From: Mrs Hughes
To: Rosie
Date: 15 April
Dear, Rosie
I got your letter about how difficult you are finding your job at the moment and I want you to take notice and believe what I’m about to say.
You have nothing to prove, my love. What I want you to do is to imagine your future self - the woman you want to be twenty years from now - and she’s looking back at you. Your future self (who is going to be an amazing woman) is calmly explaining that you need to be proud of yourself. She’s telling you to stay composed, graceful and feminine. To remember how much inner strength, you’ve found already. She’s telling you that you DO have a role to play out there, but the bigger picture is yet to reveal itself.
I’ve talked things over with Dad, and I’ve finally admitted you’ve been writing to me separately (he says to say, don’t be a daft sod, he’s stronger than you know). He also said to tell you he read something in a magazine at the doctors the other day and wants to pass it on - life is 10% what happens to us and 90 % how we react to it. Stay calm, stay strong, and above all else, stay safe, my love.
Lots of love,
Mum (and Dad) xx
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Date: 18 April
Hello, you two.
You have email! Fabulous. Be careful, you may become spoiled. This is my email address. More soon, off to the café.
Love, Ag
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Nirvana
Date: 20 April
Dear, Aggie
That’s it! I just have to visit Appledart now. Ishmael and Anya sound to be exactly the sort of people I’d like to knock back a bottle of whiskey and chat with into the wee hours of the morning.
My news from here is uncertain. I may only have one more week with Rosie because it’s likely I’m moving to work with one of the brigades for a few weeks, after which time an army doctor will come out to replace me. Now the heat of the war has dampened, my appointing officer says the RAF want me home, although, at the risk of sounding trite, when I say home, I have absolutely no idea where my home is anymore. It’s exactly a month since the war started but it feels like a year. Everything is different now. Based at the airport, I believe that we (the original Headquarters staff) feel our job is done here – that we no longer belong in Iraq. We fought a war in four weeks and we’re exhausted. Our uniforms are as tired as we are and it’s time for a new tranche of soldiers to come to Basra to make their mark, although God knows, I pity them. Unlike those who will replace us, during the war there was a forward line of troops – an objective – which was relatively clean-cut. Now we want to befriend the enemy. But this is the Middle East, not the West, and I can’t help but wonder about so many things, and worry. Back to my original point, that being the realisation that I have no notion of where to call home anymore. I will leave Iraq having found and lost myself in the desert. We have lived as a collective, thinking of nothing but survival – eating, sleeping and working together. Tomorrow didn’t really matter, and although I had huge crisis of morality, I felt centred, and when busy, my mind did not think about anything beyond the present moment (especially when I was lost in one of your books, of course). But now we’re at the airport, my thoughts are confused, and I have to dig deep and admit some truths. But that’s enough about me, you still haven’t given me any decent gossip on the customers.
G
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Nirvana
Date: 20 April
Dear, Gethyn
Email is great! It’s wonderful to be able to respond on the same day. I’m sorry you are feeling a little lost. I’ll send some sticky chocolate fudge brownies – it’s my go-to food in times of uncertainty.
Aggie x
P.S. Sorry for the short email, I’ll do better tonight. Shaun has just phoned and we have reports of a lone man with silver hair and posh shoes at the jetty and we need to go to action stations.
P.P.S. I cannot possibly divulge the secrets of the confessional (did I say confessional, I meant café). But – we did have a woman in last week who I suspect may have murdered her husband – honest to God, not kidding. She said her husband went missing two years ago and it’s a real mystery. But I swear there was an evil glint in her eye (and almost a twitch) AND when she laughed with another customer, she had one of those evil villain, throw your head back laughs. And that is the case for the prosecution, me lud.
P.P.P.S Violin dispatched. Not sure if it’s a good one. I bought it off the fiddler who plays at the pub.
‘E’ Bluey
From: Oliver
To: Rosie
Date: 25 April
Dear, Rosie
Thank you for your letter. Miss says I can’t use a laptop in class. I need to practise my handwriting because of spelling and all the other kids will want one and she can’t afford it. I type your letters by myself, now. My typing is very slow because I don’t know where all the keys are so Miss still helps. I like the idea of being a fisherman to make money but no offence, why do grown-ups always talk about what kids will do when they grow up? Why is it one of the first questions I’m asked by strangers? I do like animals. I once had a dog. Last year I lived in a house that had a little dog called Scamper. She ran out of the garden and I found her on the road squashed and now when I think of Scamper, I can’t breathe, so I don’t think about it at all if I can. I tried to smile this week like you said, but Matt in class said he’d kick my brains out if I kept smiling at him, so I stopped. I don’t think wishing works. I wished Matt was nicer to me, but he never was and I wished I got an XBox for Christmas and that didn’t happen either. Have you used your gun yet? I prayed for you in assembly again. A woman is thinking of adopting me. It would be nice to stop moving around but why would someone want to adopt someone else? Why would someone want me in their house all the time?
