Author: SH

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 7 DEC 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., King’s Arm’s Hotel, Barnard Castle. Durham.

Albert House, Colne.

Wednesday.

My dearest Ronald,

Your letter arrived by this afternoon’s post, and since then has been pressed against my bosam – or should I say my apology for abosam. Never mind I’ll be a fine buxam woman one of these days!

This blotting paper doesn’t blot. Very stupid.

I think Geoff & Co. are complete worms to cover my poor letter with such stupid remarks. Anyway, I am glad for the bit about the eggs, because that made look obviously not  a love letter!  You are a mucky pup playing such a filthy trick, and eggs are 3d each. I’m afraid you will be paid back in full – so you’d better not have your tunic cleaned yet!

I love you Ronnie, more than ever, and I wish I could give you a squeeze right now.

What I simply can’t understand is your enference to leave in April. I thought that your March leave was to be your embarkation leave, and that you would be abroad in April. Well I simply can’t follow all this mucking and messing about. Don’t tell me you get a week before you go South and a week before you go abroad. It doesn’t make sense Angel Boy, and is far too good to be true.

No, I don’t think we’ll get to St. Andrews as it is a long way to go for a short time, and is an expensive business. I am not bothered – as long as I am with you.

Yes, I’ve a feeling the India tale is bunk. I suppose if you went to India you would get no leave at all for the duration. It is such a long long way away, though you’d be safer there wouldn’t you? Anyway, it looks as if it will be France. Oh dear, what a life. Wherever it is, I can’t go with you – except in Spirit.

I am feeling very bored this evening and in the mood for the flicks. Marj is going to first aid and Moué is going to the flicks tomorrow so doesn’t want to go tonight so I am going to the Hipp by myself to see “Serenade” with Jeanette Macdonald and Lew Ayres. I don’t expect much, but I just feel I want to go out. If you phone when I’m away I shall be sore distressed. In fact, I shall be bitterly disappointed. Still I don’t think you will phone.

We had a very pleasant evening at the Alexanders. The dinner was good, and it is not the sort of house one need feel on pins in! (Badly constructed sentence)  We came home about eleven and Tom walked as far as the town hall with us. He is a real nice lad you know, and quite amusing. He was telling us about the time he ate 5 shillings worth of chips during his school days.

I haven’t been out at all today which is unusual. I couldn’t be bothered taking Prince out this afternoon, it was such a dirty and dull day. I went to sleep for about half and hour instead, and felt fine after it.

I started a “best seller” this morning which is lousy. I’m afraid I haven’t much interest in it. I don’t seem to get that exultant feeling over writing these days. Disappointing, but it can’t be helped. Perhaps it will return when I am middle aged, and not feeling quite so fluttery over you. Don’t take that I will have ceased to love you then, but I’ll probably take it a little more calmly. Besides an unmarried woman has not the same chane of writing a really good book as a married one, for she hasn’t lived entirely. A woman who knows wifehood and motherhood has a far greater insight and understanding. Mentally and physically she has reached her peak. So you see I am to be even more intelligent and beautiful than I am now.

After that speech, I really must away, my dearest dearest Ronald.

Goodnight Angel Boy, and God bless you.

All my love,

Kathleen.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 6 FEB 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Kings Head Hotel, Barnard Castle, Durham

Albert House, Colne.

Tuesday

My darling Ronald,

There is really no news since yesterday, and as I have not heard from you yet, there is very little to say. I am still hoping for a letter by this afternoon’s post. I suppose there has been some delay.

I don’t even know whether you have arrived safely in Barnard Castle yet, and when you receive this you will be half way through the course. Well, well, what a life.

I went over to see Mr Rankin last night after supper, and stayed till about quarter past nine. He says there is pretty well no chance of a Land Army job in this district. Anyway, not the right type for me – so that’s that. That means I won’t have to wear my badge any more, and I do like badges.

I have made an attempt to write this morning but nothing has happened. I have only got the length of sending off one weak story under a different name as it is so vile? And two poems, in the hopes of earning a bob or two!

I phoned your Mother again today but she has gone to Manchester. I spoke to your Father and gave him your address. He wanted to know if you had arrived at Barnard Castle safely, and of course I couldn’t inform him.

Did I tell you in yesterdays letter that Marj Moué and I are going to Alexanders for supper tonight. It was a surprize when Mrs ‘phoned yesterday. Had we not been asked there I suppose we would have to have gone to the soiree whatever it calls itself. Can’t say I am sorry; through I hope a lot turn up for Mum’s sake.

This is a very cut and dried and unromantic letter, isn’t it? Yes you have been thinking that I know. Well truth to tell, I am feeling very weary and useless and depressed, and I don’t seem to be able to snap out of it. It is a dull, damp and mouldy day, and I am in a dull, damp and mouldy mood. I think I shall sleep this afternoon through sheer fed upness.

