Shock. That was the only word to describe the look on Lydia’s face when she saw the letter. Complete and utter shock. In fact, she looked like she’d seen a ghost as she stood there staring at the handwriting, hardly moving.
I thought quickly. Lydia needed a tonic, something to snap her out of it. I didn’t want to slap her, that seemed far too disrespectful and frankly plain rude. My eyes strayed to the wine bottles that stood on the sideboard and I saw that, though I had thought them to be empty, one was still about a third full. I quickly made a grab for it, pouring us both a measure into last night’s dirty glass – any port in a storm and all that.
‘Here!’ I said, thrusting a glass into her trembling hands. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’
Lydia needed no encouragement and drank it down in one gulp, before holding her glass aloft for a refill.
‘Make that one last,’ I warned. ‘Neither one of us wants to be leathered before lunchtime.’
‘Not usually no,’ she replied.
‘So,’ I tried again, my tone gentler now. ‘Are you sure you’ve never seen this letter before?’ I said, thinking back to how she’d forgotten about her plans to start running. ‘Maybe you read it before and just forgot?’
‘I didn’t forget,’ she said stiffly. ‘This letter was opened by someone else. I've never seen it before.’
‘It wasn’t sent before Jack died?’ I asked, confused by the whole situation.
‘No,’ Lydia said with a quick shake of her head, as she looked at the envelope again. ‘This is postmarked December 1962. Jack was killed three years earlier. In December 1962 I was engaged to Harry and about to get married the following month.’
‘Did you never hear from Anna at all?’ I said, clutching at straws. ‘Did she not mention that Jack was alive?’
Lydia gave me a taut smile. ‘I think I would have remembered if Anna, or anyone else come to that, had told me Jack was still alive.’
‘So you never heard from Anna again when you left London?’
‘No, not a word.’ Lydia sighed. ‘Of course I thought about writing to her many times. But Dad always said that he knew what it was like when you were trying to move on with your life after something painful. He said that he was sure she wished me well, but that for both of us to heal after Jack’s death I was better off leaving her be. So, I did as he suggested, but when Harry and I got engaged, I wanted to let her know. I just couldn’t stand the idea of starting a new life without tying up all the loose ends. I wrote to Anna and told her I had met a lovely man named Harry and we were getting married. I said that I would always love Jack and I would never forget him. I also told her that I didn’t want to upset her, but that in order to move forwards, I had to look to my past and that I hoped she understood.’
‘Makes sense,’ I said, nodding.
‘In my letter, I gave her the address of Harry's flat in Bath and explained it would be best to reach me there if she ever wanted to, as that would be where I would live when we got married. Besides, by then I was there more often than I was at my own house in Bristol,’ Lydia continued. ‘I said, that if she ever wanted to talk to me or write then I would always love to hear from her, whether it was now or in the future.’
‘What did she say?’ I asked, as desperate for answers as Lydia now was.
‘That’s the thing. I never heard from her again, so I assumed that either it was too painful for her to write to me, or that she thought I had forgotten her son and was too furious to put pen to paper.’
‘Maybe your letter or her reply to you got lost in the post?’ I mused.
‘Perhaps.’ Lydia shrugged. ‘But the wedding was drawing nearer and I suppose a part of me couldn’t stand the heartache of worrying over whether Anna hated me for getting married. I realise that must sound incredibly selfish now.’
‘Not at all,’ I insisted.
‘But Jack was alive and I never knew,’ Lydia said desperately. ‘Because here’s the proof, this letter shows Jack was very much still with us in 1962 after all. I gave up too easily.’
‘Lydia, why don’t you read this letter and see what it says?’ I suggested.
‘I’m scared,’ she replied in a small voice. ‘What if he resents me for getting married?’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ I said gently, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. ‘And after almost sixty years, I think it’s time to face the truth about whatever happened.’
Wordlessly, Lydia tore into the envelope’s contents. I saw tears pool in her eyes as she began to read aloud.
10 December 1962
My darling,
It was so good to get your letter to Mother. I hope you don’t mind but I opened it instead as Mother passed away three years ago and I am now living in her home. I heard from neighbours you had moved away to Bristol, but nobody knew your address and with no way to contact you all I could do was hope, Lyddie, that one day you would find me. I tore the house apart looking for a forwarding address, then I found your last letter to Mother so I am writing to you here, praying this will reach you.
I imagine you must be surprised to hear from me after all this time, so please let me explain what happened. The truth is, as I’m sure you can tell from reading this letter, that I wasn’t killed. I was shot during my time in Palestine, and taken to hospital where I spent six months convalescing. The Army assured me they had written to my family and explained what had happened, but in fact there had been a horrible mix-up. A James Harrison from another platoon was also posted out to Palestine at the same time, and it was he who was killed, not me. When the mistake was discovered, I wrote to you both to tell you I was safe and well, but you had already moved and Mother had died.
