Darkling Cottage
Wednesday 13th November 1918

 

To dear Alfred,

You’ll be glad to know I woke feeling better today, though Mama insists I stay in bed. I’ve never known a day pass so slowly. I’ve stared at my wallpaper so much I’m now seeing yellow roses when I shut my eyes. Even worse is that Mama keeps the fire burning and refuses to open any windows. Yet despite all this, I have an EXCITING thing to share.

Poor Maisie was taken home to her parents last night. (This is not the exciting part.) It’s feared she has the ’flu much worse than me and is in a sorry state indeed. Maisie’s so fond of you, Alfred. On hearing the war was over, she saved the top of the milk just for you in case you arrived in time for supper. I so hope she’s back with us when you arrive home.

Mama only told me all this after a complete stranger brought me breakfast. I’m afraid I screamed – well, the silly girl made me jump out of my skin! The noise brought Mama running. And so I was introduced to Anna, our temporary housemaid.

Afterwards, I sat in a chair while Anna washed my hair, which was still damp from last night’s fever. She wasn’t gentle like Maisie nor did she sing soppy songs. She was rather harsh with the comb and laughed at how filthy the water had turned. You see her hair’s cut short at the neck – bobbed, she calls it, and says it’s easy to keep tidy. She’s quite the modern girl. She wears her skirts inches above her ankles too, and when she speaks she looks you in the eye. But I should be grateful: after all, she has offered to post this letter.

Sorry to run on. That isn’t the exciting part either.

It being a sunny day, I asked Anna to open the windows. I knew Mama wouldn’t approve. The fresh air made me cough rather and I was still weak, but it was good just to see the outside world. Blue sky, dead leaves, shining wet grass – everything looked super-bright.

NOW comes the EXCITING part!

Sitting at the window, I saw something move between the trees. It looked like a handkerchief or a slip blown free of the washing line. Yet even between gusts it kept moving, and I knew then it couldn’t be laundry. And before you ask, I was most definitely awake.

As it came closer to the window, my heart began to race. This thing I gazed at was just like the people I saw yesterday on the path. Its tiny form was dressed in green and on its back were the most incredible little fast-beating wings.

Oh, Alfred, it was such a sight!

Even more wonderful was that in watching it, I felt suddenly completely revived. My legs lost their ache and my head cleared. I even felt a little less sad for Maisie.

It got me thinking, Alfred. Papa may have been teasing when he called me a Chime Child, yet I wonder if there’s some truth in it. What I saw out of the window now was definitely something magical. But other than you, I didn’t know who to share it with.

When Mama came in she didn’t utter a word about the open windows; she had no need to. For the windows, dear brother, were now SHUT.

Neither Anna nor I had closed them. She’d been tidying my bed, and as I’ve explained, I was sitting in my chair. Yet the sashes were down, the catches closed. There was no breeze. The air in the room felt warm and still. Make of that what you will!

I’ve only been ill for a day and a night, Alfred. Yet it feels different around here somehow, as if after this awful war life is finally starting to recover. I don’t know quite what I mean. But there’s one thing that would make things even better, and that’s you being home again.

Your loving sister.