Postmarked COLNE LANCS 7.15PM 14 JAN 1940
Lieut. R. Helme. D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks.
ALBERT HOUSE. COLNE. LANCS. TEL.NO.282.
Saturday.
My dearest Ronnie,
You will now be on your way back north again I expect, and I feel very glad, because although I can’t see you I do feel nearer you.
My prescious boy, it felt very queer to be at a dance without you. How I missed you my treasure. I kept wanting to see you walking across the floor with one toe turned in, in the old familiar way. I can just see you so clearly walking across the floor in your tails. I’m repeating myself but I adore you so much.
Anyway, you wanted a detailed account of the dance. Now let me see. The party consisted of the three beautiful Miss Eadies, Dr and Mrs Robertson, Mr and Mrs Thomas, (friends of Dicky’s – school teacher and wife), Mac and Alice, Mr Leslie, Royd Smith and Irene Swire, and Willie and Bill Cattow – oh and James of course. Neil Hartley was more or less in our party too. He danced with us all – especially Moué, and he has asked her to the Rotary dance. Zoë is completely furious with Moué.
You asked me to tell you who danced most with me. Well I think it would be Royd really. He was saying that he had been to some of the same parties as you in days gone by. How sweet!
The only three people I danced with out of the party were Michael, Norman Bateman and Mr Rankin who was in terrific form.
Oh dear, I’ve forgotten a member of the party: Nellie Fisher. John and Daphne were there too, but I don’t count them in the party, because of course, they stuck to the Haighton crowd all night!
It was a very good dance I thought. Mary Sagar was there with dear Hayseed looking very red, shiney and vile. I didn’t speak to them though I should have done. I think they must have left early. Poor Mary. You will probably write back and say she is very lucky – just to be perverse!
I do wish you had been there prescious. There were no uniforms there at all. You would have looked cute with me. I was really looking quite nice. But I am going to look even nicer for the Rotary if you are going to be at home. If not of course, I am not going.
Oh dear, I am longing to see you again. I do miss you. Treasure, treasure, treasure, you are the sweetest, nicest, dearest man, and I will never stop loving you.
I have just changed pens, as mine has run out of ink, and there doesn’t seem to be any around here.
I should really go out for a walk soon. I want to go really, but I’m not so keen to go with John and Daphne who are talking of going out. I hate going out in threes. I prefer ones and twos. A walk with you of course, is the ideal. Once more I must say I love you.
John and Daphne have departed – so Moué and I will have to take the dog out. I think I should post this today – so as you’ll get it on Monday. I will really have to go and put my coat on now as it will not be long till the blackout begins. Goodby for now.
Sunday.
Well Angel I didn’t post it yesterday after all as I thought I might have quite a lot more to say today.
It is twenty five to one, and Mum Moué Daphne and I have been to Church. John has gone out with Daddy to give Marj a free morning.
I am feeling very cold of nose hands and toes. What a climate. And the Gods have punished me for saying that I had much nicer hands than Winnie B. because now I have got chillblanes – I mean chilblains – well anyway, you know what I mean. But I am fighting them bravely, and hope to have got rid of them in time for your next leave. It is the first time I have been attacked like this – so it must be a punishment for crowing.
I wakened at eight this morning, thought lovingly of you, and went to sleep again and had a lovely dream. I was teaching my two wee boys to swim, and you were standing on the beach, a large and loving father with your hands in the pockets of your big blue coat. The boys seemed to be fully dressed, but this didn’t seem to trouble me at all. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a dream like that. It’s a shame you never dream about me. I am always dreaming about you; but then I am the dreaming type, and you aren’t. I must say it is much nicer to dream when awake, because you can make anything you want happen. I was thinking of you at Kilconquhar this morning and the morning I found you really asleep. I shall never forget it, because my heart really leapt and I felt dithery for a long time afterwards.
I wonder how long it will be before it happens again. It think I shall have to become your batman. Can you fix it for me? Dearest, I do want to be with you.
I wonder how Malton is looking this morning. I’m glad I know what the place is like, I can see you so much more clearly there, whereas at Bisby, I couldn’t. I don’t even know the type of countryside.
Much to my annoyance we will have to have the young Haightons down here while John and Daphne are at home. Somehow, I can’t get to know Elizabeth. She strikes me as the most reserved of creatures, and natters me no end. Then she was at the dance looking as smug and uppish as anything.
By the way, your friend Margery Duckworth was at the dance – with little Hanson. She smiled at me, and I meant to speak to her but didn’t get an opportunity. She danced with all the various Duckworths most of the time. She looked very nice, but I’m afraid she is going to become a big woman.
Well, I think that is all I have to say – except that last night I had a terrible fit of love sickness for you. I wanted to weep all evening, and at night I hugged your pullover so tight in the hopes of gaining comfort from it. It did help a little, but the nice smell of you has nearly worn off it now. I don’t mean B.O. because it never had that, but just a nice clean Ronnie – smell.
Then somehow, just as I was dozing off, you seemed to be ever so ever so near me – so you must have been with me in spirit. It would be about half past eleven. If you were asleep, it must have been your soul flying over from Malton to Colne.
Oh how I love you, and long to see you. I do want a long loving letter tomorrow.
All my love darling boy, Kathleen.
P.S. A very badly written letter, but it’s all true – even if it’s badly put. X.