If there isn’t a letter from you this afternoon, I shall become really morose. It would be just like the thing for you to phone tonight after I have departed for Alexander’s.

My feet are cold. I think there must be, yes I’m sure there is a draft coming through the bottom of this window. I am sitting in the study. Have I said that before? The electric fire’s on, but gosh, my feet – !! I have now decided to sit on them. That’s better.

We heard from George’s mother this morning. Poor old Walker left for France on Saturday. He is with a field ambulance “somewhere in France” now! He was at home for four days at Christmas. His Ma is such a bright intelligent person – I can’t think why he is so dull. I think he must have fallen out of his pram or had a bad knock on the head. I’ve had a good few myself of course. (“you’re telling me!”)

It is now twenty to two. Last week at this time you were here, and it will be long enough before I see you again. The days go by somehow, but I am forever wondering how they do when you are away. Everything seems so flat. It was so difficult when I knew you were at the office, or at home. Even if you weren’t with me, I knew where you were, I knew where to get you. And I had always Saturday’s to look forward to, and other little outings. Oh well we can’t bring back the past, nor can we even hurry on the future.

Darling, I am sorry to be so miserable. It’s just one of those moods that lonely people with not much to do get into now and again. Why should I be lonely with my family round me? Because you are not here, and whenever you’re not here I am lonely. I’d be lonely in a whole room of school friends because you weren’t there.

Still, I did have hysterics in bed last night. I suddenly found I could speak like Mrs Biggs, and I wouldn’t be quiet. I kept calling for Edgry and Howard, and somehow, things got very amusing and Moué and I went into fits of mirth. There is nothing like a good laugh.

Ten to two. What an hour to be thinking of lunch.

Well dearest, I’ll close for now, and if a letter comes by the afternoon post I’ll add some more. For instance, if you ask me if I love you I’ll tell you I do – painfully.

Kisses, cuddles and caresses,

Kay

6.0
Beloved I have cheered up immensely because I have had a letter from you, and it is a nice letter too. IT was written on Sunday. I don’t know whether you’ve written one since or not.

I feared the journey up might be rather vile, but I am very glad you arrived safely my lamb. A funny idea you sleeping at one hotel and eating at another!

I am interested to hear about Lawlor. Surely you can’t be going to India? Amazing about his batman. There are a lot of bad eggs aren’t there?

I hope you manage to get hoe this month though I don’t care about the dance. You sometimes have a very short memory my treasure. You wore you blue things for the first week or two of the war. Don’t you remember – your khaki pants hadn’t arrived. Of course I’ve seen you in your blue and I think you look very cute in it. Silly of you not to think of wearing it to the Rotary. Still -. But I wont build up about it. In fact, I think I’ll just say you are coming home in March and leave it at that; and then if you do come in February too it will be a pleasant surprise.

I took Prince for a walk this afternoon, and it is still very snowy underfoot. I managed to go up the fields and down the park, and I felt as if I had been a five mile walk. It is so much more tiring walking on lumps of snow. Unfortunately Prince doesn’t seem to have been affected the same way, and is still full of beans.

So Captain Banks doesn’t think winter pups are ever much good. I think he’s right. After the war we’ll mate Prince to a very good bitch, and instead of a stud fee we’ll have first choice of the litter. We’ll see to it being a Summer – or Spring litter, and we’ll have a beautiful dog. Prince certainly has the blood, and he is really not by any means a poor pointer according to Mr Rankin and Tom Mosleys’s men. I would like Tom Mosley to see him actually. Anyway, it’s not much good talking about breeding and showing while this war’s on. Of course I mean dogs!

Fancy me being such a forcel (*) as to address your letter to The Kings Hotel instead of Kings Arms. I am a clown, and gave your Pa the wrong address today. Still, I expect your Mother will receive a letter from you today. I hope the letter has got you. There surely wont be many hotels there?

I haven’t been able to follow my usual custom of looking up the place you’re at in the AA book, because Bill and Marj left it in Willie’s car – the clowns. I always like to know a bit about the places you go to. You certainly have been traveling lately!

Dearest boy, I should really go and mend a split seam in my black frock now. I have either to mend that one or my blue one to go to the Alex’s in. They are both suffering from split seams, so it sounds as if I am growing fatter.

I have also to tidy my nails a bit. At present I look as if I’m in mourning for the cat. Kiss me in spirit, and go on loving me ever so ever so much – as I do you. Yours always, darling, Kathleen

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 5 FEB 1940
addressed to Lieut. R.Helme, D.W.R., The King’s Hotel, Barnard Castle, Durham

Albert House, Colne.

5^th Feb

My dearest Ronnie,

There is really no news, but I just want you to know that I am forever thinking of you. In fact Angel Boy, I am just living to see you again.

Already I am wondering what we will do when you come home for your embarkation leave in March. We’ll simply have to make the most of it wont we? Oh dear, I wish we could stay together for ever. Bless you my love. I love you more every time I see you – and even more every time I think of you, which is very, very often.

