Peter,

Sorry! Mam came home and I forgot to tuck your letters away. She found them and was awfully upset. She locked herself in the back bedroom for the past three hours and I think she was crying. I don;t think she appreciated our teasing banter. She finally came out a few moments ago with a folded sheet of paper and told me to send it with mine to save postage. Then she went back to her room. I'm dying to know what she says, but I don't dare look at it. She was quiet... too quiet. The kiddies aren't sure what to make of it either. I have to get them off to bed, so write soon and let me know what she says.

Praying all is well and sending my love,

Mavis

My dear lad,

I just got back from Wales. Aunt Gwynedd sends her love. I was so disappointed to read your last letter to Mavis. You should know that your aunt hasn't had an easy time of it since your Uncle Walter died in that bomb raid in 1940. So she drinks a bit; that's hardly a reason to make light of her misery. She deserves our love and support, not whispers and jokes. And don't worry, I'll be giving little Miss Mavis the same lecture.

I also read of your Burn Night activities. I sincerely hope to read about your observance of Lent and Easter Mass in the next few letters. I promise you, my lad, I will get you to heaven if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. Just like when you were 14 and dead set on skipping Christmas Mass. You put up such a fuss until you went into the bedroom to change. You never did tell me what made you come out of there with a smile on your face...

Mavis has been nagging me about my 'special cure' for black eye, but won't tell me why. I see she was really badgering me on your behalf. Really, Peter, I should hope that you'd think me able to hear of your quarrels without wilting like a violet. As for the cure, I don't really know what your on about... I gave you a cool, damp cloth and put you to bed with a hot toddy and half a sleeping pill. Of course, your black eyes were always accompanied with other, more serious injuries. How you always managed to make it back home is a mystery and a miracle.

You'd tell me the truth, if you were hurt seriously, wouldn't you?

Never mind. I don't want to be responsible for another one of your lies. Goodness knows how many I'm responsible for in your growing up years. Adults always have a bad habit of making things a frightful mess and sticking you with the pick up. If we'd done things better the last time around, then maybe you wouldn't be where you are now. If I'd done better, a lot of things would be different with you, with Mavis, with your Da. I'm sorry, luv. So sorry.

Please keep safe and well. I'll light a candle for you and your mates at church.

Love always,

Mam

AN: Two things... One, this one is very sad and the sentiment is based on how I read and interpreted Mary Newkirk's look back on her life as portrayed in 'In the Name of the Father' by Abracadebra (If you haven't read it then I recommend doing so... immediately!)
Two, DO NOT take alcohol and sleeping pills at the same time. Both are depressants and will seriously harm you if taken at the same time. That seems obvious, but I just want to make that perfectly clear.