A/N: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter, this one is a bit longer and is primary made up of the letters sent between Bert and Mary - but not all of it.
I'm really enjoying writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it!
I'd love to hear your thoughts! x
Keep The Home Fires Burning
Chapter Two
21st June, 1916:
Bert sat alone in his dug out. Night had fallen quickly in France – despite the season – almost as if the world was giving up on what small shreds of happiness it had left. But Bert managed to still wear a smile as he gently scribbled away with his pencil – almost loving the way it felt to write Mary's name. Little had happened since the few weeks he left London, but he made sure to keep writing to her – even if all he had to say was a simple hello.
A chill ran up his spine as he heard the explosion of a nearby shell – he still hadn't gotten used to that, although he had been assured that after some time it would all become white noise. He feared that somewhat, he didn't want the sounds of war to become natural for him.
Still, he kept writing his letter…
Mary,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write to you again, even though there is no news to tell, but at least I know that by receiving my letters you will not worry about me. Or, at least you'll worry less.
I know that I've only been away a few weeks, but things are so lonely over here, even though I'm surrounded by people, things just aren't the same without you. I know that we've been apart before, but I guess it's just different this time, maybe it's because I know I can't pop back over to London and see you. War really does change the little things too.
Truth is, I miss you, Mary, you're my dearest friend…but I know I've told you that before.
I hope things are going well with the Walsh family. It sounds like the two little boys are a right handful, I wish I could be there so we could take them on a bit of a 'Jolly Holiday' – but I just know you can make them happy.
Take care of yourself, Mary and make sure you keep smiling.
Yours always,
Bert.
30th June, 1916:
Dear Bert,
I thank you for your kind consideration and, in truth, your letters are always a huge relief to me – they let me know that you are still alive. But even though hearing from you is such a comfort, I'm afraid that it will not prevent me from worrying.
I do hope you're doing well over there – it must be absolutely awful. Not that they ever tell us that, of course, all we have back in London in sickeningly positive propaganda to try and keep the spirits of the home front up. I can understand why it's done – in fact, I quite agree with the method – but it can be quite hard to remain so positive when someone you care about is sat in a trench somewhere on the other side of the English channel…even for me.
James and Samuel Walsh are indeed quite a handful, but it is so endearing to see that the war cannot kill the happiness of their childhood. Although, I can tell that they miss their father very much – but they are so proud of him; they do so love to brag about how their father is a 'big, brave soldier in the army' – I hope he returns as such. I know that you'd love them, much like you they're kind-hearted and are always looking out for fun. I do feel happy when I'm around them, but they do make me miss you so.
Stay safe, Bert and please write to me soon.
Mary.
10th July, 1916:
Mary,
I'm glad that these letters can provide you with some comfort, but please try not to worry, I promised you that I would return home safely and a Bert Alfred promise has never been broken before. The battle of the Somme commenced a few days ago, things have been alright for the British side so far.
You know me, Mary, I've never been one to complain. Perhaps a trench isn't the nicest place to spend the summer, but I'm still breathing and so there's really not a lot that I can complain about. Besides, it's not in my nature – as you have so often told me.
Although the nights may be long, there is a bit of warmth left over here in France and when things are quieter we find ways to pass the time, if you look at it from a positive point of view then there are certain moments when this war isn't all bad; some evenings are quiet and we get a chance to chat about our loved ones and lives back home. It gives us hope and hope is valuable to us over here. I told the men all about you one night, they said that you're too perfect to be true…I'm almost inclined to believe them.
I know things must be hard for you back in London, but do try and keep smiling. I know that you're a happy person at heart, Mary – so the thought of you doing anything but smiling is practically torturous.
Those Walsh boys do sound like a lot of fun and I'm glad that they make you happy. I'm also glad that they keep you on your toes, sometimes a distraction can be useful in times like this. And I, of course, have to thank you for your very kind words – they're quite the compliment when they've come from Miss Mary Poppins herself.
Also, thank you for the book you sent me – it's nice to have a new way to pass the time other than pitch-black card games or listening to the men recite the poetry they've written for their wives…not that I'm complaining, of course!
Make sure you keep dazzling the world with your smile, Mary.
Always,
Bert.
0ooooooooooooooo0
28th August, 1916
Dearest Bert,
I hear that the battle of the Somme still hasn't ended, is that so? If it is, then please be careful, I know you have a duty to serve your king and country, but it really does frighten me.
I do hope you got the birthday package I sent you, I know it wasn't much, but I do hope that it'll make life in the trenches that little bit easier. It was rather horrid to not have you there on the day, but know that I was thinking of you. I hope things are as pleasant as they could possibly be over there. I miss you terribly.
I moved on from the Walsh family a few days ago, although their father is still in the trenches, their mother has gotten back on her feet – they are a loving family once again and so my work is done. I admit that I shall miss the them, but I can take comfort in knowing that James and Samuel still have a loving home.
