(The memory Newkirk recounts is the closing scene of "In the Name of the Father." He also foreshadows some things that will happen in the sequel, tentatively titled "His Father's Son," which I expect to start publishing in October.)

It was late evening, hours after his conversation with Colonel Hogan, when Newkirk finally sat down to respond to Mavis. After supper, he cast a look at the Colonel, who nodded knowingly. They'd agreed earlier than Newkirk could pop into the Colonel's quarters for some privacy to write what he felt would be a difficult letter. He scrounged up his pencil and notepaper and slipped away while the rest of the men were drying dishes or settling down to games of checkers and chess. He took a seat at the table and hoped the words would flow.

H=H=H=H=H

July 22, 1944

Dear Mavis,

I know it must be hard to have the old man back in your life, and I wish I was there to face this with you. I'd hold you tight and then swing you around the way I did when you were little to make you laugh. Then we could talk with him together.

You and me, we're the oldest and we have to be strong for the rest of the kids, especially the little ones who hardly know Da at all. I can't imagine the three little 'uns have any idea about him. The twins might be just old enough enough to remember when he actually tried to be a husband, if not a father.

I told him he should get to know you, and I won't apologize for that, Mave. He'd be blessed to have a girl as kind and sensible and brave as you in his life. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think you could handle it. And I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't a little bit scared that you're going to slip off to America and leave a hole in my heart. Even though I'd never prevent you from fulfilling what's in your own heart, ducks. I just miss you so much and the thought of getting you back only to lose you again, well I don't care for that very much. Blimey, now my writing paper's wet and the bloody pencil won't work on that spot. Are you happy?

I'm not making sense. What's my fear of losing you got to do with Da? Well, I wonder if he feels that way every day. About all of us. About his brother. To love someone so fiercely and then lose them or even just be separated from them is the hardest thing in life. Sometimes I wonder if he loved us at all. But I think he did, and does. He has to. He just has to.

I remember the day he came back from Pentonville for the first time. I think I was 10, so you'd have been 5. We were on our way to Grandda's funeral when he and Uncle Jamie walked through the door. I stood there looking at him, trying to decide if I could trust him, if I wanted to chance it. The shame of having him go away was so awful, and I didn't want to let him hurt me again.

But I couldn't stop myself. I thought about the times he'd smiled at me, looking proud of me, and the times he made Mam laugh. And I saw him holding you and Kathleen and Gwennie and I saw how you all just looked up to him like three little angels. I was aching for Grandda and sad that Da hadn't seen him before he died, and Mam was so relieved to see him that she was crying. And before I knew it, I was hurling myself into his arms and crying like a girl. For once he didn't tell me to be a man. He just let me cry and he held me. I think that was love. I was close to him for months after that until… well, you know that story.

Mam taught us to say how much we love one another. It's not very British or stiff-upper-lip of us, but I'm grateful we do it, because it means I can always tell you exactly how I feel. And Mam. And the rest of the kids. Even Harry. I expect he's somewhere on the continent by now, and I'm proud of him even though I'm scared. I suspect he's grown up a bit in the last few months.

I can't tell you exactly what to do, Mavis, except open your heart to him and listen. Yes, I know that I've warned you against getting close, but I think it's time we both gave the old man a chance. And if he hurts you in any way, rest assured that your big brother will be along soon to sort him out, and I'll have friends with me to help. But I hope it won't come to that.

Your brother who loves you and believes in you,

Peter

H=H=H=H=H

He signed his name and put down his pencil just as the Colonel came back into the room. He looked over his shoulder toward the door.

"Finished, Guv. Would you mind having a look at it for me before I seal the envelope?"

Hogan clapped a hand across Newkirk's shoulders and took the letter. "Of course," he said. "I'll take a look."

Hogan read silently for several minutes, peering up at Newkirk when he got to the blot on the paper. He gave him an understanding smile. Under all that toughness, Newkirk was a softy, especially when it came to his family.

He finished reading, then laid the paper down. "It's perfect. It's honest and heartfelt, Newkirk. You couldn't have done any better than this. She'll be very touched."

"It's a bit personal," Newkirk muttered. "Perhaps I shouldn't have asked you..."

"I'm glad you asked. I, um, didn't know that about your father going to Pentonville when you were a kid. I knew he'd been there recently, but I had no idea..."

"It was horrible. Embarrassing. Mam had another baby on the way, and we had nothing. My Grandda was dying, so my Granny couldn't help. If it wasn't for Alfie and Vera and the Levine family, we'd have never managed. My sisters and me, we'd have ended up in the Waifs and Strays Society."

"Alfie Burke?"

"Yes, Sir."

Hogan nodded thoughtfully. He'd always suspected the old safecracker was more important to Newkirk than he let on.

There was something else in the letter Hogan couldn't let slip by — the naked fear of loss. "Newkirk, where exactly is it you think Mavis is going after the war?"

Newkirk could feel himself flushing. "She seems quite fond of Americans. Certain Americans," he said. "Oh, bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? You, Sir. I'm afraid you're going to marry my sister, that's what."

Hogan smiled. "I have started to care a lot about her, Newkirk. But we need to get to know each other in person. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You'll like her even more in person," Newkirk replied. "I know you both too well to have any doubt. You'd better be good to her, Sir. I hear you're taking her flying."

Now it was Hogan's turn to blush. "You'd like America,Newkirk," he murmured. "I'll show you around myself."

Newkirk hung his head. "I'm sure you would, Sir. But I'd never manage the cost of booking passage without stealing it, which I'm not likely to do any longer. You Americans earn a lot of money, Guv. Wages are different for RAF men. Anyway, someone has to stay behind and look after Mam and the little ones. Look, Sir," he said, brightening up, "There's nothing to fret about. As long as Mavis is happy, I'll be chuffed for her. You'd be bloody lucky if she settled for you, Guv," he added with a cheeky grin.

"Get out of here," Hogan said, swiping at Newkirk's arm. "Mail your letter."

"POST your letter, Sir. If you're going to sweep a British girl off her feet, at least learn the language." He strode to the door, a bit of his old cockiness returning.

"And Sir?" Newkirk asked as he reached the door.

"What is it, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

"Thank you for helping me figure out what to say. About the old man, i mean. We've got to give him a chance to show us he can be a better person, don't we? Everyone deserves a chance to redeem himself."

Words failed as Hogan just nodded. "Yes," he finally said. "Yes, everyone deserves that chance. Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Guv."