by Clare Revell
Your mum is right about one thing. If you want to be a nurse, you need good grades in your exams. See, I don’t know what I want to do. Just that certain things no longer matter. I can go to college later.
Oh, did you know that here, you have to graduate ALL your classes, EVERY year or you don’t go up into the next year group? Unlike in England where you automatically go up each September. So missing a year or whatever isn’t going to make any difference. Never mind the fact I have no idea what I want to major in yet.
So long as I don’t have to play their idea of football or baseball or whatever.
I was originally going to join the Royal Navy, but living here makes that hard and I don’t qualify for the US Navy on account of not being an American. (Yes, I know I’m half American, but as far as I’m concerned that doesn’t count.) So that leaves me stumped.
Just be careful with Ezra. How much do you really know about him? Other than the fact he’s older than you and lives next door?
Oh and happy Easter.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Steve.
PPS. Not tired of you and your letters. Keep them coming.
Southampton. 27th May 1974.
Dear Oliver,
Ezra is just so… wonderful, cute, amazing. And so nice. He does that arm behind the seat thing in the cinema every time we go and he holds my hand in the dark on the way to the bus stop afterwards. Mum doesn’t want him hanging around—I think she’s guessed we’re going out—so he calls for Matt and we all go out and play football or we play a game in the lounge. Sometimes we all go to his place next door and play monopoly with his parents.
His brothers are so competitive. Apart from Amos, but he’s barely 12 and hates anything that doesn’t involve a ball. Actually you’d probably get on well with him because he loves cricket. He can name every single England team member and how many runs they got in every single test match for the last five years.
Exams are going okay. Had Home Economics today. We had to cook a three course meal. We had to plan our menus, lay a table correctly and everything. Mrs Flynn didn’t get why I picked stuff to cook that we hadn’t made in class. I chose stuff I liked. Just cos she hadn’t taught us how to cook it, doesn’t mean I can’t make it. So I cooked melon boats, with orange and cherry sails. Okay, technically that’s not cooking, but I get to use a really sharp knife. Main course was Irish Stew with all the stuff I like in it, and pudding was spotted dick and custard.
Though of course that probably means something totally different to you! In case you’ve forgotten, its suet sponge with currants in.
I also made peppermint creams and put them in a little silver dish on the table. Didn’t need to, but Nanna taught me how to make them and they are so yummy. Mrs Flynn frowned at me disapprovingly when I made them. Even though they were on the menu.
But I did get a nod and a smile when she tried one later before the examiners came in.
I suppose I ought to go and revise geography now. And maths. Cos as much as I hate maths, you need it. Oh and I am so going to put Jesus as the answer to every question I don’t know. Purely because Matt dared me to.
Love Connie.
PS. Sam.
Southampton. 5th July 1974.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
For some reason I keep wanting to write the date as 1794. No idea why. Anyway, happy birthday!
Love Connie.
New York. 10th July 1974.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Sorry I haven’t written for a while. It’s been chaotic here. I found a job. I’m working in the grocery store across the road from us. I’m packing shelves, sweeping floors, serving on the cash register and making milk-shakes. The owner, Mr Thornton, is nice enough. I’m not far away as you can see our house from the store front.
Happy Birthday! I hadn’t forgotten we share the same one. Can’t believe I’m 19. It doesn’t feel any different from being 18 if I’m honest.
Not doing anything today. I have work in a bit when Dad gets home. Until then I shall sit and read to Mum. She likes the Psalms being read. And the story of Ruth.
Love Oliver.
PS. No, not Sam.
Southampton. 20th July 1974.
Dear Oliver,
Hippo birdie two ewes
Hippo birdie two ewes
Hippo birdie deer ewe
Hippo birdie two ewes
HAHA. I was going to draw lots of hippos and birds and sheep and deer, but I can’t draw for toffee and I wasn’t sure you’d work out the joke.
Oh speaking of toffee, Nanna is going to teach me to make toffee at the weekend. I love toffee. So does Ezra. I can give him some once I know how to do it. He loves my peppermint creams too.
I love the fact you and I share the same birthday.
I’m 16 now! Feels so old.
How’s your mum?
Oh and Matt has a trial for the Saints. Ezra didn’t, but he doesn’t care. He wants to be a pilot not a footballer. Told him footballers earn more’ but he doesn’t care. Yes I know that’s but he doesn’t care twice in the one paragraph, but guess what? I don’t care.
He has an RAF interview in September. If he doesn’t get in he’s going to go for a commercial airline job.
Love Connie.
PS. Sinclair.
New York. 22nd July 1974.
[Telegram to Connie Falcon.]
Mum died last night stop my heart is broken stop Oliver stop
Southampton. 23rd July 1974.
[Telegram to Oliver Voight.]
Oliver so so sorry stop all send their love stop wish we were closer stop Connie stop
Southampton. 23rd July 1974.
[Sympathy card to Oliver Voight.]
Dear Oliver,
Thinking of you at this time. Your mum is in a far better place now—she’s with Jesus. And that’s a good thing. You’ll see her again someday as she’s waiting for you. Please give the enclosed card to your dad from my parents.
