1st of August 1919

My Dearest Mary,

I trust this letter finds you well and full of the same vibrant spirit that always warms my heart. London's bustling streets and ever-changing skyline may be vastly different from the contentment we have found in Dublin, where your presence is a constant source of inspiration.

Let me know dearest when Lavinia has decided on a subject for her personalised story. I have never written a children's book. I feel I will require extra time to research and compose the narrative. Or maybe, you could draw the illustrations first and then I can write the story to accompany the images. Nevertheless, we can plan this together when I return home.

Work on the new novel progresses steadily, fuelled by the memories of our rooftop conversations and the laughter that echoed through Bewley's tearoom. I find myself yearning for the quiet moments we shared, sipping tea, and losing track of time.

Do keep me updated on your latest artistic endeavours. I long to hear the excitement in your voice as you describe your latest projects. It fuels my creativity and provides solace amid the city's chaos.

My work here in London is progressing well. I feel that the comradery between Reggie and I has grown everyday. Though, he told me he caught the flu in spring and still has not regained his full health. But now he looks well and is in good spirits.

He has been such a help with my research. Now darling I do not want you to worry but he took me to a prison on Tuesday to meet an actual art forger. I had to bring cigarettes and food as payment for him talking to me. It was very enlightening, and I have a much more realistic approach to the forgery plot in my novel now.

As you know me so well, you can imagine the abundance of notes I made, detailing the experience and every detail I could recall from the visit. I wonder if you would be able to draw a likeness, just from my descriptions alone?

Reggie's detective contact has proven to be remarkably informative. Contrary to my expectations, he exudes a friendly and jovial demeanour. Sporting a large, round face adorned with ruddy cheeks and crowned with blond, curly hair, he defies the stereotypical image of a detective. His amiable nature, he claims, serves as an advantage in his line of work, as his targets don't perceive him as a threat.

Generously, he provided me with his business card and extended an offer to correspond, promising to address any inquiries I may have in the future.

He expresses genuine enthusiasm, saying that no writer has previously shown interest in discussing his cases and experiences. The prospect of our conversation excites Mr. Horace MacDonald as much as it does me. While he has already shared a wealth of advice, not all of it aligns with the current novel's direction.

Nonetheless, I'm already formulating ideas for the plot of my next book. At this pace, the first chapter of my novel might end up resembling a compilation of acknowledgments and expressions of gratitude.

My business with the various book sellers in London has also been very profitable. I believe it is mainly due to the sketches you made for me. Everyone I have shown them to, along with a synopsis of the anthology has been very encouraging. As per Button's instructions I have been giving anyone who shows interest the already completed order form.

I have been in contact with Button, who has already confirmed that she has received pre-orders for the hardback copy of my book.

On Reggie's advice I have also taken the train to go to Oxford and Cambridge, to speak to several book sellers in those cities, though not having the largest populations in England, Reggie pointed out being university towns, that they would probably have a greater number of people who would be interested in my book an more to the point a clientele who would be able to buy it too.

As you can see Reggie has been priceless. Please extend my thanks again to Lavinia for introducing us. I haven't been all work here. Reggie has taken me to his club on at least four occasions. We eat, drink and converse. He has even taught me to play chess. I will confess I am not very good at the game.

I don't know if you have ever been inside a men's club. I know the majority have rules that women may not enter. But the best description I can think of the establishment, is it is like the 'Diogenes Club' in the Sherlock Holmes stories. Without the silence that is. One of the conversations I have seen, become quite heated. Strangely they sell postcards here, I bought one of the smoking room. I wonder what will reach you first the post card or this letter?

I must admit, the political climate here is not as tense as it is at home. Conversations about the future of Ireland are unavoidable. Frustratingly the men I have met at Reggie's club have expressed confusion on why Ireland would want independence from British rule. You will be pleased to here that I have reigned in my temper at such thoughtlessness. I am cognisant that I am Reggie's guest here. I do not want to offend Reggie's friends and acquaintances.

Reggie himself has been much more understanding of the 'Irish Question'. He comes from much more humble beginnings than I had guessed. It also turns out that his own mother was Irish, though Church of Ireland. She was in Ireland during the famine and was greatly disturbed by the desperate poverty she saw there. Reggie's father was a clerk and Reggie had to work hard to get where he is now. He told me he was only able to qualify for university due to his Parrish raising a scholarship for him. Hence, he is much more aware of the barriers facing working class people, here and in Ireland.

But now that I am here in London, I cannot but think of the contrast of opinions between here and there. I can't help but think of you and our life in Dublin. Your safety is my paramount concern, and I hope if you ever feel concern about your wellbeing that you will rely on Mrs Murphy's council.

I have been reading in the Times about military reprisals of the British army after the IRA attack in Limerick. Dublin has been the bastion of British rule for centuries and likely to be the safest place for us. I just hope political pressure will result in a peaceful resolution and Independence for Ireland.

If ever you find yourself in peril during my absence, the most dependable individual to turn to is Lady Gregory. Having been deeply engaged with the Irish movement for decades, she has connections in influential circles. In case of an emergency, she should be able to ensure your safe passage to a ferry bound for England, providing a lifeline should misfortune befall you.

Now on to more pleasant news. I have met Edith and her editor Mr Gregson, a pleasant chap, older than me. Edith's interview was surprisingly thorough. I realise writing this, that this was a condescending assumption to make. Edith is after all employed as a writer, by 'The Sketch', a reputable magazine. The magazine has a large circulation, so I am hopeful that will be a good advertisement for the book release in November, though this is three months away.

The interview was so well received that Mr Gregson has asked me to write a short story. It will be published in late October. I have decided to write a story about Lugh of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Do you think you will be able to draw an illustration to go with the story my love? I admit I feel excited about the prospect, especially as I recall your mother has a subscription to the magazine. I am hope this will improve my standing with your family, that I am worthy of you, my darling.

This will also be an opportunity for you to show off your own skills as an artist. As you reported that your parents seemed uneasy about you working as an Illustrator, this opportunity will show them how talented and well you are suited to the role. I am also sure it is a unique occurrence. That sisters will simultaneously be published in the same magazine.

It will not be long now before all my business is completed here in London before I can return home to you. Just one more stop in Liverpool, to visit two book sellers that were recommended to me, before boarding the ferry back to Dublin and you. I expect to be home by the 10th of August.

How I have missed you, my love. The feel of you in my arms at night. The way you smell in the morning. Our talks in our bed before falling asleep, our cups of tea and conversations in our little garden. Before I fall asleep at night, I remember the sunlight reflected in your eyes and the flush to your cheeks, how little wisps of hair escape and flutter about your face in the summer breeze. How I wish to embrace you, my darling.

I look forward to resuming our weekly lunch at Bewley's when I return home.

Until we're reunited on the familiar streets of Dublin, know that you are my anchor, my muse, and my constant source of joy.

Love

Tom