Ballarat, Victoria

30 October 1943

Dearest Husband of Mine,

If you married a troublemaker, then I married a very cheeky man; I adored the birthday surprise after I hid it from Mum at the breakfast table before she could see it. You say you can't pull it off again… care to tell me how you were able to pull it off in the first place? Seems like an odd request to make of your camera person.

(I'm visiting Mum and Jean for my birthday, well, belated birthday, they both send their love.)

As to you ruffling my feathers and keeping me on my toes, just remember that two can play at that game and you've a very competitive wife; I'm mentally preparing a packing list for the honeymoon, but I don't think I'll need a very big bag as our plans don't require much clothing to begin with.

I can also cause harm with blunt objects, just so you're aware; I promise that I will not cause him physical harm, his ears may burn a little when I'm done berating him, but no maiming.

Autopsies haven't been illegal for quite some time, dearest; the only way I'd get in trouble doing one is if it wasn't requested, or… say someone dug up a body and brought it to me. Of course, I wouldn't accept it, but why on Earth someone would dig up a perfectly good grave is beyond me; I suppose if there were foul play involved, and the police surgeon in charge made the call… not that I can see something like that happening, so no worries about being married to a criminal.

(I know you worked hard for the muscle definition, and I appreciate it wholeheartedly for other reasons besides aesthetics.)

I told Clara about the distraction with water idea, and she's going to keep it in mind when Matty gets older; luckily she'll also have me around to give her a medical opinion on the severity of the hurts he might get into. I'll rely on my good Nurse Lawson in the future if he gets hurt while in our care (or Rose, though she might be too big to fit on the kitchen table by then.)

She did appreciate the tips about teething as it has officially begun; Matty's always been a quiet boy, but bloody hell the lungs on him… I'm glad I'm just an Auntie in this regard.

Kissing bruises to make them feel better? Where are your scientific sources on this, dearest, I don't think I've heard of it.

You've always been a fantastic cheerleader for me, Matthew Lawson, I hope I've been the same for you. I look forward to being Doctor Harvey alongside Senior Sergeant Lawson when you come home for good.

No, no delinquent past on my end besides surviving on the streets of Sydney for a time; I learned how to pick locks from Jack of all people, so close that shocked mouth of yours, dearest. Vera's already aware of me teaching Rose how to pick locks, she's also aware that I'm teaching her how to use it responsibly in the future. (Or a scoop, but Rose is aware of journalistic ethics from her father, so don't huff and puff over there about Rose learning a new skill. She's got a good head on her shoulders and knows how to use it.)

We've taken precautions about the roof, no worry, the chimney is looking good, so I suspect they'll start on the roof soon after it's finished. And I spoke to the contractor, he recommended a good land surveyor to approach once repairs are done so we can get a new and accurate map of the land and house; you'll have a new land plot map and blueprints of the house by the time you come home and we can plan from there, dearest. Mum's still huffing over how much we're doing while she's still there, but she can't argue the new longevity going into the property (nor did she complain quite so much about the draftiness this winter, so I'd say that was a success.)

True, that's very true about giving ourselves some breathing room once the house is done for fostering… I'm hoping that Dr. Blake will be amenable to being a character witness for us, but I suppose that will depend on how our working relationship goes in the future. (He's still a little hesitant about me being there, I can tell every time we meet, but he's just going to have to deal with it. Nurses help out in surgeries all the time, what's the difference between that and me helping out with autopsies?)

I am thinking about it all in earnest, I promise; I'm coming around to the idea of fostering, but definitely not without you there with me… I've improved around children, but being an auntie is different from being a mum and I don't want to do it alone.

(That's another hint for you to make sure you make it back home, dearest.)

I'm obviously the sated duck that muddles alongside you while you cluck, Matthew; you worry, I go with the flow. (I'm teasing you, you should hear my giggles as I write this.)

Jean's deadset on staying on the farm, and I've not brought up Thomas Blake since our last conversation… it feels as though she feels that she has to stay on the farm because of her past. I know she's keeping it going while Christopher is abroad, and his army money is certainly helping, but I don't know… I'm helping her out as much as I can to at least keep costs down by fixing things while I visit. I hope Christopher can come home so she stops worrying about it all; she won't accept monetary help from me either, Jean says that's to go towards the house and our life together once the war's done. She's certainly aggravating like a sister, I'll tell you what.

(Jean was more willing to give me the rundown of the people in Ballarat, and I know she's been gossiped about so she's wary of it all and I usually don't like gossip myself, but it was certainly helpful for the future. Ballarat really can feel like a pit of vipers by the way Jean describes it, living here and working here will certainly be interesting, but I'm glad you'll be beside me through it all.)

I'm sure your friend is still alive, dearest; he's got a candle lit for him alongside yours and the one for the boys. (How are they, by the way? Rufus, on the few shifts I've got left at the diner, still asks after you.)

No news since the news of Mussolini and the civil war in Italy, but I suppose things are still chugging along like they have before and there's nothing to report.

Yours, Longingly,

Alice