As with many of Stevenson’s sequels, the follow-up to Sarah Morris Remembers, is less tightly focused than the first book but I still liked it. Despite the title, it isn’t really about the cottage in Scotland that Sarah and her husband move into after the war. Instead, it’s about their life in the years that follow -- there’s bits about social events and writing projects, and a couple of personal issues, but mostly it is about interactions with their families. Particularly Sarah’s grandparents, and her niece Freddie, whom Sarah doesn’t get to see as often as she would like.

And underneath it all is a bittersweet poignancy, because Sarah and Charles don’t have their own children. Stevenson doesn’t include much about that aspect of Sarah’s life, the way a contemporary author might, but I thought the portrayal of this was unexpectedly thoughtful -- she captures the undercurrent of grief and longing, but also Sarah’s choice to focus on the many happinesses and important relationships that she has. I kept wanting tidy and more convention resolutions and yet, and yet, I appreciate that Stevenson doesn’t provide those. Because while my life is rather different from Sarah’s in, oh, so many ways, I found something reassuringly relatable in that.

It was beautiful autumn weather so we were seeing it at its best: the trees were turning red and brown and golden, they were gorgeous in the sunshine; the heather had faded; the coarse grass on the moors was orange-coloured. Hundreds of little burns, their waters sparkling like silver, came tumbling down the hills. Here and there a stand of dark green conifers made its bold contrasting note in the landscape; here and there a small farm-house nestled in a fold of the hills. Above, the sky was a tender blue and big cumulus clouds sailed along majestically, trailing their shadows over the quiet land. [...] One morning when there was air-frost, and a thin crackle of ice in the ruts untouched by the sunshine, we stopped in a small quarry by the side of the road and walked up a hill path. A few pearly white sheep were nibbling the green grass beneath the coarser orange tufts, they lifted their heads and watched us as we passed but were unafraid.
“We ought to be more thankful than we are—for eyes,” said Charles suddenly.

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Begins as a country idyll, with a couple fresh off their honeymoon coming home to their new cottage in Scotland. The kind of book where delightful things seem the norm, like when they arrive unexpectedly early and figure that because there's been no time to stock the kitchen with food, they'll have to stay in a hotel for one night, but lo and behold, someone mysteriously found out they were coming and filled the pantry. As the book continues, a few sad or temporarily alarming things happen, but this is primarily the story of a couple who is happy to be together, living in a place they've chosen among people they love. A very nice life, though tinged with some bittersweetness. Their efforts to take care of their niece in place of her negligent parents form a big part of the story, as do Charles' efforts to write a book about his life, only he replaces all the bad bits with good bits. ( )

A wonderful sweet story. It follows Sarah and her husband and family and friends. There is some suspense, but be assured nothing terrible will happen. This is really special in these challenging times. Lovely sense of place and great caring characters. How I wish more people were like these. Terrific narrator for this book. ( )