'Ever since he got back, you've been asking him all sorts and all he's done is drink himself to oblivion. I know it's hard, but sometimes we have to accept things.' 

'Even when they are untrue?' Her smile was straight. 

'You see what happens when you don't let things go,' she said, pointing to Sir Richard's crumpled state. 'All I can say is, you have no choice but to pull up your boots and get on with it.' 

'Boots?' 

'It's just a saying. - What I mean to say is, you have two choices: to stay and torture yourself, or to stay and make something good come out of this horrible situation. See you tomorrow, love.' 

Her words were sharp, short, yet hit me to the core. I respected Mrs Cuthbert a lot more than Sir Richard, yet as before, her words felt like daggers. I was not ready to stop asking about my mama, my family, my village. I needed to know the truth, didn't I? That night I sat on my bed, surrounded by all the trappings my trip to England had afforded me, yet overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. I lived in this house full of wealth yet did not have the personal means to change my own destiny. I was at the mercy of a situation I both enjoyed and despised, all at the same time. I was a lifetime away from my country, with the only person linking me to it a drunkard who insisted over and over again that everything I had ever held dear was gone. Even in his drunken state the words stubbornly refused to change, which meant they had the capacity to be true.