—

Dear Jack. It was nice of you to send us a Christmas card. I saw it was your writing and we noticed the postmark straight away and will send this to the address in London and hope that you get it all right. You dont need to be sorry about it, I only hope that you are all right and you havent gone abroad for convalessant or anything like that. I could read between the lines all right when you particular said you hoped that I was keeping very fit and well. It wasn’t no wishful thinking what I told you about when I took you to the station and my babe came in November a bit premetur but she is perfect in every way. You can guess all right that Bert is like an old hen with a chick and have made all sorts of plans for her. I still cant hardly believe our luck. I wanted you to know as you was the first one I told outside of the midwife. Weve called her Johnetta on account of you. Folks round here thinks its a bit fancy but they probably puts it down to me and Bert getting above ourselves in our old age what with getting a baby at our age and all. Still, while theyre talking about us theyre giving other people a rest. I dont suppose theres a chance of you coming to Johnettas christening is there. If there was we should be really pleased because we cant think of anybody we would rather have as godfather for her. We dont have to have her done yet and could easy wait till you come back. Dont think weve forgot Arnold just because of Johnetta. We couldn’t never ever forget him. We shall tell Johnetta how she had a brother that died in the war and about how him and you was soldiers together. Take care of yourself lad.

Your grateful and affectionate friend,

Fanny

Christmas 1917.

Dear May,

A card to wish you comfort at Christmas. I don’t know what robins have to do with it, but I thought that it was the pretty kind of card that you would like. I’m glad you agree with me about Wally. It’s like I used to say to Mrs Blood, we have to talk about those who have gone before or it’s as though they wasn’t ever real. I’m glad you were pleased with the painted likeness from Wally’s photograph, it was done by a young widow of one of our members. As you can see, she is very good at it and I don’t see why she shouldn’t get trained at a proper school. A good many of the men in the union think I’m daft, but there’s nothing wrong with trying is there? They’re still suspicious of a woman wanting to do union work, but because of my Saturdays giving family advice in the Islington bookshop, they tolerate me and if I can get somebody interested in getting this widow trained, then I’m sure I shall squeeze some sort of help for her fees from them. It’s kind of devious, but then that’s how women have to work don’t they? People say that the first year after a loss is the worst, but there’s still hardly a morning goes by without Wally don’t come to my mind. Funny enough I feel easier in my mind now I know what happened to him. It must have been over in a second. You hear stories about men who was posted ‘Missing’ turning up, but I knew in my bones that he wasn’t just missing, but I couldn’t never set my mind to anything properly. One day, when people come to their senses, they will see that men like Wally stood against the tide of things and was true to their beliefs, and that it took courage when the tide was so strong gainst them. And people will be ashamed that honest men was treated so vicious and cruel. I have minutes of meetings and union accounts and that to make up. The Executive’s a bit funny about a woman taking part in union work (but they don’t mind a good dogsbody) and I know they’re only waiting for me to trip up – but I won’t, you can depend on that. I shall be over for the day; I wouldn’t miss one of your sherry trifles for anything.

Love from Nancy

Quite casually, the French woman – a member of the ‘Committee’ in the lodging house that serves as headquarters for their group – mentioned that she thought that today must be Christmas.

Victoria slips out into the harsh, snow-rivelled streets to see if she can find a church open, not for any religious reasons, but because she has always sat in a church once a year, on Christmas Day. Her earliest memory is of her atheistic grandmother and agnostic and doubting Aunt Kate puffing smoke-like breath as they joyously sang Christmas carols in the village church.

It is the one day in the year when Victoria allows herself a few minutes of nostalgia and wonders where she will be next year this time. Wherever that may be, she hopes that Tankredi will be there.

December 1917

My dearest child,

I suppose all this cloak and dagger business is necessary. Until today, when your Mr Danny called at my office with an address for you, it has been most frustrating not to be able to write to you.

Now that I come to put pen to paper, I scarcely know what to say. ‘Wishing you a Happy Christmas’? I do, most sincerely, yet what a strange and ineffectual greeting from a father to a most cherished daughter who was whisked away. I think that Emily will never get over her dashed dream of white satin and cathedral bells, but you know E. – she is never bested so she spreads the romantic notion that you have eloped and are travelling abroad. None can say that this story has not the bones of truth.

It has been hard to be without you; my dearest, but I have always been of the opinion that women are as capable as men are of living their own lives and succeeding or failing at it, and I have, as you know, believed in their right to do so.

