Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 8 FEB 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme. D.W.R., King’s Arms Hotel, Barnard Castle. Durham.
Albert House, Colne.
Thursday.
Dearest Ronald,
You said at the beginning of the week that I had better not write after Wednesday, but as the post seems to have improved, I am risking another one.
I have been down to your Ma’s for tea and have enjoyed it. In fact, I really stayed too long to be polite. She let me see the letter you wrote to your Father, and it made me chuckle. The first paragraph is so superior. Never mind beloved, I adore you.
Your Mother has given me a beautiful leather pyjama case made of fawn leather, which I shall keep for my B.D. Though of course it will be nighties. It is really lovely. I have also got your record. Thank you heaps for it darling. It is a beautiful version of “Nineteenth Century Drawingroom.” Fofely! (*) Your other record is not bad. In fact, you will think it very good.
If you go to India I shall pass out. Five Years. It doesn’t stand talking about. I shall certainly come out and marry if that’s the case. Anyway I suppose it will be France. Oh hell!
I called at Hatfield’s today but Mr Hatfield was out. I spoke to a very nice chap – chief cowman presumably – a patient of Dad’s. They have 40 cows.
So sorry I forgot to say in yesterday’s letter (you never tell me anything) a young doctor, just through, has come down from Edinburgh today for an interview. I haven’t seen him yet, as I haven’t been in long, and wanted to write to you first. I am in the study. He is in the Club with the Sisters.
My story progresses. I have actually finished Chapter I.
Oh wretched woman! I forgot to start by thanking you very much for phoning me, and I was terribly disappointed to have been out. Just my luck. If only I’d known. I hate, simply hate missing your long distance calls. It’s just vile. Thank you so much. What a waste of money for you.
The flick last night was not what one would call first rate, but I enjoyed it for I was in the mood some how. But I do wish I’d been in to hear you. I feel done out of something very important. I felt though, that if I had stayed in I would have yelled through pure restlessness and boredom. Funny for me to feel I’ve nothing to do. It’s the first time in my life I’ve felt like this. I just feel I can’t live without you.
I wish it was March, and yet I don’t. In fact as in everything else, I don’t know what I want. There is only one thing I know for certain I really do want – and that’s to be married to you. And I do mean that.
Well dearest, this is a terrible letter, but I shall have to go and help Marj to entertain as Moué has now gone out with Irene.
How I long to see you, may your next letter be a long loving, longing, luscious letter.
All my love my darling big sausage, yours ever,
Kay x