‘It’s love letters,’ I said. ‘And please go to the optician.’
She ignored me. ‘Who from?’
‘From Elsie,’ I said, thrilled. ‘This is her writing, see?’ I pointed to a paragraph where Elsie had written: “This is all very nice but how do I know who you are if you don’t tell me?”
‘That doesn’t sound very romantic,’ said Tara squinting at the page. ‘She sounds wary.’
I scanned the writing. ‘No, it gets better,’ I said, jumping to the second page. ‘Look, they’ve obviously met up by this point, because he’s written that he doesn’t want to cause her any trouble so he’ll hide his feelings when he sees her, even though …’ I turned the page back towards me so I could see it better. ‘Ooh, even though the memory of their kiss keeps him warm at night.’
‘Elsie!’ Tara exclaimed.
‘This is adorable,’ I said, reading more declarations of love from Elsie and her mystery man. If it was a man, of course. ‘Maybe it’s a woman, she’s writing to?’ I suggested. ‘Maybe that’s why it was a secret?’
‘Maybe,’ said Tara. ‘Looks like a man’s writing though.’
‘Really? How can you tell?’
She shrugged. ‘I just can.’
‘Do you mind if I grab some paper from the office?’ I said. ‘I might read this properly and copy all the notes out.’
‘Sure.’ Tara sighed in a most unlike-Tara fashion. ‘I wonder if they got together in the end? Elsie and her letter-writer? Maybe they ran off together. Maybe that’s where she went?’
‘Since when did you have such a sentimental streak?’
‘Since forever,’ she said. ‘I just hide it well.’
‘Very well.’
She laughed. ‘This is lovely though, isn’t it? Like a romcom.’
I looked down at the densely packed words. ‘I just hope it has a happy ending.’
Chapter 24
Elsie
1941
There were only two of us in the shelter because Mr Gold was at work again. I thought it was a very strange office job he had, which involved him staying out all night, but everything was strange nowadays.
It was freezing cold, so Mrs Gold and I were huddled together under a blanket, both of us with our winter coats and hats on. We looked like Eskimos, she said, and I remembered a picture in an old book my mother used to read to me and agreed.
‘Show me this note then,’ she said. ‘I’m dying to see what it says.’
I pulled the book out from under the blanket and arranged it across our laps, leafing through to find the right page. Mrs Gold moved the lantern so it shone brightly on the paper and I read the note aloud.
‘Oh my,’ she said, her eyes shining in the candlelight. ‘This is really romantic.’
I wasn’t so sure. ‘Is it?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I was worried, you know. Worried that somehow it might have been Jackson who wrote the note.’
‘The odd chap who’s always hanging around?’
I nodded. ‘He seems to be fixated on me for some reason.’ I gave a little self-conscious giggle even though I didn’t think it was funny. ‘He was annoyed that Mr Gold gave me a lift to the hospital, and then he came to meet me from the hospital and walked me home. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had somehow got hold of the book and written the message to me.’