I hope I am writing sense darling because there is a play on the wireless. The wireless always seems to be on when I write to you, doesn’t it. Granny and Mummy are here, so I can’t switch it off. It’s rather an exciting play.

I have just looked down at my left hand, and my little – sorry, I mean my big ring is sparkling most beautifully. It is a lovely little – oh dear, I will call it little: a term of endearment. It’s sweet, its dear, its darling, just like the man who gave me it. How I love you. All night, all day I’m thinking about you, dreaming about you {little illustration} That’s just a lump of love incase you don’t know.

This letter is making me feel near to you – and there you are miles away in Barnard Caslte, which I see from the map is in Durham and not in Yorkshire as you said. That makes it seem even farther way.

Curse this wireless. It’s putting me off my writing. Please pardon me if I’m not very coherent. Well of course you’ll pardon me.

Mum is the sick member of the family today. Her back is sore, and she has spent a good deal of the day in bed. I rubbed her this morning. I am a good back-rubber, so if you ever have a stiff back I shall be well able to cope with it.

Gradually you are learning of all my good points. Picked out and strung together they would make a very good reference for applying for the position of your wife – yes? Well I needn’t apply for it. The position is reserved unconditionally for me.

Well I haven’t done any writing today. I have been too busy doing Mum’s work: washing clothes etc. I haven’t even had time to do any of your pullover, and I meant to have one side done today.

I took Prince for a walk this afternoon, but I didn’t get so far. The roads are so slushy and slippery, and the snow is still very thick up in the fields. Prince is filthy dirty, and it isn’t worth washing as he will only be as dirty again in a day or two.

Speaking of dog’s, Sunni is not so well, poor lad. I think he has asthma or some such. I think I’ll go over to Dad Rankin. I want to have a chat with him anyway. I just want to know if there is any chance of a fairly decent job on the land in the district. If there isn’t, I guess I’ll just have to let the whole thing go. Well if I can write a best seller, it wont matter. Afraid that’s impossible. I don’t think I’ve the courage to start a full length novel. I’ll start with short stories first anyway.

I wish that stupid cabinet of Grannies wasn’t in the study. I am not just prejudiced but it simply isn’t becoming. It spoils the room, and I would like it to be really nice. It’s lovely with the fire on, but of course, there’s little chance of that ever happening. I think we’ll have it on one day when you are home. It’s so nice and intimate (which I can’t spell, and I don’t want to ask how to spell it as they would wonder what I was saying to you.)

I phoned your Mother this afternoon, and there was no reply. I went down to the house and again no reply. I wonder if she has gone to Manchester. I haven’t thanked her for the flowers yet, which is disgusting of me.

How are you enjoying this course? High time I asked you that I think. I hope you are comfortable in The King’s Hotel. Don’t eat too much, or I shall have to send you some of those obesity tablets. I warn you, if you get fatter, I shall take drastic steps. Don’t be hurt darling. I adore you as you are, but I am thinking of “living room”.

Sweetheart, I do hope you are writing to me tonight.

All my love treasure, Kay.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 5.15AM 5 FEB 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., The King’s Hotel, Barnard Castle, Durham

Albert House, Colne, Lancs

4^th Feb.

My dearest Ronald,

Which is really not the half of what you mean to me. Honey, I love you most painfully, and it was sweet of you to ‘phone me again last night. You are the nicest fiancé, aren’t you? If you were here I should most certainly squeeze you in two. Well, metaphorically.

I expect you will be in Barnard Castle now. I forgot to ask you when you expected to arrive there – or even how you were getting. Dear me, I never say all I want to say on these occasions.

Fancy John Horsfall getting married so soon. Well, well, well. Some people have all the luck. I suppose Donald will be getting married. Then it will only take Geoff running off with some blond barmaid to make me completely green! Still, he that waits is well rewarded – which I think I have made up on the spur of the moment, but someone’s said something of that sort before.  Anyway Angel Boy, the day will come, and we’ll be happier than all of them put together – us and our little brood. Or should it be we? The great Miss Eadie’s grammar goes to pot for the sake of sentiment. One of these days she’ll be saying “Just you and I.”

I was interested about Major Lawlor. Miss Jobson was just saying to Mum yesterday morning that her brother in law (his batman) had said that Lawlor was being transferred to – I mean – being sent to India, and being promoted to Lt. Colonel. He is getting his batman transferred to the R.A.M.C. as he will not be able to keep him – and this chap was in the R.A.M.C. in the last war. It must sound involved, but it sounded as if Lawlor was leaving you. She seemed quite sure he was going to India. Maybe you’ll go to India? But then if the whole lot was going why would he not be able to keep his batman? Anyway –

Gee, there is some modern classical music on the wireless, and it’s so modern that it reminds me of workman hanging iron girders. It’s supposed to be a water fall. Some waterfall.

