6 September 1941
My Dear Matthew,
Flattery, flattery, that's all that seems to come from your letters these days; I do enjoy it, though, so please don't stop.
Your secret about cooking better than your sister is safe with me, and whoever reads these letters for censorship.
School is school, no particularly gruesome classes or class notes as of right now, but I'll include them in the future since you enjoy them so much. Rufus is hanging in there, my overnight shifts have pretty much stopped, but I'm not out of work; he's staying above water, and as some of the other waitresses marry or begin volunteer work for the war effort - shifts open up for me. He still sends his regards and still prays for all of you over there, and he was touched you asked after him. In his words, you're a "good egg".
I don't know if pictures of me in a pretty dress might happen in the future, that would depend on Clara picking me to stand with her and this proposed wedding, and poor Eric hasn't even popped the question yet. In all likelihood, I see them going to the courthouse and then telling us later, but I will certainly keep you informed of our little world here at Wardlow.
I'm glad you like the sketchbook, it sounded like you have some extra time on your hand, and we can't have you getting bored now, can we? Between this, Miss Spitfire, and the included notes about different types of bone fracture patterns, I think I've got you covered for a bit. And I'll try to keep up the demand for biscuits, Mrs. Collins is having us try one with walnuts in it this time, so if any of the boys have allergies, please let me know. For now, enjoy some more - slightly burnt - shortbread.
Edith is still pestering me about going out; I might just accept the blind date to get her off my back, and in the worst case I'll just have to leave early - which I'm no stranger to at all. I don't know what's gotten into her, she's never been like this with me, but I guess seeing Clara so happy has… stirred something within her? Or maybe it's because we're in the middle of a war and she's got some fear in her about not finding someone in time? I don't know, she doesn't exactly confide in me and I… honestly am apprehensive about opening that door between us. I know I'm older than both girls - and sometimes they do remind me of what I imagine my little sister would be like right now - but… I'm inexperienced with a lot of things in the world (like the cinema.) While I have common sense and haven't been a complete… oh, what's the word? I haven't been completely shy with people or relationships (or mistakes in the form of relationships), but I'm not usually the person people turn to for advice.
I don't know, it's a level of intimacy that I'm unfamiliar with around other women who aren't Mac, Miss Fisher, or Mrs. Collins. Sometimes I wonder if Peg and I had continued to grow up around each other that I might be more comfortable as a "big sister" figure… I don't know.
Anyways, I'm sure you don't want to hear all about this, so I'll stop the letter here. Enjoy the biscuits - and share some of these, you greedy guts - stay safe, stay sane, and I hope to hear from you soon.
Your Friend,
Alice
[Included with the letter is another packet of notes - this time about the different variations of bone fractures and breaks - and a slightly burnt package of shortbread.]
