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May 2, 1942

Dear Izzie,

I am writing to you as soon as I received your letter so that you know how relieved I am that you wrote back. I can only imagine that a girl like you has so many men trying to court her, but I’m honored to have even a little bit of your attention.

Nothing would make me happier than to take you out properly—or as properly as a man can when he is at the beck and call of the USAAF. I know that I have leave on Friday, May 8, if you can manage permission to leave base.

There are so many things that I want to know about you. What is your favorite movie? Do you like the spring or the summer best? Where was your first kiss? If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

They’re silly little things, but all parts of you that I want to know better.

Yours,

Jack

4 May 1942

Dear Jack,

I think I’ll answer your simple questions first:

My favorite film is The 39 Steps.

My favorite season is autumn because I love the mornings when I wake up and there’s a chill in the air that makes me want to wrap my coat a little closer around me.

Before the war, I dreamed of going to Paris and visiting all the beautiful couture houses. They are supposed to be the height of achievement when it comes to design and construction of clothing, and it would be a dream to be able to look inside for even one afternoon.

One of my favorite things about being a dressmaker is taking something as simple as a flat piece of cloth and creating something sculptural out of it. A beautifully cut dress—like a perfectly tailored men’s suit—is a thing to behold because it isn’t just the garment itself but the way it fits the person it was made for.

I think that is one of the things I most admire my mother for. She understood the power that clothing has to transform a woman. In the right dress, a woman will stand a little taller and perhaps walk into a room a little differently. It can make her feel confident or special in a way that nothing else can.

I suppose, in that way, dressmaking is in my blood.

I have been thinking a great deal about your story of what happened between you and your brother after your father died. I don’t know if I have enough good in me to forgive Sylvia, because it wasn’t just the business and Mum she left behind. It was me.

I missed my sister. I was fourteen and felt all alone.

I don’t know why I’m writing this to you. I hardly know you.

If you still wish to see me on Friday, I will be able to leave base after five o’clock.

Yours,

Izzie

4 May 1942

Dear Lady Nolan,

Thank you for your letter. I am delighted to hear that you believe that my idea for a charity fashion show has enough merit to pursue it.

I understand the desire to compile a list of names for the committee’s consideration swiftly. I will do my very best.

Yours faithfully,

Mrs. Hugo Pearsall

4 May 1942