Have you been thinking of me at eleven o’clock every night. Now don’t say you’ve forgotten. Well don’t forget, because it’s lovely to know that we are both thinking of each other for certain at that time.

Moué is asking the meaning of I.S. She wants to know if it stands for Irene Swire – probably because we added M.F.E. She is writing to Reg but can’t think of anything to say, so Marj has started dictating a letter. She sent that photo of herself with John on the beach and forgot to say who the boy was – so of course, the poor lad has written back an enquiring letter. Isn’t it sweet?!

I have finished Rebecca and I thought it was a very good book. I have enjoyed reading it and thanks a million (“school girl language”) you are a darling, a pet, and I want to do all kinds of things with you and for you. I want to hug you and kiss you and mother you and husband – no, I mean wife you.

As I have been lying in my sick bed I have been dreaming of you. You know the sort of dreams you had. Well mine were very similar.

My sisters are making the devil of a row. What creatures they are. There is a dame singing on the wireless now, and she sounds rather like Elina Danielli. Quite good.

I haven’t answered the Land Army letter yet. I suppose I just wont. I wish this lousy war would wash itself out. I heard from Mary Campbell yesterday (the Malton girl) and she has a job as tractor driver somewhere in that district. She tells me of one or two people who have got jobs round York way.

I’ll get back to my writing (so called) now I suppose. I’ll start tomorrow, and see if I can’t make some money. Hopeful.

Your confidential news about March leave saddens me, but doesn’t come (h)as a surprise to me. I’ll leave that ‘h’ in so as you can laugh at me!

Shall we go to St. Andrews for a day or two? Mum will chaperone us. I wish we needn’t be chaperoned, but that’s quite impossible – alack. The week will fly I suppose – as lovely times always do. May Hitler and all his gang burn in everlasting Hell fire and I really mean that.

Paper is to be rationed so I shall have to go easy on it wont I? Oh dear, how I adore you. I could take up two pages with endearments alone.

Your pullover is growing steadily, but as it is to have long sleeves it will take me some time to do. You are nice, aren’t you?

I wonder where my other letter has got to. It will probably reach Malton tomorrow. As long as no one else reads it, and you get it eventually it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a particularly nice letter anyway. Not nearly as nice as I wanted it to be.

It seems that I am about to start another page, and I must fill it as I can’t waste paper these days.

My pain is better now T.G. It was getting on my nerves a bit, and if it was wind it lasted a darned long time. But Daddy said it was possible for wind to be lodged in the something or other for that length of time. Well, I hope it stays away. My throat is quite better. Are you all right, my lamb? Don’t get anymore cold. I can see myself knitting you bed-socks – which will serve until I can keep you warm myself. You will probably be keeping me warm in actual fact. Well anyway, we will keep each other warm – and it will be heavenly in any case.

I needn’t ask you to write as often as you can this week. Nor need I ask you to be good. Think of me every night at eleven – and a great deal oftener than that.

Most important, remember I love you very very much, and my big ambition is you.

Kisses, cuddles and caresses,

Yours, Kay.

(Included in another envelope – 1^st Feb 1940)

Church House, Norton, Malton.

Thursday

My dearest Kay,

Less than 5 minutes ago I was listening to your lovely voice asking very very daringly “Do you love me.” Oh honey I do and you know I do.

And now when I’m back I have to be off again – what a life. This course is on Administration and 3 of us are going Major Whittaker Capt Banks and self. Actually John Horsfall should go but he cant go on this first one as he is ill and he will be unable to go on the second one as it is then he is getting wed. February 22^nd is the date I believe. Quite sudden isn’t it. I met his fiancée today and find her very charming and nice. A ready laugh.

I arrived back safely as already indicated. The Adjutant has said nothing and the C.O. has seen me for a minute and only passes one sarcastic remark. The Doc tells me Geoff Fell is after my blood and he’s acting C.O. now whilst Col Spencer is acting Brigadier. Anyway Geoff Fell went through to Skipton today to see what the roads were like and I hear he has been stuck once. He is returning tomorrow so we’ll see what he has to say. I have known him long enough to know how to deal fairly effectively with him.

I am returning herewith the Cap Comforter to be pulled back.

The Course is at Barnard Castle a lovely place in summer. I don’t know how on earth we are going or anything about it. I haven’t got the joining instructions yet.

Everything is nice over here. The fire in my bedroom, bottle in bed. It is very nice to be back but oh how I wish I could have stayed on with you. I want always to be near you. I am in spirit though.

All leave has been cancelled so Geoff misses his this weekend. Still he will be able to go later on. Now here honey is a closely guarded secret. I don’t know many details yet as I haven’t read the actual document but I will be having a week off in March prior to moving South. The actual dates aren’t known but if looks as if I wont be having a weekend leave again.

Ooh I think I will have to have a date. Must be because I’m thinking about you. Still if that is the case I would always be having a date!