The letter you sent when you ‘eloped’ prompted as many questions as it gave answers, but they are questions that I am not able to ask until you and I are together and alone. I know you well enough to believe that your reasons for doing what you have done are sincere – and that is enough for,

Your most affectionate Pa

Mere Meldrum

Dear Father,

Although I am, naturally, disappointed that you and Effee will not be coming down to Lyme at Christmas-time as I had hoped, I fully understand your wish to take a touring holiday together. I am sure that you will love Scotland. Do you remember that Otis and I spent one holiday bicycling in the area of the beautiful Trossachs? The scenery there in winter must be very imposing.

Thank you for your Christmas present for Baby. I am sure that when Santa Claus has delivered it she will spend many happy hours dressing and undressing her doll and taking it for a breath of ozone along The Cobb, which is still our favourite walk.

You will be pleased to hear, I am sure, that I have become quite a social being of late (for which I have only Nancy Dickenson to thank, she having put me once more on the path to life) and have made many acquaintances in the area, not the least of whom are Anoria and Pamela Hogan, two sisters who write books and paint pictures (respectively).

I am sorry that you feel about Jack in the way that you do, for I feel most content and want everything to be nice. I hope that you will come to realize that Jack is not a man to take such a drastic step lightly. I know him well enough to be assured that there is something grave behind his decision. One day we shall know his story, and until we do I believe in his integrity, courage and honour. I can think of no more suited couple than Otis and Jack, and (whatever ‘rash and unwarrantable action’ they might have taken) I shall never cease to love them for the fine people they are.

I am arranging a very grand dinner party on Christmas Evening. The invitations have gone out and none have been refused. I believe that people are curious to see inside Mere and what I have made of it. Please come to visit in the New Year, and please give my warm regards to Effee,

Esther

Mere Meldrum

My Dear Otis and Jack,

For one reason in particular I should have liked you to have been to visit here this Christmas, and that is to become better acquainted with Colonel Holman Hay whom you met briefly on the occasion when Baby was christened, and whose estate, as you will probably remember, adjoins Mere. I suppose, having gone thus far, I may as well continue and tell you what I should have told you the moment I received an address for you, and that is that he has proposed marriage to me and I have accepted and that we shall announce our engagement to be married at my dinner party.

Holman is a widower with a young son, his wife having so sadly died in childbirth (oddly enough, the same morning as Bindon died) which means that Baby will soon have a little brother. She has named him ‘Boy’, but I think that one can hardly have children who are known as ‘Boy and Baby Hay’. I have no secrets from Holman. I believe that it was his understanding of the pressures that soldiers may suffer that advanced our friendship. He himself has had to face life with only one hand, but has told me that this is small damage compared to that of many men whose wounds have been caused by mental shock or gassing.

With the changing circumstances of my marriage, we shall need to discuss the future of Mere Meldrum, as in a few months I shall no longer be in residence here. This house has become very dear to me and it is my fervent wish that the day will come when Holman and I will have Otis and Jack as our closest neighbours.

With love this Christmas-time, from Esther and Stephanie

Mere Meldrum

Dear Kitt,

Father will have told you the good news that you are to spend the holidays with Baby and me. What fun we shall have. We have a large tree in the hallway and a small one just for you and Baby in the morning room which we have left for you to trim with decorations just as you wish. There is to be a party for you and Baby and another (very) little boy named Stephen (though Baby insists that his name is Boy).

Mrs Clipper has baked a special cake that is full of cherries which she says is strictly for children only and grown-ups are not allowed to eat it. Dear Kitt, do try to smuggle a piece for your poor old sister who so adores cherry cake.

I want you to promise me that you will not fuss and worry yourself about the journey. You know Ernest well enough and he will probably tell you stories the whole way and when it is time for your return (ages and ages away), Baby and I will travel with you.

I am sure that this will be absolutely the most splendid Christmas, for Boy Holman’s father has a whole stableful of horses and ponies and says that he has personally arranged a visit by Santa Claus to the children’s party.

Just a few more days and we shall be able to hug one another (unless, of course, that at six-and-a-half you are too grown-up for such carryings-on. Goodness, I do hope not, for I don’t know what I should do without a hug from my dear Kitt).

With much love from your sister, Esther

A VIEW OF GALWAY BAY AT SUNSET

Happy Christmas, Danny.
With fondest love, yours, ‘O.H.’