Chapter 1

"My dearest Miss Pony,

I have been such an ass. Not wishing to offend that sweet innocent animal who offers so much, and I can hear your stern reprimanding voice: "Candice, my child, watch your language!" but I do feel so very bad for haven't sat down to write you a letter for almost two months, since I moved to London.

Although no words of mine have travelled your direction over the last sixty days, my thoughts have often covered the distance between us. I hope in my heart that you, sister Maria and the kids, you are all doing fine. At least, my mind is restful where finances are concerned, since the Pony's home fund was set to keep you and the kids secure for the future.

How is little Tom? So shy and withdrawn, bless his little soul. Under other circumstances, I would be worried for him since he seemed so sad when he arrived at Pony's home but I know that he is in the best place possible under your's and Maria's tender care and unbounded love.

I have been blessed myself to be the recipient of such care and love from you both...My eyes have turned into two glimmering lakes when I bring in front of them you two standing in front of Pony's house, my home...

But enough with tearing up. My letter is supposed to be a carrier of joy.

I know I left home as sudden as a bird's feather blown by a gust of wind. Loosing Bert...it has been already coming to three years now. Bert not wanting to hurt the family business had even kept his passing private. We had to keep going as if nothing happened. As if he had gone to his African expeditions he so loved. And I hated him for this final decision of his and I used to hate time, because I had to carry on pretending.

But many years ago, I had given a promise...which while I kept staying home, withdrawn from everything and everyone, felt like a betrayal. As much my heart loves you and sister Maria, the kids, and everything that makes home our home, from the old tiled roof over our heads, the clucking hens at the chicken coop, Father tree, the young giggles gliding side my side with the songs of the birds, the rustling of the big oak leaves, the sighing of the tall green grass caressed by the summer wind...

I could not stay any more there...I know you both felt confused and worried. My dear Archie and Annie were also too. But I needed to go away. To find myself. To live. To learn how to be happy. Careless. Even selfish...I know this decision of mine is and probably will be the most selfish thing I've done.

Time now, he is not my foe anymore...but rather a friend. And he carries me every day on his wings. Living in London has been divine. There is exhilaration and happiness in the air which had been poisoned for so long by the war. You feel buoyant as if your soul is light like dandelions floating on the sky. I have met a lot of charming and interesting characters which I promise I will dedicate my next letter describing them one by one. I was lucky finding a nice place to stay at an area of London called Camden town. A lot of artists, especially painters stay there. Although, you know me, I don't have an artistic bone in my body, I always admired people who were naturally inclined towards the arts. And I know medicine is one area where man serves his fellows, keeping the body and mind healthy, but art too keeps the soul intact.

There are a lot of parties and dances and picnics and all sorts of social engagements to keep a single young lady occupied in this marvellous London town. Sometimes, I know you would criticise - I know in the late of the night, I do fall in thoughts deep as the night's darkness, wondering whether such frivolities are something that I should spend myself living by but...my dearest Miss Pony, I need them. If I count the tears and losses that my heart has carried over through the years...so frivolities are definitely good now. Frivolities, foxtrot and plenty of champagne...ok I'm kidding...please don't clash your eyebrows together. You know how I love teasing you.

I am also involved with a lot of charitable work, putting the Ardley money in good use, helping as much as I can those in need. And in return, life is helping me recover. Lost so many people that were very dear to me...

My dearest miss Pony, I am afraid that I started to write a letter of news and social gossip, and laughs and giggles and in the end I drift into tiring self reflection. I promise to be good and I promise to be safe. Until the day I run back into your arms. Please take care of yourself. Same goes for sister Maria. And the kids. And doctor Martin. Whenever you see him again, give him a big hug! He always liked a big hug from you...And don't blush! Until next time!

Your exuberant and always silly daughter

Candice White Ardley"

Miss Pony had reached the end of Candy's letter. Having stopped reading out loud, she cleared her throat and looked up towards sister Maria. Both stared at each other in silence. With cheeks wet and eyes that sparkled. This was a long awaited letter. And then, they exploded into a river of unstoppable laughter, tears streaming once more down their rosy cheeks, all the wrinkles of time on their faces dancing alongside it.

"Our girl is one of a kind", Miss Pony, managed to say trying at the same time to catch her breath.

"She is indeed", Sister Maria concurred.

They loved her dearly. And they missed her achingly. But they knew that she had to open her wings. Even from afar, Candy managed to spread the warmth of happiness and love in that large kitchen of Pony's home.

Their laughter and breathlessness was cut short by children shouting outside the window. Some fight about paper boats. Kept together by a string.

"He threw the rock!", a young girl's voice was heard.

"Now they are separated...", the voice trailed into wailing.

"Miss Pony!", many little voices in unison.

Both women stood up, right away. Wiped faces with the back of the hands and rushed out, knocking the newspaper off the kitchen table.

"What happened?", Miss Pony was heard outside.

Back in the kitchen, the handsome face of Terrence Grandchester was gracing the art pages of the fallen newspaper. He was back and great form after his fiancé's passing. He had never made any statements. But he had stepped down from the stage for a good year. Fans would say that his face had grown more than a year. Serious and stern...he was never a very happy looking man to start with. His eyes though, burned even through the paper. Still and lifeless, in the printed form, they still could feel like they invaded your mind when you stared at his black and white photograph.

He was back on stage. In very good form. The theatre troop was producing Hamlet. The big event of spring in New York. Terrence Grandchester was poised to realise his dream of becoming the dominant acting "force de la nature" in the West End.

On the yard of Pony's home, the witnesses gathered, the paper boat master and the assailant who out of the blue threw a rock in the stream. The string that kept together the two boats snapped, releasing them from its grip. One paper boat disappeared. The other was left on the side of the stream, looking crinkled and sad.

And like that, life went on, on that spring of 1925.