Monday, 30 November, 1942 - Stan's letter

Grimethorpe

Monday evening (or Tuesday morning)  

My Own Darling,

Mrs Mabel Bristow (Grimethorpe) has just finished her weekly talk “The Goings-on at the Knitting Club” a very witty & informative discourse, & the time is now past midnight.  I thought, however, my Dear, that I would finish up what will most likely be my last night at home by writing to you.

What tortuous days these past three have been, hanging about Grimethorpe with nothing to do & memories of our time together meeting me at every turn.  During the past ten months Grimethorpe has meant only two things to me – Home and YOU!  And when you are gone well, things are just not complete.

The only bright spot has been the arrival of your letter this morning, Angel, & as you point out & as you experienced yourself, once back at work & the numbness of parting disappears a little.

Nothing will ever erase the memories of our time together from my mind, my sweet!  Work will only perhaps push it to the back of my mind temporarily, ready for it to be brought to the front again when I am quiet & wish to dream a bit (my favourite pastime, you know, especially when you are the “star” of my dream picture).

I noticed your feelings as you left me on Friday believe me, they were shared to the fullest extent by myself.

Of course you don’t belong to the hospital – no more than I belong to the Army!!  There is only one place we both belong now, my Darling, & that’s by each others side.

No-one in the full possession of their senses could attempt to say that you belong in a world of sick & dying.  You belong where there’s life, & knowing how you feel now, that life is with me.

“One Fine Day ...............”

(Do you know that song from “Madam Butterfly”, by the way?  It rather suits the present situation).

Writing to you & pouring out my present feelings to you through the medium of this pen has made me feel much better already.  Its grand to have someone to confide everything in, isn’t it?  Please, my Dear, don’t hold anything back when you are writing to me as you have done in the past, will you, for your letters are always so heartening to me!

I went up to 56 to say “Goodbye” this evening.  Why are “Goodbyes” always so awkward to say?

Vera packed me up several books including “The Purposes of Love” which I will return to you when I have finished reading it.  She was busy sewing when I got there.  She has been making some “pinnies” & has almost completed them I think.

Your Mother discovered that you had left the photographs behind almost as soon as we did & they posted them to you on Saturday.  I suppose you will have received them by now.

It is nearly 1 a.m. now & my thoughts have just been wandering, firstly to your ward and wondering if you are busy & secondly to the armchair in your kitchen, which we were occupying this precise moment a week ago.  How uncomfortable that chair was at the same time being so heavenly that neither one of us wanted to say “Goodnight”.

Now I wish we could relive that moment again to-night, Darling, & me feel you shuddering with happiness as these uncontrollable hands of mine sought some new way of teasing you!!

But as you say in your letter, those things are to come again & I am sure that this period of waiting will only serve to make them sweeter & more thrilling when at long last our patience is rewarded and we are together again. 

Angel, I must say “Bon Soir” now.  It’s sweet of you to write me a letter so that I get it to-morrow.  I shall be feeling like a “pick-me-up” when I arrive back.

All my love, My Darling.  Yours Stan  xxxxx