking at the words I’ve written. It may not matter anymore, but I want to get everything down, just as it happened. Maybe knowing what I do now, I’d have behaved differently – maybe not.
If Doctor Ramage is right, I don’t have much time left, but maybe long enough to make things right. Not for me, but for my namesake Isobel – Bel as she calls herself these days – my sister Nan’s daughter; the daughter I might have had if…
My name was never shortened. Father wouldn’t permit it. He regarded it as common. But this Isobel is of a different generation and she likes the shortened version.
I twist the garnet ring on my finger, the tears trickling down my cheeks. It’s all I have left, all except the memories.
It began seventy-five years ago when I was only twenty. It would take another forty for me to discover the truth.
‘Are you Isobel MacDonald?’
In the hours when sleep won’t come, I can still hear that shrill voice echoing through my head. It was so long ago I should have forgotten it, relegated it to the past where it belongs. But now that I know my days on this earth are numbered, I need to tell someone my story. My only remaining relative is young Isobel who had the sense to leave this godforsaken land for fresher pastures. Maybe she’ll understand why I behaved as I did and allow me to die in peace, to believe what I did was right – that I was the good sister.
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