Love Connie.
New York. 30th July 1974.
Dear Connie,
It has taken me over an hour just to write the date and your name. I’m not sure what I feel anymore. Except alone. I’ve never seen Dad cry before. He tries to hide it, but I hear him in his room at night. He’s angry too. He yells at God, blaming him for taking Mum. Blaming the doctors for not saving her. Blaming himself for leaving England and coming here. She didn’t want to come.
I didn’t know that. She never once said anything to me about not liking it here or wanting to be back home.
I’m not angry with God. Yes, I miss Mum, but she’d been so sick for so long that she’s at peace now and that’s a good thing.
It isn’t long now until you get your results. You’ll have to tell me what you get. Along with where you’ll be come September. Which college you’ll be in and what you’ll be doing. I am living through you right now.
Thanks for the card.
How’s Ezra? And what’s this about Matt having a trial for the Saints?
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Sinclair.
Southampton. 27th September 1974.
Dear Oliver,
I have so much to tell you, I’m going to have to write really small to fit it all into one letter. Ezra’s great. We still have to see each other on the sly, but that’s fine. We manage. He didn’t get the RAF job—something to do with his fitness which is crazy. But anyway, he’s trying for one of the major airlines instead now.
I’m studying nursery nursing. It’s better than nursing or teaching because I can combine both. I can work in a hospital or a school or even nanny when I’m qualified.
The course is at a posh nursery training college in Reading. They provide nannies for royalty! And we have celebrity kids attending the day nurseries here. Of course we can’t say who or take photos or ask for autographs as that’s not professional. It’s a boarding college, but I go home every other weekend. Some girls stay all
term (we have two Americans in my year), but it’s only an hour or so on the train so doable in a weekend. Other girls just come for the day like a normal school.
We have a massive dining room. The staff table is oval and literally in the bay window which is so neat. They eat lunch there as they don’t live on site. Well the head of the college does. She has a house on the grounds with her own garden. There are shops a ten minute walk away and the college is set in lovely grounds with lots of trees.
It’s a two year course. We spend a week in class and then a week in placement. Either in the day nurseries on site, or in a school or hospital or with a family. There are eight nursery rooms on site and take children from six weeks to five years. There is a separate nursery school too. That takes kids from the day care as well as the local community.
As well as doing childcare, we have lessons in health, development, drama, music (I am learning to play the guitar), woodwork, and sewing. At some point we’ll learn swimming as well.
And Matt. Yes, he had a trial for Saints and is now playing for the reserve team most weeks. He’s played ten games and scored seven goals. He’s hoping to make the first team soon.
Better go as break is over and I’m due back in class. You can write me at home, as it’d be easier to pick up than here.
Love Connie.
PS. Stanley.
New York. 29th October 1974.
Dear Connie,
Nope. Not Stanley. Not much is happening here. It’s almost Halloween again, which seems to get bigger each year. Rather like Christmas.
Oh you should see the way people decorate the entire outside of houses for that.
I’m still working at the store. But I’ve been spending a lot of time talking to Pastor Kenny from church about maybe going to Bible College. It’d combine studying theology with learning how to preach.
I took a Bible study at youth group one week and Pastor Kenny was there. He was impressed and said I had a gift. There’s a good college in Florida so he says.
Dad was so mad at God when Mum died and all I wanted to do was help him through but struggling with my own stuff I didn’t know what to say. Pastor Kenny had the answers though. So maybe if I become a pastor I can help others.
What do you think?
Love Oliver.
Southampton. 5th November 1974.
[Postcard of Nursery Training College.]
Dear Oliver,
This is a postcard of the college I’m at.
Bonfire Night. Guess you don’t have that in the US. We’re having a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and jacket spuds. Oh and fireworks. Such a treat.
And yes. Do it!
Love Connie.
PS. Spock.
New York. 20th November 1974.
[Postcard of the World Trade Centre.]
Dear Connie,
I can do postcards too. This is the World Trade Centre. The twin towers are taller than the Empire State. Still haven’t been up it yet.
Not Spock. Oh that one made me laugh. Hey, did you know that live long and prosper is in the Bible? Deuteronomy 5v33b. I have an interview in Orlando next week. Dad and I are driving down to Florida. Road trip!
Love Oliver.
New York. 1st December 1974.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Not going to be much of a Christmas this year. But sending cards anyway.
Love Oliver.
Southampton. 1st December 1974.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Thinking of you and your dad this year especially.
Love Connie.
Southampton. 2nd December 1974.
Dear Oliver,
Something’s happened. Or rather something hasn’t happened and I think I’m in trouble. I don’t know what to do. My life is over.
Love Connie.
New York. 10th December 1974.
Dear Connie,
That sounds dramatic. Things can’t be that bad. You have me worried. Write and tell me what’s got you so worked up. Is it Ezra? Has he broken things off?
Think the letters and cards must have crossed in the post. That happens a lot.
