The laughter, jumping and pandemonium continue all morning. Seeing all my family in one room, rolling around, teasing, playing and capering, soothes my soul.
“Who would like breakfast?”, I ask.
Three excited children, all throw up their right arm and shout, “Me, please.”
“Let’s see what Agnes has for us.” We all trot through to the kitchen and find Agnes, our housekeeper, humming a beautiful Scottish melody.
Breakfast is a sumptuous feast of porridge with honey, followed by eggs and toast, and washed down with hot mugs of tea. Our meal sets us up brilliantly for our afternoon walk.
The great clock strikes two bells, and we assemble in the hall. Duke is already at the door, with his lead in his mouth. “Our church skipping will not go unnoticed. We need to be as quiet as mice.”, as I hold my finger to my lips.
They all chorus back, “Shoosh.”
We walk out onto Moray Place at a brisk pace. We take a sharp right onto Nithsdale Road, pass the school, and turn left onto Pollokshaws Road, where everyone stops sharply.
We hear gunfire in the distance from Coplawhill.
The children hide behind Emelia’s and I’s legs. Duke, aware of the danger, runs around us in a circle.
“Do not worry. The regiment is on parade.”, I said, smiling.