I may be able to write more before despatching the parcel.

All my love, Ronnie

Friday.

Well my sweet I don’t know when this is going to reach you because I can’t now get it in the post tonight and anyway you wouldn’t get it tomorrow so I’ll have to try and get it in tomorrow.

There is nothing fresh. I am still awaiting instructions re my trip to Barnard Castle. I think it is a good thing that I have to go on the first one because if I hadn’t I would have had to go on the second one later in the month and by that time I hope to be making arrangements about coming home. And another reason is that I believe Geoff Fell is not coming back till Sunday so I may miss him and he will have forgotten about it all by next week. Colonel Spencer has been quite affable so I don’t think anything will be said.

I believe we are definitely getting John Lawlor in command of the Bn (or if you prefer it Batt). Fell’s mother has told all Skipton that Geoff was going to get command.

I really must parcel this up or else I will be constantly adding bits and bits so that you may never get it.

See you for a week in March. All my love, Ronald

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 1 Feb 1940 and MALTON YORKSHIRE 4PM 5 FEB 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks. Readdressed to Kings Head Hotel, Barnard Castle.

On reverse: I love you so much darling. Clough wants to know, have you any more EGGS. S.W.A.L.K.

Albert House, Colne.

1^st February.

My darling Ronnie,

Once more Colne has become dead and empty, once more the cloud of depression has fallen upon me – and that big ugly lump has come into my throat.

It has been just heavenly having you home for a week, and I shall bless the snow for ever more. At least, I shall bless it if it has not prevented you from reaching Malton safely meanwhile.  Oh dear, oh dear, I wish you were still at home. But if I just go on wishing for you to be here – you will be in another few weeks.

I have spent most of today sorting out Mum’s journalism course. Throwing a lot away, and cutting out the bits I think will be useful to me. It has been a big job, and I have now to stick the bits in a scrap book.

I went to Wonels (*) this afternoon and bought thirteen ounces of wool to make your pullover. I’ve got a nice pattern. Its in the same ply of wool as your other one – only a better quality. Just to let you know what a good quality, it cost me 8/6. Needless to say, I put it on the bill – meantime! I am looking forward to doing it as it comforts me to be making something for you.

I’m afraid I am writing a very bad letter. The wireless is on and Moué is making a din about her knitting. This makes it impossible for me to tell you just how much I love you. In any case words are so inadequate (which I can’t spell) I just want to hug you and kiss you, and nuzzle up against you. Oh for the day when I can nuzzle up to you any time. It’s vile having to wait for you like this when I’d marry you tomorrow. Hasten the day, hasten the day!

I am going to start writing as soon as I get everything straightened out. It is really surprising the amount I have written. Stories I’ve started and never finished. Some of the ideas are really quite good. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could make some money. Then I’d save it up for us.

This letter isn’t half as nice as it should be – not quarter as nice as I wanted it to be; but somehow I can’t get what I feel out of my system tonight. This damned wireless doesn’t improve matters.

I wish it was last week at this time; but the quicker the days go the sooner the war will be over, and you and I will be able to settle down with your silver salver and cup, my tea set and a whole lot of love.

The Old Girl has been particularly annoying today – although I have hardly seen her, and haven’t addressed a single remark to her. In fact, I haven’t really said much to anyone. I’ve felt too lonely. It’s queer how one can be lonely in a crowd when the person one loves most isn’t there. And yet with you alone I am never never bored – whether you are loving me, talking to me, or just sitting quietly beside me. Dearest boy, you have just stolen the heart right out of me.

I am longing for your phone call. I hope you don’t phone before I – or rather while I’m at the post. I shall run all the way there and back.

Goodbye darling.

All my love,

Yours ever, Kay.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 23 JAN 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks

Albert House, Colne, Lancs.

23^rd Jan.

My dearest Ronald,

No letter from you today my prescious, and I am just a wee bit worried. Surely you haven’t got measles after all? Oh dear, I am on pins to know if you are really coming home on Friday. Gee, how will I ever last out. Maybe you’ve written and it hasn’t arrived? Well anyway, I’m sure to hear tomorrow – and you’ll be telling me definitely if you are coming.  I tried to get you a silk tie today but couldn’t get one anywhere in this ‘ere town; but I am going into Burnley on the morrow, so I shall get one there. I am going in to buy myself a petticoat – from my shopping centre: Marks and Spencer’s!

Dicky and Rita have just arrived. Goodbye peace! They have come to see about Bill and Marjory going to the flicks. I am staying in and going to bed early so as I shall be beautiful for the great day. One would think I was getting married. Wish we were my sweet boy.

Oh dear, how can I be really romantic and sweet with all this talking going on. Dicky and Rita have just departed, but Bill and Marj. are jabbering away. The former sends “his love”. He says “Do you know about the Adam & Eve party? Leaves off at eleven.” Ha ha! I don’t think he really expected me to tell you it.