Coincidentally, as I made my way through London on that same day, I found myself face to face with the one and only Jane Banks! Bert, she has grown so much – and Michael too – you'd hardly recognise either of them! They're sixteen and fifteen now, can you believe that? It makes me feel rather old. Although I wouldn't normally do so, I did join the Banks family for tea at their house a few days later, only to discover that there have been new additions since then: John and Barbara Banks – twins! Were you aware of this? Oh, Bert, they're absolutely adorable!
Mr Banks is still here in London, he's been lucky enough to avoid conscription – even with the widened regulations. I only wish that you could've been as lucky, Bert.
They asked me to stay on as their nanny, and as much as I would've loved to, I politely declined the offer; as I told them, there are families that need me more than theirs. However, I made a promise to visit them as often as I could. Jane and Michael also send their love to you, they miss you very much and hope that you return home safely when all of this is finally over.
My next family is the Williams family, quite small, only one child and her grandfather. The girl, Lily, well, her mother died in childbirth and her father – like so many others – fell victim to the conscription act not long after you did. She's very quiet and I can see she's hurting. She shuts herself off from the rest of the world which has made it very difficult for her grandfather to care for her. I hope that I can make a difference here.
I have nothing more to say, Bert, other than I miss you terribly. Please write back soon.
Always,
Mary.
7th September, 1916:
Bert smiled as he read the words written in Mary's artistic handwriting, the curve of each letter felt so personal – as if each one was a painting and drawn with the upmost care. His lips managed to curl into a slight smile as he read about Jane and Michael Banks; it had been so long since he'd seen either of them. As they got older, they stopped coming to the park, and although Bert understood that, he couldn't help but miss them whenever his work took him there. He had thought about visiting many times, but he never wanted to impose. They had obviously remained a loving family since Mary left them all those years ago and he didn't want to get in the way of that.
He dug through his small bag of belongings to find a pencil and paper and began to write his response…
Dearest Mary,
It's been three months since the battle of the Somme began and it shows no sign of ending, I guess I'm lucky since I'm not stuck right in the thick of it all. But please do not worry about me, Mary, understand?
I cannot thank you enough for the birthday package, it really did lift my spirits; it was as if a small piece of you was here with me. It really kept me going that night. I wish I could've spent the day with you, but I'll be home soon, just you wait and see!
I'm glad to hear that everything worked out with the Walsh family…you really are amazing, you know?
As for the Banks family, I had no idea that Mr and Mrs Banks had had more children! I suppose I saw Jane and Michael less and less as they got older and so I never had the chance to find out. Or maybe I did see them, but just didn't recognise them if they're as big as you say they are! I'm glad to hear that Mr Banks is still at home…a man needs to be with his family in a time like this, especially if he's got two new mouths to feed.
Please send my love back to Jane and Michael, and the rest of the Banks family for that matter – and tell them I said thank you.
Look after that little girl, Mary, she really needs you and her grandfather in a time like this. And whatever you do, do not doubt your abilities for one moment, you're an amazing woman, Mary and I know that you'll be able to bring this new family back together. You'll do something really magical for them, I'm sure of it.
There's a little sketch on the back of this letter – it's nothing as dreary as the trenches…just a dream I had that I wanted to share with you.
Keep smiling, Mary – for me.
Yours always,
Bert.
19th September, 1916:
As soon as Mary finished reading the letter she flipped the piece of paper over with playful intrigue; Bert had indeed sketched a small picture on the back. It wasn't much and had clearly been a struggle to draw – perhaps from a blunt pencil – but it simply took her breath away. The sketch was of a broad oak tree that stood proudly in an open meadow, the grass was glittered with blooming flowers and the sun caressed the curve of each branch with a gentle and loving hand. He had even draw a small deer grazing peacefully. It was truly beautiful, the very epitome of perfection and yet the very opposite to what Bert had to endure every single day. It was bittersweet. But Mary managed to take a shred of happiness form the fact that even though Bert was fighting in a war, his dreams were still filled with beauty.
She promptly picked up some paper and began to write her response,
Dear Bert,
Your drawing is simply wonderful, it has such beauty – you are truly talented. It makes me so happy to know that you can still convey such beauty even in times as dark as these. I'm going to keep it safe, then one day we may be able to explore it in full?
The Banks family are still sending all their love to you, Jane and Michael see you very much as a father figure and they so desperately want to see you return safely – as do I.
Have you thought about putting in for a leave of absence? I know it's rare to be granted such a privilege, but it's worth a try, don't you think? At least then I'd be able to see you and know that you are still safe and away from France for a while.
I'll make sure to keep smiling for you, Bert. And do take care of yourself.
