Months later, one Wednesday morning, Miss Hanley took the memos and notes from her pigeonhole in the staff room and flicked through them until she came to a letter. There was a stamp on it, which was odd; usually the kids' parents would deliver notes through their children or themselves. She opened it and read it.
Dear Miss Hanley,
I thought I'd write and let you know how Murph is getting on. I know you care about the kids you teach and in this town it's not like we get away from them after they leave school but I guess Murph was always going to be different.
You'll be pleased to know she's more alive, more excited than ever I saw her- about whatever it is that she's learning over there. Despite my worries that this would force her to grow up too fast it's kind of the total opposite, science brings out a childlike wonder in her, the only thing I can really compare it to is how magical Christmases used to be, that's what she's like when she talks about it. I can't understand head or tail of it but I'm happy she's so enthusiastic.
Tom works hard on the farm. I know you must know that, But he's happier than ever too with his girlfriend, she's round here most of the time and if she's not then he's not either, he's at her folks' place. Murph comes back most weekends but sometimes not.
I'm sorry for touching on personal things when I saw you last, I think partly what was happening there was that I knew this would happen. Tom will always be here of course, but I don't want to intrude on his life. Since Coop left Murph has been my everything. You're a smart cookie; I guess you must read a lot, what else is there when you're on your own? Please send answers on a postcard; I don't know the answer to this riddle.
Regards,
Donald.
Miss Hanley folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. She walked to her office and sat down at her desk.
At the time it had felt like she was getting a lecture from her dad or a disappointed teacher, when Donald had questioned her about her living habits. She had known from talking to him that he would miss his granddaughter's company but hadn't really connected his lecture to his own fears. It was obvious when it was written down, the old man didn't like being on his own.
This was a world that Carrie Hanley had been born into, Donald's grandchildren had been born into it, a place where food was scarce, electricity was rationed, and dust storms obscured the sun on a daily basis. They were used to it, it was normal. But for Donald who had grown up under clear skies with technology at his fingertips, travel, endless inexhaustible food supplies, he was isolated and he was alone.
The schoolteacher picked up a piece of paper and drew out a grid, two rows of 26. She wrote the alphabet out in the top row and beneath it filled in half of the empty boxes with random letters. Under her grid she wrote 'Crack the code to discover the key to solitary living.' After her message she used her code to write out a few sentences, then she put it in an envelope, addressed it and took it to the office. The school secretary took it for her and said she'd post it that afternoon.
Miss Hanley then went back to her office and finished marking her books before the day began.