I have asked Dicky and Rita to procure two tickets for the Rotary dance, so I hope we will get.

Bill keeps making wee remarks. I’ve to say his an addled brain, and he sends his love again!

Thank goodness, they have gone downstairs. Now for a little peace.

Judy was coming to tea today, but the dope has twisted her ankle trying to do something fancy while skating – so hasn’t been able to come. I can’t say I’m terribly sorry as I feel a bit doped today, and my glands are a bit sore. I simply must be rid of them.

Here is the news. What a world, what a world. Why doesn’t this war go and eat cake. Oh to be at peace again.

I haven’t been for a very long walk this afternoon: just up the fields and down the park.

We had a letter from James this morning, and he doesn’t seem very happy. He says he is with a very Western Brothers crowd, and that he has never seen so much drinking. Poor lad. I do feel sorry for him. I wish he could have got with you and then you could have looked after him. Also he would have been able to keep an eye on you – and report – yes?

Moué heard from Reg again today, and he asked if she could let him have a photo. Things are advancing. I don’t think you ever asked me for a photo. Which reminds me honey, you simply must have your photo taken. Soon my boy soon. I insist, I command you to have it done. Think how much nicer it will be for me to gaze at your dear face when you’re away; and think how proud I shall be to show it to all my friends and relations. You look such a peach in uniform. I simply must have one soon. How about going to Settle on Saturday? Or is it too far? Well anyway, you must have it taken somewhere within the next fortnight.

Your ring is sparkling up at me, and making my hands look like great red hams – all swollen red and chilblainy. Alas, I am a wreck. Must say I’m not too spotty at the minute though. Touch wood.

I am just burbling dear. The thought of seeing you so soon is going to my head and I can’t think of anything sensible to say. Well what does it matter? I love you, and that’s the main thing. I think this is Dad back from Burnley which means it is time for high tea. Fish and Chips. Yum!

One more letter to write to you before the weekend. Then I’ll be saying things instead of writing them.

I am so excited. Don’t please have a relapse.

All my love with kisses, cuddles, and caresses, Kay

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 22 JAN 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme. D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks

Albert House, Colne, Lancs.

Monday

My dearest Ronald,

I am so glad you seem to be getting better my lambkin, and hope that today you are feeling wonderful. If your letter today had been the letter of a poor weak invalid I was going to send you a luscious bunch of grapes to sooth your aching throat, but as you seem much better, I am saving my money to buy you a nice silk tie to wear this weekend instead. Doesn’t your Sweetheart love you?

Well, I do hope it doesn’t turn out to be the measles after all, but surely it wont be now. Millin simply mustn’t develop them. My hat, no.

I am all over gay at the thought of seeing you so soon, and I am walking on air – just prancing about the place grinning to myself. How I love you. What a temperature you give me. If I were to have my temp taken now, I’d bust the thermometre. I’m boiling with love and adoration for you.

I had to take the Barnado box down to Mrs T.H. Hartley this afternoon, and she simply gushed all over me. You were such a nice boy. She had always had an admiration for you. You were always the same – whereupon I nearly said “Sey you” – so frank and genuine – blether, blether, blether! She thought the ring lovely. Solitaires are so nice etc, etc. She also, I gather, has known you since you were “so high”!

Honey, aren’t you sweet. It’s lovely to have so many people saying nice things about you. Kiss me – in spirit. Yumm, loofely!

Dicky Robertson’s ‘do’ could have been a lot worse – but as I expected, it lasted far too long. He has simply no idea of hours, and is oblivious of the fact that it is bad manners to expect people to stay so long. The thing started at six, and we managed to pull ourselves away at one – and heaven knows when the other folks finished. I was tired out, and fed up with it. We played one or two embarrassing games, e.g. I had to sit on Kelloway’s knee, and had never even spoke to the bloke. Did I feel an ass?!! There were a lot there, but I can’t write it all down now.

John and Daphne left today. I went down to the station with them, and the train was twenty minutes late. Well, it may have been more because I came away, I was so cold waiting. Gosh, what weather. There will be a lot of wrapping in Great Coats, and warming of hands by easy stages this weekend, I can see.

I am washing my hair after I have taken this to the post. It makes me shiver to think of it !! {drawn shakily} But I must be a nice clean girl for you. I might even have a bath some day.

Major Fell sure must be a mucky man. Disgusting. Then his wife surely can’t be there – although I thought she was. Fancy having a mucky husband like that. I shall inspect your ears and neck when I see you. No, I know you are a nice clean boy because you always smell of soap and good clean Ronnie.

What if you write to me tomorrow and tell me you’ve got measles. Oh heck. Haven’t you had them. I have, so I’m not bothered about infection. You can kiss me as much as you like. Whooppee.

Here is the ‘old girl’ so there goes my chair at the fireside. Her chair I should say. She must have the best. It’s cold out here my goodness me. She wants me to show her how to make mittens on two needles. Peace be with us. Now I shall have to work it out for her size of needles and wool, Joy!