Oliver
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Thanks
Date: 28 April
Hi, Mum and Dad
No, you aren’t seeing things, we have email now. But no need to panic. We’re safe as houses and snug as a bug. It’s becoming unbearably hot, but we have electricity and have been given electric fans to cool us down, although we decided to turn them off as they just blow burning-hot air into your face. Thanks again for all the parcels you’ve been sending – keep them coming. Aggie has been sending books, which I’ve passed onto my friend Gethyn as I don’t seem to be able to concentrate on reading a novel at the moment, but magazines are a nice, bite-sized respite. Are you having much rain? I would love to feel the rain on my face and walk barefoot on the grass and surround myself with the colour green - heaven. I don’t believe there is any place more beautiful than home in the spring. Please enjoy it on my behalf by having some fabulous trips away in the caravan. Do you remember that trip we made to Tenby when I was twelve, or maybe I was a bit older? It was such a fabulous holiday. Maybe we could all go to Tenby when I come home? Maybe we could persuade Simon to take a special trip back, just so we can all be together again?
Please don’t worry too much. I’m absolutely fine – get yourselves off to the caravan – life is for living.
Love you all so much, Rosie x
P.S. I haven’t forgotten about the school, but I’m not sure about the best step forward.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Feeling Better
Date: 29 April
Hi, Aggie
Oh my God! A violin came through the post for me today. The thing was, the sender hadn’t put their sender’s details or a description on the box, so the Army were going to blow it up. And then Gethyn dashed in and said, ‘Stop! It’s not a gun, it’s a violin’ -
and it was. A bloody violin – in the desert. Despite being anonymous, this kind of antic has your name written all over it – was it you? Gethyn won’t say. If so, thank you, I love it.
I’m feeling more upbeat today. I got an email from Mum recently saying that I should imagine my future self and imagine her talking me through my life. I’m not sure this kind of thing works for me, but it’s promising that she feels positive enough to give firm advice.
I’ve yet another favour to ask, but it’s on behalf of someone else – someone in need - so I hope you don’t mind. Do you remember lovely Mrs Cartwright, our headmistress at primary school? You may know this already, but she’s still the headmistress (she must be about a hundred and ten by now). The thing is, she wrote to me on the day the war started attaching a lovely letter from one of the kids at school. He’s called Oliver. He has learning difficulties and is in foster care. I want to get him a laptop, but I think Mrs Cartwright is reticent. I know you’ll be reticent, but the bucket list did say that we should help one person and make a difference to their lives – Oliver is my person. Can you possibly investigate so see if there are any specific typing programmes to help children who have writing difficulties? I will pay for everything. Can you phone Mrs Cartwright and ask, please?
Lots of love,
Rosie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: At Last!
Date: 29 April
Dear, Babe
Email at last? Fantastic! Well, if you’re sure you’re safe then we may get off to Whitby tomorrow and air the van.
We remember the trip to Wales – of course we do! We stayed at a lovely campsite near St Davids. You insisted I pull into a layby as we headed down the hill towards the caravan site to look at the sunset across the bay. It’s where Simon taught you to surf. You fought like cat and dog over that bloody surf board for the rest of the week, God only knows why we didn’t buy two – oh, Mammy just said there was only one blue one in the shop and you both wanted it. There was a lovely fish and chip shop in St Davids. She remembers that you insisted on battered sausage, awkward little bugger! Oh, she’s just lifted her head from her book to say you were definitely thirteen when we went to Wales because Simon had just finished his exams and went into the lower sixth that September.
I don’t know what’s got into Mammy these past couple of weeks but she’s changed – much more positive. I don’t think she’s changed her medication, though. Anyway, you know where we are. Mobile will be on. Phone when you can.
KYHD.
Love you babe, Dad xx
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Email
Date: 2 May
Josh
I wanted to let you know that we have email now. This is my email address (obviously). Probably best if we correspond via email from now on as it will be more immediate for sorting everything out.
Rosie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Bits and Bobs
Date: 3 May
Dear, Gethyn
Sorry I didn’t write back when I promised. I fell into bed, shattered.
Oh dear. I see what you mean about people acting out their tarot card readings, but having spent some time with Anya, she doesn’t seem to be a con-woman, in fact, she never touts for business and I don’t believe she has ever sought out customers (perhaps ‘clients’ would be a better term?). But maybe that’s the point with a master of deception, you’ll never know if you’ve been deceived. One universal truth I do know is this: I always know when it’s one of Anya’s clients who arrives at the café because, on the whole, they carry a tangible sadness with them – you can see it, and that must be a kind of energy, surely. But when they leave, they seem much lighter of spirit. So perhaps, whether there is truth in the cards – or the stars – or anything else a lost soul might turn to in time of need, Anya does provide comfort, but I do agree with you that it could possibly lead a person in a certain direction. I suppose it depends how the individual concerned interprets her words. Perhaps you should cross her palm with silver, too? You could make a better judgement then.
