Numbered 107. Postmarked Kilconquhar Fife 6pm illegible 39
addressed to R. Helme, Esq., 34 Albert Road, Colne, Lancs
The Manse, Kilconquhar, Fife.
21st Aug
My darling Ronald,
How your letters cheer me. I waken and say to myself, “Now I’ll soon be reading my letter from Ronnie”, and that cheers me up, and soon I have read it, and that cheers me up more.
The news of your conversation with Mrs Hartley amused me no end. She sure says what’s in her head without pausing to consider. If she said anything like that to me, I should be completely stumped! I told Mum and she was highly tickled. Anyway, she’s not atall malicious, so I don’t care a hang. Besides, I do love you , and we will be engaged someday not too far away, so she’s only a little previous.
Daddy knew about the Lothersdale house. Someone in Cowling told him.
We have seen Pam and Mr Foulds off this morning, so things will feel rather flat, as Bill has gone too now. Daddy will feel very unsupported, and usually a bit difficult to amuse after Mr Foulds has left.
Daphne arrives this evening, so goodness only knows what we will do with her until John comes on the twenty-eighth. Well, she’ll just have to put up with doing the things we do.
Darling, I could do with you here so badly. Especially with all this talk of war again Oh honey, if anything happens I want to come right home to you. It will be terrible, terrible. I love you so much, and I don’t want to let you go – ever. Why can’t we just run away and hide somewhere in the hills, where there’s peace for ever. Let’s sail away where no one else goes, and start a population of dear people who never fight, never quarrel.
And yet I know that if war did come, you’d go – I’d have to let you go : and it would be terrible. More terrible even than I can imagine now. And if you died I’d have to die too, because there’d be nothing for me to stay on for.
But surely it isn’t going to happen, because somehow I know there is going to be a Donald and a Michael, and a little girl whose name I don’t know.
I hope you will not think I am growing too sentimental, and looking too far ahead, because I am saying what is in my heart at this minute. You see, I am so sure of our love now. And inspite of the piano crashing and Adéle singing behind me, I have to say what I feel.
Whenever Daddy speaks of Danzig, a lump rises in my throat, and I want to run to you and burrow my head against you – and I can’t. I love you.
… To return to every day facts, yesterday was a miserable day. In the afternoon, the Walkers came as expected, and they went away about half-past six. Bill went shortly after them. In the evening ‘the girls’ and Dad and Uncle Stan went to the local picture house cum town hall, to see “Three Comrades” which I liked very, very much, but oh dear, it was so sad. Dad and Uncle Stan found it too sentimental, but the others all liked it. Have you seen it? Not with me, anyway. Robert Taylor, I thought, was excellent, and whatever anyone says, he can act, and his love making is beautiful. So convincing. Even when he isn’t with Barbara Stanwyck. In fact, he is much better with Margaret Sullivan. Unfortunately, the audience, in holiday spirits, would make kissing noises during the close ups, which spoilt it.
It’s quite a nice wee picture house (It’s time I started a new paragraph) with no upstairs. We only just managed to get in, and couldn’t sit together. Uncle Stan and I were right on the back row, but had a good view. The speaking was rather too quiet.
Moué has just got her photos, but she wants to send them to Joy first. They are not bad considering the sausage had the camera set at time exposure, or something equally clever. They haven’t been well printed either. But the one of us is quite good, and the one of you with Y’Al, Mr Foulds and Prince is very good. You look very sweet on it. Perhaps it would be better to wait till I get home before I let you see them – yes? Only a week on Thursday.
Oh sweetheart, can you wait? I can just. Harrogate Show begins early, honey, so you’ll have to have the morning off. Judging starts at eleven, so we’ll have to set off in good time. Moué wants to come too, so that’ll be you, Moué and me. I hope Shales(*) will be able to take us, and Dad will have to drive himself to Joyce Knights’ wedding!
I love you, I love you, I love you. This morning I am filled with a motherly desire to clasp your head against me, and to kiss your hair.
I don’t know what’s happened to me. I must be in love!
Yours for keeps, Kay P.S. I love you.
P.P.S. Do you love me?
P.P.P.S. Of course you do.