When I discovered what had happened to you both in my absence, I was beside myself and tried to track you down. I couldn’t believe my mother had gone to her grave thinking I was dead and you were gone. I was heartbroken, Lyddie. No man should go through so much loss at the same time. When I was then posted to the Signals in Cyprus, it was thoughts of you that kept me going. I told myself that you would write to Mother, thinking she was still alive at some point, and then somehow, we would find a way to be together, but as time wore on, I gave up hope. When I left the Army in 1961 and returned home, I tried to look for you again, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. All I could do was hope and pray that you were safe and well somewhere. Reading your letter to Mother, I am so happy to see that you are. I have only ever wanted you to be happy, you know that, don’t you? A brush with death teaches you things, Lyddie, and I have come to realise that your life and your happiness are more precious to me than my own. Truly, my love, I would die for you if it meant your happiness was secured. You are the only woman in my life I have loved and ever will love, but I understand why you fell in love with someone else. However, I have to ask you now, before it’s too late, won’t you please give us another chance?
I am sorry if this sounds selfish, to do this to you now with your wedding just weeks away, but after so long wondering where you were Lyddie, forgive me for taking this chance now. I can give you a life Lyds, the life you deserve. We could be so happy together, if you would only give us another chance. The thought of never wrapping my arms around you again, hearing your beautiful laugh, or simply holding your hand, our fingers entwined, is tearing me in two. I cannot imagine a life without you darling Lyds, you’re my world, always have been and always will be. I won’t rest if I don’t tell you the truth and beg you for another chance.
But Lydia, I am not the man to keep you from true happiness. If your heart now belongs with another then I will never stop you, that is not who I am, and I do not think that would be the man you would want to be with.
Just know this, my darling, I cannot make you love me, but you cannot stop me from loving you. You, my precious Lydia, will have a place forever in my heart. I will hope more than ever to hear from you now, but if you don’t write back I shall know that is your answer and I shan’t trouble you again. Just know, my love, that I shall never forget you.
I worship you, always and forever,
Your Jack
When Lydia finished reading the letter we both had tears streaming down our cheeks. The letter was so emotional, so raw, it had left me feeling heartbroken, so I couldn’t begin to imagine how Lydia must be feeling.
‘Are you all right?’ I whispered.
Lydia nodded as she smiled through her tears. ‘All this time lost thinking Jack was dead and yet he was right here in England, safe and well!’
‘I can’t believe it, Lydia,’ I said, smiling through my own tears of joy, so swept up was I in her story. ‘And to think, his letter was above your head for decades.’
As I laid out this bald statement of facts, the happiness on Lydia’s face disappeared, giving way to a fresh round of tears.
‘Oh, Erin, you’re right. If only I had explored this attic a bit more often, I might have found this letter sooner. I could have known Jack was still alive instead of imagining his death, worrying if he had suffered. Now, I don’t know what to think.’ She wept, pulling out a hankie from the sleeve of her cardigan and dabbing at her eyes.
‘It’s okay,’ I soothed. ‘You don’t have to think anything.’
‘But none of it makes sense. Why have I never seen this before? Did Harry keep it from me?’
‘Not necessarily…’ I said, carefully, determined not to make Lydia feel even worse. ‘Maybe someone else opened it, you said you lived in a flat…’
Lydia reached for her wine glass. ‘That’s true. There was another flat in the building. Perhaps they took it and opened it by mistake, then gave it to Harry and he forgot to give it to me…’
‘Anything is possible.’ I said, not wanting to admit the idea sounded unlikely.
‘But maybe it was Harry,’ she said, sadly. ‘That’s the most logical explanation, isn’t it, Erin? That my husband took my letter and hid it from me?’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t like that,’ I said, desperate to console her. ‘And even if it was, he only did it out of love for you. He was probably scared you’d run off with Jack or something. I mean, you did say you thought Jack might have been the love of your life.’
‘But it should have been my choice to make,’ she said tearfully. ‘I should have been given all the information to make a decision, and I wasn’t. I adored Harry, Erin. He was so different to Jack, but he was never cruel and yet, hiding this letter from me, whether he opened it or not, seems like an incredibly callous thing to have done.’
Neither of us said anything as we pondered the significance of Lydia’s outburst. I couldn’t imagine what she must be going through, and catching the sadness in her eyes was nothing short of heart-breaking.
‘I’m sure that whatever he did, if in fact he did anything, would have been because he loved you,’ I said, eager to offer some crumb of comfort.
‘I know,’ Lydia began. ‘Harry and I worshipped each other, but it doesn’t change the fact Jack must have gone through life thinking I didn’t care, that I didn’t love him any more.’
‘You don’t know that, Lydia,’ I said desperately. ‘It was all such a long time ago.’
‘But what if he hated me?’ she said stubbornly.
‘I’m sure he didn’t. Anyway, he’s probably still alive, with a family of his own now and forgotten about all this,’ I said, knowing that was unlikely to be true.
‘I just wish I could talk to Jack, and explain what happened,’ Lydia continued as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I feel as though I need to make this right somehow.’
‘Well, then, why don’t you?’ I suggested.
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Lydia frowned as she finished off her wine.
‘I mean that although you can’t talk to Harry, you could talk to Jack. Why don’t we find out if he’s still alive? If he is, you can tell him the truth,’ I said.
Lydia’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘I couldn’t do that!’
‘Why not?’ I smiled. ‘You said yourself in your letter to Anna all those years ago that you couldn’t move forwards with your future until you had sorted out your past. Maybe now is the time to go back to the past and set things in order.’