My vest progresses – steadily. Would you like to hug me in a pale blue vest? You’d like to hug me in anything? Thank you. Now Ronnie, don’t say what you were going to say! Dialogue!

Dear boy, I think it is time I closed this scrawl, as I shall only just have time to wash my dirty locks before supper.

Now do be better for Friday, and don’t let anything come in your way, Here are the ‘units’, and you can have more here if you want Angel Boy.

All my love with kisses and cuddles and caresses,

Kay.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 7.15PM 21 JAN 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton, Yorks

Albert House, Colne, Lancs.

Sunday

Darling,

Either your Guardian Angel is a poor one, or he is ill too. Or more probable still, your Angel tried to tell me you were ill and I didn’t quite understand. Anyway, I am very, very sorry you are ill, and only wish I had heard on Friday, and then I could have cheered you up in your sick bed on Saturday. My dearest treasure, I do hope you are better now – well nearly better anyway. As for the measles, well really, I’d rather you didn’t have measles, and if you must have measles, please have German ones – even though it does seem unpatriotic. I don’t want you to work any twists anyway.

The weekend leave is a good idea. Do you think it will be possible to get home this next weekend. Honey, it would be lovely. I am just longing to see you. It seems years since I kissed your dear lips, and oh dear, I’m just mad about you.

Do be well in time, but don’t get up before you should. I do want to know just what’s wrong with you. I have been wondering about it all weekend, and wait with impatience for your letter tomorrow. Has he measles? Has he Still got a temp? What is it? Is he feeling really ill? ??? And so it goes on.

I would have ‘phoned yesterday, but I doubted whether anyone would have been able to tell me, as no one seems to know anything much about anyone else. Well, I could speak to Geoff.  Anyway it will soon be tomorrow, and then I shall hear about you.

Confound it. We have to go to Dicky Robertson’s tonight. Am I sick about it? I certainly am. I just don’t want to go one scrap, and I suppose the thing will go on and on into the morning. I shall not stay later than twelve. Dash it, the beastly thing starts at six. We’ve to get there by ‘bus, which is another curse, and all together I’m sick about it. Still, it will save us form having to go next week – or the week after whichever it is to be.

Mum, Bill, Moué and I were at Church this morning and MacVicar preached quite a good sermon – on devine delay. Really quite comforting Why God delays in answering one’s prayers, and how he does answer them if one keeps praying.

I have finished the helmet except for a small piece that has to be added after, and I have run out of wool. I think you will like this one. I have now started to knit myself a vest. I have decided to wait until you come home before I continue with your waistcoat thing, as I am not so sure about it. The vest is a new idea. I am going to knit my own vests and knickers because I think they are more satisfactory: fit the figure better and keep their size and shape. You see I have to think about looking nice in my underwear now.

I am sitting by the Club fire. Gee, isn’t it terrible weather. It seems to be the coldest winter we’ve had for years. I do hope you are warm enough in bed darling? I think I’ll come over, and if you’ll keep my body warm, I’ll keep your hands warm.

Yes, Michael was here the other night. Fancy me not mentioning him. So was Catherine – and Michael is expecting to be sent for by the Air Force soon now. You know he is wanting to be a pilot?

Males is at home just now, and was in here this morning, but I didn’t speak to him. I avoided going into the kitchen, as once you are in it is difficult to get out again.

There is a corporation concert on tonight – the orchestra and Robert Naylor. I wish I was going there instead of to Dicky’s. Oh Blast!

Precious, wouldn’t it be nice if you got home next weekend. I am hoping and hoping and hoping. If I can get hold of Marj before I post this letter I’ll get some petrol coupons for you, and if she hasn’t come in, I’ll sent them on in plenty of tie. I am all of a hoo ha at the thought of seeing you.

John and Daphne went up to Sam’s for dinner last night, and Elizabeth gave them a very good meal evidentially. She certainly is capable. Sam told John that Michaely – the very nice Italian-American who was with them last year, and who was down here once or twice – died in October. Sam only heard recently through another American friend. He died of a heart attack three weeks after he got back to America. We think he had T.B. He was such a nice boy, it has quite upset us.

If you come home on Friday, I wonder if you’ll be well enough to go to that dance, or if you will want to go. I shall do just what suits you darling, and if you feel the least bit ill we will definitely not go. If you are coming I shall have to wash my hair on the morrow so as it will be nice for you.

Yesterday morning Bill and Marj. asked me to go to Foulridge reservoir with them to see if it was any good for skating. We went, and I walked them round the res. and home by Red Lane, and they were too tired to skate in the afternoon! Feeble people.

In the afternoon, I went down to Mr Foulds’ mill to get some oddments for an appliqué picture I am going to do someday. He gave me a dozen nice little hankies too.

