Dad writes to me as often as he can. It seems his business in Spain is going well.
Yesterday, I got a letter that has me quite worried. He mentioned he had met a widow who has two daughters more or less my age. I don’t like the way he talked about them. He kept on saying how wonderful they were.
What if the servants were right and he gets married again? He wouldn’t forget Mum so quickly, would he?
Well, I guess I will have to wait and see. I still don’t know when he will be coming back, but he’s usually gone for six months at a time or even longer.
In the meantime, my tutor keeps on torturing me. He doesn’t seem to care about my mum’s recent death.
‘Cindy, I need you to memorize this piece for tomorrow.’
‘But I hate music. I cannot play. And what’s the use, anyway?’
‘Well educated young ladies must play the piano and speak French. And may I remind you that your French is atrocious?’
‘I don’t care. Why don’t you just let me read in peace?’
I do love reading. It calms me down when I’m sad and transports me to different worlds. I need a lot of that now, I need to forget about my life at the moment.
I’m really looking forward to Dad’s next letter now. Maybe he’ll say something new about the widow.