A handwritten letter on plain paper, in a plain envelope, was given to a North Shields postmaster and thus entered the vast industrial complex of the Royal Mail for a southern journey to Whitby.  It read as follows:

Dear Billy,

I hope this letter finds you.  I am writing to tell you that our father is very poorly and that the end is near for him.  I feel that the time is now for us to put aside the hurt of the past and be a family again, if not for our sake, then for father's. Things were said many years ago quickly and in anger, but we were young then and the young do not always make good choices.

I do not know what sort of man you have become, Billy.  I know you have married, for your last letter told us so, but as no letter followed, I do not know if ye are blessed with a family.  If that is so, I hope they make you very happy, and would love to know more.
 
Fer myself, I did not have a family, choosing instead a calling to be a nurse here in North Shields. I am a senior sister at the Preston hospital. Our brother Frank has been married to Eliza for many years and though poorly of late, he is well in spirit, with three beautiful daughters.  I should love to visit Whitby as the seaside can be so refreshing. Perhaps the next bank holiday.

Please reply with your current address so we may write.

Your sister,

Jane