Chapter 9
WD sat at the bar nursing his second drink for that night.
The position he had taken at the insistence of Mrs Carlyle was hard work but he didn't complain.
Even though some more of his friends had found jobs, not everyone had found something and the ones that did weren't usually paid much.
Together, and with the money that Anne sent regularly, everyone was doing fine. Maybe not great, and they were all still living above the bar, but at least everyone could be fed and clothed and had a roof over the head.
Their family was at least mostly still together.
Anne sent letters every couple of weeks with money from her job a few hours away, but WD had noticed that her words never sounded right. He couldn't tell what it was, but it felt like they weren't Anne's words… like someone else had written them. But he knew his sisters handwriting well. By all means, he had taught her to read and write! Of course he knew her handwriting. And the letters were definitely from Anne. They hadn't been able to visit each other in the past 4 months since Annes departure as both of them had be busy with work and Anne lived a long two hours away by train. But the letters had helped his homesickness for his sister.
Matthew, the bar tender, walked out from the back rooms and saw WD sitting engrossed in his own thought "Hey, WD! A letter arrived for you today. Hang on I'll get it"
WD sat up straight and a small smile appeared on his face. Another letter from his sister? But he had only received one the other day. Maybe she missed them too much.
Matthew came back into the room waving a letter in front of his face "Doesn't seem to be from Miss Anne this time. Not her writing I suppose" he said and handed the letter over.
Confusion spread on WDs face. Who else would write him letters and send them to the bar? No one else knew his address besides his friends and his employer, who could always talk to him the next day at work. He took the letter and looked for the return address.
'This is odd… I don't know this address. Who might this be?' he thought as he tore open the envelope. He picked up the single sheet of paper that fell out and started reading
Dear WD,
I just wanted to write to you to tell you how terribly sorry I am about your loss. I cannot imagine how horrific it must be to lose a sister and I am incredibly sorry that it was my fault she perished in that fire. I wish I could reverse the roles and Anne could be safely at your side. I want you to know that I would give anything to see her smile again. I loved her more than anything in the world and would do anything in my power to bring her back. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, that I broke my promise to you and to your sister, to protect her always. I tried but failed miserably. I will always carry that guild with me. I know it is too much to ask for forgiveness, but I wanted you to know that Anne was the most important person in my life. If I had gotten the chance, I would have given her the world and everything she desired. I would have, and still will, loved her to the end of my days and made sure that she always new how amazingly wonderful she was. It will be hard living on without her, but I do not deserve any mercy or forgiveness for what I did… or did not do. I should have tried harder… I should have hold on for longer… I should have saved her. If there is ever anything you or the others need, please let me know. I will always be in debt to you as Anne's life is irreplaceable. I wish you would let me apologise in person but I can understand if that is too much to ask. Please take my sincere condolence and apologies. They would have come earlier but my health forbade me to send this at an earlier time.
Yours truly,
Phillip Carlyle
The letter dropped from his hands.
"Is this a joke?" He asked the bar tender. "Did someone bring this letter in? Did you see who brought it? Who was it?" He fired questions at Matthew.
There was no possible way that this letter could have come from Phillip Carlyle.
Carlyle was dead… or was he?
Now that he thought about it, there was never a funeral held. He never saw it mentioned in the newspaper. And news like this would have definitely made it to the paper.
The son of the famous, white society man, Mr Carlyle perished trying to save a black woman. Of course that would have made it into the paper!
WD pushed the chair backwards with such a force, that it flipped over. He quickly picked the letter up from the floor along with the envelope and raced upstairs to find Lettie and his other friends.
Quickly he relayed what had happened and threw a few things in his bag. Everyone was excited and wanted to come, but WD calmed everyone down.
It wouldn't be wise for everyone to turn up on the Carlyle's doorstep so late at night, and what if it wasn't true. If this wasn't Phillip that wrote the letter but had all been a joke. If Phillip was still dead, then it would be unwise for everyone to travel to the next town.
And if he was alive, he could let them know and then they could all go and see their long lost friend.
If WD hurried, he could catch the last train out to the address on the back of the envelope.
It was only a ride of about 45 minutes to the place. He would arrive there late, but he didn't care.
He had to make sure this was not a joke, or a mistake, or whatever this was…
He had to see with his own eyes that Phillip Carlyle was alive before he could tell his sister.
He boarded the train a mere half hour later, catching the last one to his destination.
WD hoped with all his heart that the letter was not a fake. That Carlyle was truly alive.
His sister would be over the moon… however, the news that he was dead had come straight from his parents.
And they would certainly know if he was dead or not.
But WD just had to make sure and not leave any possibility out. So he was on his way to the neighbouring town in the hope that everything could be cleared up.
To be continued...
