Episode 11: The Pebble
Esther and Neil playfully sat on the ground on a summer’s day. “Oh, my mother’s the same, Neil,” muttered Esther with a deep sigh. “Even the mention of the Catholic Church can throw her into a rage. I think it was a Lowland Scotland thing. Around Glasgow it became much worse because of Irish immigration. My mother’s family came from Kilbirnie, but my father’s people were from Skye, and they never seemed to carry the same bitterness.”
“You do know that my mother and your uncle are cousins, of sorts?” she continued.
“Eh… no. I didn’t know that, Esther. How are we actually related?” he replied.
Neil was cautious. This conversation had the capacity to change things. He felt defensive, but also intrigued.
“Oh, I can never remember exactly. It’s through both of our maternal great-grandparents, and it’s very distant, but we’re all connected, even here in Canada. Our grandfathers were cousins on our great-grandmother’s side, and we’re also descended from the same couple on your great-grandfather’s side. I tried to write it all down once, but it became terribly confusing.”
Neil became aware that she carried a quiet confidence about this knowledge. She wasn’t boasting, but she clearly knew more about the family’s history than he did. At first he mistook it for arrogance, but he quickly realised it was simply pride in where she had come from. Strangely, it made him feel closer to her. It took him a moment to process it all.
“So, on my mother’s and Uncle Robert’s side… you mean through their parents?”
“Exactly… Maggie used to…” Esther stopped suddenly, giving Neil the opportunity to ask.
“Maggie used to what?”
“She used to be very interested in family history. We talked about it a lot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s all right. You can talk to me. I want to know more about her anyway. I had a sister called Maggie too,” said Neil.
“Well, you know she lived with us. When your aunt became too ill to look after her, Maggie stayed in my room. She was with us right up until the end… until she…”
The word death hung between them, but neither of them could say it.
Esther froze and slowly stood up. Feeling equally uncomfortable, Neil rose too. He picked up the blanket from the ground, gently placed it around her shoulders, and together they began the walk home.
After a few hundred yards Esther nodded towards a stand of trees.
“That’s the cemetery, Neil. Just beyond that tree. I do miss Maggie.”
“Is it new?” he asked, noticing that there were no gravestones, only open fields stretching towards the horizon.
Her words, I do miss Maggie, struck him. It was the first honest, freely given expression of grief he had heard since arriving in Canada.
“No. Actually, it’s full. But our church doesn’t believe in memorials. They say they’re idolatrous,” Esther replied.
Her tone was matter-of-fact rather than sharp. She seemed surprised that Neil didn’t already know. Canada felt more open than Scotland in many ways, yet even here there were boundaries that people rarely questioned.
For a few moments they stood looking across the empty field where memories seemed to drift like angels over the long grass. Death felt strangely honest there. If there was anywhere it was acceptable to speak about Maggie, surely it was where she had been laid to rest.
They followed one of the muddy paths across what looked like an ordinary meadow. Neil noticed that the ground wasn’t completely level. Gentle rises and hollows marked the places where others lay beneath the earth.
Suddenly Esther stopped.
“She was buried here.” She pointed to a small pebble resting on the ground. “I left that so I’d remember. Please don’t ever tell my parents.” Neil touched the pebble in his own pocket, the round stone he was given when he left Kilbirnie – he wanted to tell Esther but he stayed silent.
“She was so full of life, Neil,” Esther continued quietly. “I think that’s what makes it so hard. She was one of the humblest people I’ve ever known. I’m not saying that just because she was my friend. She had qualities I’ve never seen in anyone else.”
“The place looks so barren, Esther. Don’t you ever bring flowers here?” asked Neil.
“My mother always says flowers are for the living,” Esther replied with a faint smile. “So no, we never come here together. Sometimes I imagine she’s still alive. I talk to her… but only in my imagination. Dad says she can’t hear me.”
The quiet confidence Neil had noticed earlier had disappeared. In its place was a young woman carrying the weight of someone she had loved deeply.
“Thomas suffered the most,” she continued. “Those two were inseparable. Then, when Maggie came to live with us, he couldn’t bear to see her, even though she was dying. She asked for him every day.”
Neil realised then that bringing Thomas to this place would be impossible. Even persuading him to speak openly about Maggie seemed beyond hope.
Silence took centre stage.
Neil and Esther stood together, each touched by the memory of the same girl in very different ways. As the wind brushed across the open field, Neil’s thoughts drifted back to the old cemetery in Kilbirnie and to his own sisters lying there. He felt he had learned something deeper about family, grief and the quiet dignity of remembering those who were gone.