Always,
Mary
0ooooooooooooooo0
20th October, 1916
My dearest Mary,
As always, I hope you are well. I don't have much to report, but I make sure to keep writing so that you don't start to worry.
I have been trying every day to get granted some leave, but they're just not letting me go, hardly anyone around here is leaving…I'm sorry.
It's getting a colder over here now, although I imagine it's still warmer over here than in London. I expected my dug-out to be a bit warmer than this…still, it could be worse, they could have me stationed up in the north pole – every cloud has a silver lining!
You haven't said much about that little girl you were looking after, has she gotten better yet? You know, there's a fella around here who's got a daughter back at home – I think her name was Elizabeth – says he misses her more and more each day, but I can tell that his daughter is what keeps him going, he's still got some fight left in him and I know it's because of his daughter.
In fact, I think every single soldier here is fighting for someone special – it's all we really have to keep us going. I'm fighting for you, Mary.
Keep the home fires burning and take care you yourself.
Yours always,
Bert.
30th October, 1916:
Bert,
Please don't be upset, we knew that it was an unlikely outcome. Just make sure you look after yourself! Stay warm, stay dry and try to stay well rested.
How you can stay so positive in times like this is beyond me, you really are too perfect for this world, Bert.
Lily has gotten a lot better, but my work is not done yet – I except this will be one of my longer assignments. She is getting along much better with her grandfather, but she wants her father back and that is what's really hurting her; unfortunately, that's something that even I cannot fix. It makes me feel a little helpless at times. Things would be better if you were here.
I really don't know if I'm even worth fighting for, but if it keeps you going then please fight on. I don't want to lose you, Bert. Keep dreaming of home and one day you will find it.
Yours always,
Mary.
0ooooooooooooo0
18th November, 1916
Mary read the letter under the gentle glow of a single candle – unaware that it had been written less than an hour after an onslaught of shells and 'whizzbangs' – the bombardment had rocked the dug out within an inch of its life, but there was a sigh of relief once it was all over. Miraculously, no one was injured and the first thing Bert did was compose a letter to Mary…
My darling Mary,
The battle of the Somme has finally ended and for just a short moment, everything seemed hopeful, perhaps even peaceful. I have no doubt that I shall be back home in London before you know it!
I know that I can be quite vague in my descriptions, but please understand that I don't want to worry you, all you need to know is that I'm still breathing. I know you may feel patronised, but please know that I hold back on what I write simply because I care about you. Besides, I'd much rather have you tell me about your world than have to explain mine.
I hope you're well, have you seen Jane and Michael recently? What about the new family you started working for? Please tell me all that you can…I'm still dreaming of home.
I'm still fighting for you, Mary. Maybe I'll be home by Christmas?
Look after yourself.
Yours always,
Bert.
26th November, 1916
Bert,
I'm so glad to hear that you can find a few moments of peace over there; if anyone deserves it, it's you.
I understand why you might hold back on any potential horrors and although it does frustrate me a little it is quite an endearing action on your part – so for that, I must thank you. Perhaps it is for the best?
I'm actually between families at the moment, so I promised Mrs Banks that I would help her out until I have to leave again. It is unfortunate that I should have to tell you this, but, Mr Banks has been called away to serve. He will be leaving for France before the month is over. I do hope he stays safe. As you can imagine, they were all devastated when they heard the news, but Jane and Michael have both put on a brave face – I think it's for their mother's sake. I think I might stay on as their nanny, I suspect they might be in greater need than I had anticipated.
I miss you terribly, Bert. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wish that you were there to hold me – sorry if that sounded too forward, but what is the point in hiding the way I feel?
Stay safe, Bert and please come home to me.
Yours always,
Mary.
25th December, 1916:
Bert sat with several other soldiers next to an array of dim gas lamps, each man sat in silence as they wrote letters or cried over pictures of their loved ones. The moon was full over the trench that night and a timid sprinkle of snow graced the darkened grass around the them. Bert shivered in the crisp air and wished for nothing more than to be back home in London and to have Mary by his side. He felt a couple of tears well in his eyes, but blinked them away as best as he could…
My dearest Mary,
I regret nothing more than the fact that I have left you alone on Christmas. I imagine that London is not as bustling as it once was, but please do me the favour of smiling today – even if it is only once and for just a second.
Thank you for the Christmas package that you sent, it means more to me than you will ever know. Please know that if I could send something back other than my drawings then I would.
Please make sure you surround yourself with others today – I cannot bear the thought of you being alone. Know that I am thinking of you with each passing moment. I wish I could be by your side, to hold you and to make you feel safe and warm.
I miss you more and more each day, but I will come home to you soon – I'm going to make sure of it.
Merry Christmas, Mary. I love you.
Yours forever,
Bert.
*!*
A/N: So, as always, I really hope you enjoyed that and a let me know what you thought! :) x
