August 28, 1944
Dear Peter,
Well, I gave him a chance, and guess what? The bugger scarpered off again.
He was at home with Mam for six weeks, which I suppose was a modern record. The last time he was home for more than a week was 10 years ago. You were off on your own by then and probably wouldn't recall, but I do, because that's how we ended up getting a baby brother for Christmas. Pete, they were laughing and carrying on like they were kids again. At the rate they were going, I was afraid we'd have another little Newkirk on our hands by spring.
Blimey, Peter, I could finally see why she fell in love with him. He can be quite charming when he's sober, and he's got that dazzling smile that just takes you right in and makes you want to believe he'll take you on a grand adventure. He had the little ones mesmerized with the idea that he'd take Mam and them to Wales before the summer's out.
It's hard to believe it, but the three smallest ones have never even been to see where Mam grew up. The kiddies only met Nain and Taid once when they were all evacuated to Shropshire, and that was nearly five years ago. Imagine the two of them, nearly 80 and riding on that rattling wreck of a train from Aberystwyth to Borth and Dovey Junction and Machynlleth before finally reaching Shrewsbury. It makes my teeth ache just to think about it.
Unfortunately, Da held on just long enough to crush their dreams. He left two nights ago after a huge row with Mam about his latest venture, some business he's got out in the countryside with Ernie Walker. I'm not sure of all the details, but I do know we're the only family in the street having eggs for breakfast on Sundays.
Sometimes I don't know why we bother. I hope things aren't too awful for you and that we'll be together soon.
Love,
Mavis
August 31, 1944
Dear Peter,
You've probably just read my last letter. Just shred it, all right? The old man was back in five days with pockets of money and railway tickets for Mam, the twins and the little ones. God only knows how he wrangled those—I imagine he must have invented a dire emergency with Nain and Taid on their deathbeds or some such rubbish. In any event, instead of packing them off to Kent to pick hops for two weeks before school starts like he used to do, he's sending the lot of them out to Aber for a visit. Mam cried, I don't mind telling you. I do so wish I could go with them, but the Ministry won't let me off work for that long.
Is it possible he's reformed himself?
Love,
Mavis
NOTES: I've been on that particular train route about 10 times, and it DOES make my teeth rattle just to think of it. Nain and Taid is Welsh for Grandma and Grandpa. Ernie Walker, an all-round scoundrel who has no doubt made a nice living in the black market, first appeared in my story "In the Name of the Father," chapter 7.