In the evening Moué and I went to see George Formby in “No Limit” at the Hipp, and having clean forgotten I’d seen it before. Not very thrilling for the second time.

I grow very sleepy by the fire and my Sunday dinner weighs heavily upon me. I wish you were here to love me. The wee settee is drawn up in front of the fire – all inviting. Still, very soon.  Oooh, I can hardly wait to see you dear big self again. If its German Measles will you be able to come home. I am all of a dither waiting to hear from you. Let it be Monday soon, and then I’ll know where we stand.

Beloved I do hope you are feeling better today, and better still when this reaches you. All the same, I would like to come and nurse you. Someday –

Goodbye for now my darling, and hurry home to me.

All my love, Kathleen.

Postmarked COLNE LANCS 8PM 19 JAN 1940
addressed to Lieut. R. Helme, D.W.R., Church House, Norton, Malton. Yorks.

Albert House, Colne.

19^th Jan. Friday

My dearest Ronald,

Back to the old typing paper because I haven’t paid a visit to Woolworth’s yet. I haven’t very long my treasure as Moué wants me to go up to the Church with her as it gives her the willies to be up there by herself.

Bill has arrived complete with dark growth on the upper lip, and I don’t think I like it much at all. He is otherwise the same as ever. We have now got a very full house, and Marjory is sleeping in our room in a small collapsible bed leant by the Rankins. It is like a bally dormitory three beds in a row. My bed is nearly out the window.

I had a terrible rush getting the parcel ready in time for the post. At least, I thought the post went at 6.30 still, and after having nearly bust myself, I find it is now seven o’clock again. Afraid it isn’t an elegant parcel, nor are the hankies well ironed, but they will do to blow your sweet nose on – inspite of flaws etc.

I heard from Angela this morning – a very amusing letter as usual. She is trying to get a Land Army job down South. She tells me one of the men is to leave the Askham Bryan poultry section in March, so there will be a vacancy. One of the girls is already working there. I rather fancy the job, as I know the place and the instructor. Also the hours are better than general farm hours 7.30, an hour for lunch – finish at 5. Do you think I might apply for the job? I’d rather have a job of my own choosing than of theirs. And in this job there’d be no farmers wife to cope with. This girl is in digs on the farm land.

A very cut and dried and unromantic letter, you will be thinking dear boy. Well, I assure you I don’t find myself being unromantic over you – ever. I have just been squeezing you in my imagination and whooping out “A fortnight today!” So I shall be worse next week, and unbearable the day or two before you come.

Beloved boy, when I look upon John and Daphne I think in a very superior way that we are a much nicer less stupid couple than they. The way they muck around in public. I just don’t like that sort of thing. Moué says “You and Ronnie are ever so much nicer together. You’re just right. You don’t maul(?) each other as they do!”

Your helmet will soon be finished and I’m almost sure you’ll like this one. I am copying it, stitch by stitch from a pattern. Get rid of the other thing with all speed. If it wont do anyone as a helmet, the wife or mother can pick it out and make it into mittens or something. I don’t want to see the thing again.

Your mother has just been up with Marj’s new frock, and I answered the door. She looked very cold – and boy is it cold. It seems to be worse and I can’t help feeling glad you aren’t home this weekend. I doubt whether you’d have landed at all. I think some how, it will be good weather when you do come.

Moué and I went for a walk this afternoon, but we didn’t have time to go very far: up the fields and down the park. It was very invigorating though and we ran down the park with Prince jumping around like a mad thing.

I fear my pen is about to run out, and there is no ink up here.

John and Daphne will probably stay till Monday I think, and if you ask me anything, it will probably be Tuesday!

I’ve found another pen… We have been playing a good deal of ping pong lately, so will have to play when you are home – if we have anytime left over. I’ll see that the chinty’s are nice and clean so that you can lie on the old hump backed couch and go to sleep. Oh dear, fortnight flig!

I suppose you have still little idea how long you will be at Malton. It is rather disturbing not to know. If you were still there in March and I did happen to get that job, I would be able to see you just a little? Well anyway, we’ll see.

Oh darling, I wish we were married and settled down, but as time alone will grant this wish, I had better wish for something in the nearer future.

Moué has just said she thinks her jumper would fit you. I wonder what she means. It must be rather small for her!

I haven’t had a letter from you today, but as long as you are OK it’s OK. And I’m sure you are OK. Because if you weren’t, your guardian Angel would have flown over posthaste to tell me so. Unless, of course, she had taken ill too, but I don’t think Angels are ever ill – in which case, you, being and Angel Boy (outsize) will not be ill either. Very confused!

Beloved, it is time I went to the Reck with Moué I fear. I think I had better just pray for you while I am there.

Give my fondest (hem) greetings to Geoff and I hope he has recovered from the injections OK and give all my kisses, cuddles and caresses to my prescious big fiancé, Ronald Helme,

Yours aye,

Kathleen.