Monday
Eaton Avenue, Litherland, Liverpool
Stella Dear,
Aren’t I prompt? Replying within an hour of receiving your letter – because I know that if I don’t do it now I’ll never get a chance later in the week. I hate writing in ink, but for your sweet sake I’ll persevere (charm, blah, blah). Now let me deal with cold business first: Yours to hand of yesterday’s date for which we have to thank you and note contents. You say that if our Mr Johnson catches the train at the even half hour certain events will follow. Is there such a thing as the even half hour? Surely the “even half” is the hour, and the odd half hour the half after hour – or before the hour if you prefer it! Having suffered an excess of Freddie, who wanted to cut the exes down today, I had to say that.
However, there is already a cloud in the sky in the shape of a meeting of the P.A.C. on Friday. Is that annoying or is it just damnable? Still, don’t despair. I’ll use my undoubted personality on F.H.S. and Philip Lawler Whitehurst[??] to some effect. Whatever comes or goes I’ll be at Grange on Friday and this is what I suggest. I’ll save the phone call until I know at lunchtime on Friday just what is going to happen. You will most probably be feeding your face somewhere about 1–1.30pm on that day and, I hope, eating FISH! When I come home I shall probably need dozens of oysters and cases of stout, but that is all good for trade. Let’s get back to business… I’ll ring you on Friday and tell you whether I am getting the “odd” or “even” train. If it’s a day like today, which seems too much to hope for, I’ll bring costume and towel, but not a full rucksack, and we can go for a swim to Hoylake Baths or some other appropriate place. We can go for a meal after that and then you shall show me the sights, including a nice quiet place just around the corner, where, of course, we will not waste too much time. By the way, your suggestion of bracken and flowers revives a very tender (anatomically) memory of sitting, yes sitting, in bracken and going home with exactly 100 gnat bites. A repetition of that experience is definitely taboo. Look again, darling, bracken is not essential!!
Yes, dear, I have thought of you. Yesterday I took a lady to Formby – Freshfield was sacred ground. There’s no reason for jealousy, however, for the lady thoughtfully brought along a husband and two children. When you have recovered from the shock, remind me to tell you about a person in a yellow bathing costume and another in a bright green one. There’s a moral in this little story. By the way, Arthur Jones came into the office today and made a most unfortunate remark: “Who was the lady you were with at the Tennis Club on Saturday?” says him. “Miss –,” says me. “Oh I thought it might have been Miss Gregson,” says him again and Freddie, Norman and Philip Lawler all sat bolt upright. You can imagine the scene with me in the limelight, working up a splendid alibi with my usual skill. Does the mention of Miss – pique your curiosity? If it does, let me say right away I have been faithful ever since Friday morning. What do you think of that as an endurance test?
You’ll be interested to hear that Norman is back, as cheeky as ever, having spent the whole of his holiday in and around Liverpool and having failed to find, or so he assures us, any outlet for his undoubted energies. Isn’t life hard?
This is a rambling sort of letter but what with the ‘B.T.’ office in this weather and you being in Grange and me in Bootle, I do not feel exactly coherent. Note the craft with which the man introduces the weather as well as his faraway love. Low down cunning, that’s all it is. For your own personal satisfaction I feel bound to say that I have dropped so many silent tears on your chair – which sounds just a little indecent to me – that Freddie has been swearing to wring that damned cat’s neck and asking who leaves the office door open on a Saturday, anyway. Poor old mog.
Seriously, I’m glad to hear that you are feeling more rested already. Hope your Mother is also feeling the benefit of the change. You will be 100% normal after Friday. I promise to do my best to see to that for you. As I am going to ring you on Friday, you have my permission to write me another charming letter to arrive, say, on Thursday to help relieve the heat and burden of the day. Until Friday then, darling.
Love in huge chunks,
Arthur
P.S. Don’t forget. No family on Friday!! If it’s all the same to you, I prefer the Grammar School to your lane. It’s enough to have one member of your family telling me what a funny face I have without the thought of the whole family telling each other just how side-splitting is the appearance of “our Stella’s young man”. You’ve heard Gracie Fields’ records, haven’t you? Well I’m self-conscious. Don’t forget that was a promise. I have broken enough rules.