How do you write to someone you only knew as a little boy? And then met, but didn’t know – shortly – as a young man? Especially when those memories have been sealed and stowed away, where they wouldn’t have to be looked at?

Jane. The very recollection made him sick. For days he hadn’t known what to do. And there was enough drama to distract him, mercifully. He had considered not replying. He had considered going up to North Shields. He had considered replying but asking her to leave him and his family alone. All of these ideas had made him feel uncomfortable, yet each of them would recur while he lay in bed and couldn’t sleep, while he was at work and the hard labour seemed to do nothing to clear his head, while he was in the pub and didn’t manage to enjoy his drink or follow the conversation. The only option he had crossed out immediately was Jane’s own suggestion. There was no way she could come and visit. Everything would come undone. Insofar as that wasn’t happening yet.

At last, some two weeks later, he penned down a letter (or rather, made several attempts and finally produced a letter) in a messy handwriting littered with spelling errors:

Quote:Deer Jane,

Please no that I do not resent you or Frank or father and carry no bitternes for owt that happened when I returned. I new I had no place their anymore and if you said summut wrong, I do not even remember, and you had every rigth. I was and am sorry for all the pain I have caused.

I think it is better to allow father to die in piece and not bring back bad memories. I am happy to learn that you are a nurse and that Frank has a happy family. I work for the railway now. We have four children two boys, two girls. But it is better if you do not visit us and let the past rest. I am sorry for this and for everything.

Bill

He posted the letter and went straight to the pub to drink the stress and shadows away.