Out of the Blue (15 page)

Dear Mrs Poll,

I am writing to thank you for sending me all the cool facts about Mustangs and telling me about the things Grandpa did in the war. He is really pleased that I wrote you and
I’m glad about that too, because I could have gotten into trouble with my mom. When I started my project, Mom said I couldn’t worry Grandpa with it because he had a terrible time in the
war and he never talks about it. But I did have his pilot’s logbook and I could just make out your name and address pencilled in the back of it. I didn’t really expect to get a reply to
be honest, but I knew I’d get a research merit for trying (I kind of need all the merits I can get right now). Anyhow, you did reply – yay for you! And I’m in the unusual
situation of being praised at school and at home and I’ve got you to thank for that.

Best wishes

John Francis

Kitty looks again at the picture on the front of the card and shakes her head and smiles before turning her attention to the letter. She opens it carefully. And as she pulls
the paper free she is overwhelmed with tenderness. For everything about it is familiar to her: the feel of the paper, the way it is folded and the handwriting. It is looser and a little shakier,
but it is undoubtedly Sammy’s handwriting.

My dearest darling Kitty,

There seems to be no other way to start a letter to you, though some would say that I hardly know you – but you are my darling dearest Kitty and will ever remain so. I
imagine that you had a shock when Johnny wrote you and I daresay this letter from me will now be another. What I want to tell you straight away is that I was warned to stay away from you by your
Uncle Geoff and I think he would have done anything to stop me marrying you and I am sorry that I let him get the better of me. I hope that you can forgive me Kitty. I found out, in 1956, that your
Uncle Geoff had intercepted my letter to you – so I also know that you must have been very let down and wondering why I disappeared without a word. Maybe you thought that I was dead or,
worse, had met someone else, but I can honestly tell you there never was and never has been anyone else for me. In your letter to Johnny you mention the poetry book and a photograph. I
couldn’t think what it was for a while and then I remembered. I hate thinking about you having that picture and thinking it was important to me. But the fact is that in 1956 I did get married
– not to the girl in the picture but to her sister. Flick was real keen and everyone expected it and I think I must have been sleepwalking while Flick chattered on and arranged our wedding.
All I could think about was you Kitty and in the end I told Flick that I’d got cold feet. In my last letter to you I said that I’d wait for you to say the word, but I decided then that
I had to find you and ask you again face to face and then I’d know.

So that’s when I came to England. I figured that you would have moved back to London but in any case I only had your Aunt and Uncle’s place in Kent to go on so I went there. I
thought that all I needed to do was win round your Uncle Geoff then maybe there would be a chance for us. I hoped that the passing of time would have made it easier between him and me. Well, as you
know, by that time Uncle Geoff had been dead some years and I realised from what your Aunt Vi said that you hadn’t received the letter I left with Bert. It was a terrible blow to me Kitty.
Your Aunt Vi was pretty distressed too – I don’t think she knew what Geoff had done. I wanted to see you but Vi convinced me not to. She told me that you were married and that you were
happy so I gave you up. I came straight back home and went ahead and married Flick.

Well, I’m sad to say it didn’t work out for me and Flick and we got divorced in 1972 or thereabouts. We’ve got a great couple of kids though, Dawn and Sally and I’ve
got five grandchildren and Dawn’s eldest Jessica is expecting a baby in November so be4fore the year is out I’ll be a great grand-daddy. In your letter to Johnny you mention being
widowed and I’m really sorry to hear that. I hope that you and your husband had many good years before he died and I pray that he was good to you. I wonder about your life – if you had
children. God there’s so much I want to know about you Kitty and I hope that you will write to me and tell me about yourself. I’m terrified that I’m going to be too late –
that something might happen to you between me posting this and it getting to you. I’m pleased to say that I’m still fit and healthy but since Johnny came over with your letter
I’ve been feeling sick one minute and giddy the next. So, what I was going to ask you is, if you feel you can do it, maybe you could phone me. The number’s at the top of this letter and
I’m going to stay home day and night like a love-sick college boy just in case.

Ever yours,

Sammy

PS: I’m still living in the old place and the cabin is still there down by the river – you remember the cabin Kitty?

Kitty finishes the letter and reads it again from the beginning. Then she goes to the telephone and calls her daughter.

‘Hello dear, it’s Mum.’

She listens quietly.

‘That’s good dear – you’re always so busy. Now darling, can you tell me? Is this a good time to phone America? . . . Pardon? . . . Oh, Pennsylvania.’

She pauses and listens.

‘I’ve just received a wonderful letter from an old friend – someone very, very dear to me . . . Is it a good time or not? . . . Oh. Well, what time should I ring
then?’

Kitty hangs up the phone and sits staring at the letter. It would be a ridiculous thing to do to wake him up in the middle of the night. And she reasons that after sixty-two years she can wait
another few hours. She stares at the phone for a little while and then lifts the receiver and dials.

Kitty listens to the unfamiliar ring tone and waits.

At last it is answered and she hears a clunk and some fumbling and then a voice says, ‘Hello?’

Kitty catches her breath. She places her hand on her throat; she is crying and unsure how her voice will come out.

‘Hello?’ he says again.

‘Hello, Sammy – it’s Kitty. I got your letter.’

This story is fiction but it was inspired by a real event that occurred during the Second World War. On 25th June 1944, fifty-two members of the 6th Guards Tank Brigade
Workshop Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, who were stationed between Lenham and Charing in Kent, were killed by a flying bomb. My father survived.