Evening, my dearest Mol,
I hope this finds you well.
After all you went through before you left you can’t fail to be so.
I can’t believe this is my second month of writing to you.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much it breaks my heart not to have your replies.
I know I should try and keep my chin up, but the fact that you’re not here doesn’t hurt any less just because another month has passed.
Our June came today, which, despite her good intentions, makes me feel worse. Although she did have some good news. She told me that our Kevin has been in touch.
She told me that he popped around here to see me just after Christmas, but I didn’t answer the door when he knocked. I don’t remember, but I’m sure he wouldn’t lie about such a thing.
Apparently he is back in Spain and had lost his old telephone.
That would never have happened in the old days, would it, love?
Do you remember when we first had our telephone connected, Mol?
It was the size of my head, wasn’t it?
Remember how we just sat for days, staring at it, waiting for it to ring? Then we remembered that not many of our friends had phones and we could be there for a long time.
We couldn’t have lost that huge Bakelite telephone if we had tried our damnedest, could we?
She left me our Kevin’s new number, but I wasn’t up to ringing him today.
I will try him tomorrow.
As I will continue to ask you to drop in on me.
All my very best love.
Yours forever, Bill.