The girl clutched a doll to her chest, as though she had no intention of ever letting it go. It had a head that was made from porcelain, blonde ringlets, and eyes which were bright blue. It's dress was a plush purple velvet.
Watching the girl play with her doll reminded Sorcha of Mary, the doll that she had loved for years when she had been a child. It wasn't until a long time after it had been passed down the family, that Sorcha discovered how one Christmas Eve when she was three years old, her mother had stayed up all night, sewing scraps of material together in order that Sorcha could open a Christmas present and have a doll to love.
Thinking of Mary brought a tear to her eye. Sorcha inadvertently touched the locket around her neck. “I love you Ma.” she whispered under her breath. “I miss you so much already.”
“Do you like my doll?” Sorcha’s thoughts were interrupted and she looked down to see the girl grinning, and pushing her doll toward Sorcha.
“She's very pretty, what's her name,” she replied.
“Gwendoline. And my name is Louisa. I had her for a birthday present. Would you like to hold her?”
Sorcha took the doll and cradled it very carefully in her arms as she had some of her siblings. “My name is Sorcha, and Gwendoline is a very good girl. Louisa you are very lucky. Now, why don't you sit on the seat here, and I will tell you both a story.”