In other news, hopefully Rosie will have filled you in with all the latest goings on in the café and our impending visit by Nathan Browne (or have I done this already? I’m forgetting which one of you I have told what). Regarding my latest dreaded manuscript, I haven’t written a word and have finally properly fessed up to Isabella and seem to have been given some breathing space. Also, my friends who own the café are fully engrossed in their life in Antarctica. They seem almost disinterested in Appledart, but that’s what happens when you find a new and exciting love, the fickle heart can forget how much it adored its previous lover. In the deepest, most secret recess of my heart, I hope they stay away for good - then perhaps I could buy the café? Now wouldn’t that be heavenly, although, to return to the analogy of the lovers, perhaps I want and appreciate Appledart all the more because I know I can’t have it forever. Perhaps if my dream was granted, I wouldn’t want it after a while; the chase would be gone (I’ve gone and depressed myself now).
In your last letter you seemed a little lost. Do you have a particular dream? Something you want to do in the future? Perhaps you could focus on that, and every time you feel down, bring the image of the dream back into your head and focus on your future. I know we should live for today and not for tomorrow, but sometimes, when your day-to-day is shitty (and there is no point pretending life in Iraq is anything but shitty) then it pays to focus on the future. Rosie tells me you’re in a relationship? Maybe you could focus on your future with your partner? Sorry if this advice is nonsense. I cannot begin to fully comprehend what it’s like to go to war. I’m sure you will look back and remember some happy times, like dancing with Rosie in your tent, but on the whole, it’s probably something you just get through and then move on from. Finally, don’t be deceived by Rosie’s angelic face and thousand-watt smile, she was struggling to cope until you appeared in her life. You should take great heart knowing that you have been a light-worker, conjuring up joy where Rosie had found only sadness.
Yours, Aggie
P.S. Keep away from the booze (it’s easy to turn to demon liquor at times like this).
P.P.S. Regarding the ‘two horse, one rider’ question, Ishmael and Anya ride on Jekyll together (he’s a massive shire horse so can easily take the weight). Why did you ask?
P.P.P.S. What did one saggy boob say to the other saggy boob? If we don’t get some support soon, people are going to think we’re nuts.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Bits and Bobs
Date: 4 May
Hi, Aggie
If only we did have booze to turn to (although we do still have that one bottle you sent). How are the customers? Still confessing their sins?
G
P.S. I didn’t ask about the horse for any particular reason, just nosy.
P.P.S. Did Nathan pitch up?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Bits and Bobs
Date: 5 May
Dear, Gethyn
False alarm on the Nathan front. He was a double glazing salesman. I’m afraid I have no gossip today (note to self, must try harder in café to prise juicy bits out of customers!). As the café is (relatively) expensive to reach (train, accommodation, boat transfer) my congregation tend to be a middle-class bunch and my ‘confessional over coffee’ concentrates on stereotypically middle class woes. You know – affairs, debt, murder (the usual). You’re up late again?
Ag
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Bits and Bobs
Date: 6 May
Take it from a doctor who has heard many a confessional, woes are
woes, and they usually boil down to the following issues; abandonment, control, deception, money and grief. But when you really get down to the nitty gritty of any kind of emotional angst, you may find that only word to surmise any problem is this – fear.
G
P.S. It’s only 1a.m. in Iraq. That’s early for me.
P.P.S. Any writing done? I’m waiting for the next book to come out!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Bits and Bobs
Date: 5 May
Early? I’m usually out of it by 9.30p.m.
No writing done. I seem to be listening to stories rather than writing them and finding it even more difficult to return to my novel because I’m getting so confused about people – no one seems to be as they appear, and it worries me regarding my writing. Since our communication has begun, every time I sit down to write, I’m overthinking everything. On the plus side, I’m finding taking a break from my imaginary friends quite refreshing – they’re a needy bunch!
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Bits and Bobs
Date: 6 May
Hi, Aggie
I wish I had never said anything about your books and cringe when I think of that first letter, but to be fair, do remember that I was writing for the first time to a real author, and I confess that I was trying to impress you (it’s just typical that I made a hash of it).
In terms of character, I think most of us do blunder from one page in our lives to the next, in the most part with good intentions, even if we cock up and are selfish sods along the way. We can’t ever all know each other completely (would we even want to?), so why should you know your characters’ innermost thoughts – give them some space. Most of the people I know are just ordinary folk getting on with their lives, and other than the occasional eccentric millionaire, the people in your books are just ordinary folk too, not mass-murdering psychopaths. Don’t overthink it (and yes, I know I’m going against my initial advice, but that was all a load of crap). Perhaps allow other authors to enter into the darker side of the species and stick with romance, i.e. ‘Let other pens dwell on grief and misery’ (how on Earth do I remember that quote?).
Dear Rosie Hughes Page 16