I got the place at the Bible School. I start at Florida Bible College in Florida (funny that, eh?) after Christmas. I’ll be a term behind, but it won’t take me long to catch up. I’ll give you the address in Orlando as soon as I have it. You can write to both places, but I’ll only be back in New York for the holidays.
I don’t like to leave Dad alone, but he wants me to go. He also says Mum wouldn’t want me to sit inside and cry all the time, but to keep going and make something of my life.
Love Oliver.
Southampton. 24th December 24 1974.
Dear Oliver,
Ezra and I are getting married in the New Year at the registry office. Mum is furious as I’ve had to give up college. I didn’t exactly get thrown out of the course, but near enough. I was asked to leave. I keep being told it’s a waste of their money putting me through a term of a course I’ll never complete.
Dad chucked me out of the house, so I’m living with Ezra and his family next door for now. Until we get a place of our own that is.
It’s not fair. It was only once…we just got carried away, and now he’s a stud, and I’m a word I’m not allowed to repeat. A disgrace is what polite society calls it. No one is being invited to the wedding ’cept close family, but I’ll send you an invitation. You can put it on a dart board and throw sharp pointy projectiles at it.
Not sure why we can’t just be honest with people. They’ll figure it out soon enough anyway. I’m equally surprised I’m not being sent to stay with Auntie Doris in the country for the next few months!
Love Connie, Ezra, and Bump.
Chapter Three
Orlando. 1st January 1975.
Dear Connie,
Happy New Year. Seems strange sending this to my old address. Really hope you get things sorted with your folks soon. Dad asked what was bothering me, thinking it was just me missing Mum, so I told him the truth. Said you were having family issues but didn’t say what. Anyway, we’re praying for you all every meal time now.
But yes, I miss Mum. Every day. It wasn’t Christmas without her singing and making cookies. Or putting up the tree right after Thanksgiving.
Love Oliver.
Southampton. 7th January 1975.
[Wedding invitation.]
Connie and Ezra request the pleasure of the company of Oliver Voight at their marriage
On: 18th January 1975
Time: 11am
Where: Southampton Registry Office. Coffee, drinks and cake afterwards in the back room of the Hop Inn, Oak Tree Road.
PS. I know you can’t come because of college and so on, but wanted you to have one anyway.
PPS. Scottie.
Orlando. 18th January 1975.
Hey Connie,
Its 6am here, so about now you’re walking down that aisle to marry Ezra. I know it’s not the start you wanted, but I pray that God will guide your feet on the path He is setting before you. May He bless your union, shine His light upon the two of you and give you both peace.
Don’t forget to give me your married name. Oh, and warn Ezra about this mad alien person who writes to you several times a year. I don’t want to upset him or have him get jealous for no good reason.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Scottie. Or Scotty. Or Scott.
Southampton. 26th February 1975.
Dear Oliver,
Married life is interesting. Wish we had our own place, but at least we now share a room. Before the wedding, I slept in Ezra’s room and he slept on the couch in the lounge. Least I’m not sick anymore. They don’t warn you about that in those stupid horizons lessons we had. You know the ones about ‘growing up’ and becoming a woman and so on. Maybe they should have actually told us the truth rather than hedging the embarrassing issue.
Ezra’s parents want me to call them Mum and Dad. But tha
t doesn’t seem right. So for now, I’m sticking to Solomon and Esther, but even that seems wrong as they’ve been Mr and Mrs J for so long. Maybe I’ll ask if I can call them that, but I doubt it.
I guess I’m Mrs J now too.
My parents came to the wedding, but didn’t speak to me. They only came because Matt insisted and Sandy (gotta love kid sisters sometimes) threw a tantrum. Something she’s particularly good at in order to get her own way.
The baby is due in June.
We had a bit of snow last week. Not enough to build a snowman, but a little bit.
Did I tell you that Ezra’s parents own and run the corner shop now? They sell everything you could want and I work behind the counter. Probably why Mum and Dad don’t approve.
I’ll have to ask Ezra if they rent out the flat above the shop and if we can live there if they don’t. Ezra works there too, but he still wants to be a pilot. His parents want him in the shop full time, but he doesn’t want that and they argue frequently. Maybe if I work more hours, they’d let him go to flying school or something. Worth asking at any rate.
Better go. Being glared at for being unsociable.
Love Mrs Connie Johnson.
PS. Boy that sounds so weird and grown up and nothing like me at all.
PPS. Ezra says hi and it’s fine if you write as you’re almost family.
PPPS. Saxon.
PPPPS. Bump waves to Uncle Oliver.
Orlando. 28th April 1975.
Dear Connie,
Where are you finding all these names? No. Not Saxon. Maybe you were thinking Anglo Saxon. I really do pity your kid and he/she isn’t even born yet because it’ll end up with a ridiculous name. Probably beginning with S.
I’m really enjoying the course here. We have to study Greek which is, shall we say, interesting. I’m caught up on the term/semester I missed. I studied really hard.
It’s funny. It’s the same language supposedly, but it’s not. And I don’t just mean the spellings and lack of the letter U.
