4 Woolf House
Tavistock Place
London WC1H
15 January 2018
Dear Margaret,
Thank you so much for the beautiful knitted sailor suit you sent for Otis. It fits him like a glove. Well, like a sailor suit. THANK YOU YOU’RE A STAR!
I stayed away from Pam’s funeral – feel I can call her that now, not sure why – just because I couldn’t be arsed, basically. I couldn’t be bothered getting involved in the dramas of whether her family went or where it took place or what she was called. Not my circus – not my monkey. Though I did get a much nicer surprise than the others I’ve had recently when it turned out she’d paid off her mortgage and left the proceeds of any house sale to me. Blood money, I know, but it means I don’t need to go back to work once my maternity leave is over – no point telling the boss that yet, though; make him sweat. I can be a lady of leisure. Just like yourself!
I’m toying with buying myself a little flat in the New Forest, so you won’t have got rid of me just yet. And Otis will need to see his Aunty Margaret, won’t he? Who else is he going to get his drinking skills from when he’s ‘of age’?
I’m in absolute love with him, of course. He’s completely adorable. His smile doesn’t just light up the room, it lights up the whole block, the whole postcode. See photos enclosed. Fortunately he looks like his dad and not like me, thank God for that! Jamie was a pain in the arse at the birth, once he finally got there (I know, I didn’t want to have the baby so far from home, but then I didn’t want to be abducted at just a few hours, etc.). He fainted when he made the mistake of looking down at my lady bits. Plus ça change, eh, Margaret? Plus ça change! He’s got a new boyfriend. This one’s an architect. I give it six weeks.
I spoke with Cliona on the phone last night and I’m going to plan a weekend staying at hers once I feel more confident about travelling with Otis on the train. So once I know when that is I’ll give you a bell.
My dad continues to be a little star. That’s the big positive I take from all this. And with his encouragement I’ve decided to start doing some voluntary work for a (tiny) charity that helps families who have had children go missing. I find it quite daunting, but at the same time my experience is so weird I need to make something positive out of it. If that makes sense. Les stayed at the hospital with me all the time I was in there. Determined to not let anyone take Otis, of course! Bless him, I don’t think he slept for a week, and he now bombards me with texts every few hours checking up on the grandson. I think him and his missus are even toying with a move down south to be nearer to him. In that respect I feel very lucky. See? Not all bad.
I can’t begin to fathom how Jane/Linda must’ve felt when I was taken. The thought of Otis not being by my side makes me physically sick. I am starting not to judge her so much. I know it’s a cliché and I know it’s obvious, but what she went through was so appalling I can’t be too harsh on her for how she was as a result.
I’m going to take Otis out for a walk in a minute and post this. He is such a happy baby so I’ll try my best to keep it that way. There are so many lovely parks round here, and there’s a special one that’s aimed at kids, so we go there every day. Adults can only go in there if accompanied by a child, so he’s my free pass now!
Thanks again for the sailor suit. You are very generous. One day soon I will get around to sending some photos.
Lots of love, Margaret, hope life is treating you okay and you’re not missing me too much. The ten o’clock club just WON’T be the same without me! I might have to start my own: Bloomsbury Division.
Miss you . . .
See you soon . . .
Rachel xxxxx