by Clare Revell
Ezra wants another baby. He insists as I’m only 29, we could have another five easily, if not more. I don’t want anymore. We are getting along better though.
That peppermint cream tradition I started with Dorcas’s fairy party seems to have caught on. I make them for birthdays and Christmas now. Pink, green and white ones. The kids love them. If I make them stiff enough I can mould it into shapes.
We’re going to my parents in Southampton for Christmas. Sandy is coming from Scotland with her husband, Jock. They don’t have kids. Matt is married to his career. Or so it seems. He has a string of lady friends as he calls them, but no one he seems particular about, or likes enough to commit to.
Still at least we’re not spending it with Ezra’s parents. That’s a whole other story. Oh they came to my wedding and we lived there for a bit and I worked in the shop and so on. But things have always been tense. Like they never really forgave me—although I could be reading too much into it of course. Ezra says I do that a lot. They’ve never even seen them since we moved here. Never mind sent Christmas or birthday cards to them.
Honesty time. That hurts. How could you not want anything to do with your own grandchildren. Okay, they may not like me much, not getting into how that feels, but it’s not fair on the kids.
Not even sure they still live next door to my parents.
Love Connie.
PS. Skippy.
New York. 27th January 1988.
[Wedding invitation.]
Dennis and Isabel Merrick cordially invite Mr and Mrs Ezra Johnson to the wedding of their daughter Patricia to Mr Oliver S Voight on 7th May 1988. 11AM at Bethesda Chapel.
[Handwritten note from Oliver.]
Hey Connie,
If you can’t make it we totally understand, but we’d love you to be here if you can. Dad says don’t bother to get a hotel room, you can stay with him and Hayden.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Skippy.
PPS. Did you notice I asked them to write the date the British way just for you?
PPPS. We’ve been going out since September. Yes, that’s fast. But I love her and she loves me and it seems right.
Reading. 29th February 1988.
Dear Oliver,
Thank you so much for the wedding invitation. We’d love to come. Ezra can get us flights. Also please thank your Dad for the offer of a room. We’d love to take him up on it. And that’s way too much love to in one paragraph. Sorry.
And yes, it’s my turn to write on the leap year.
But you… Married… Hey, I’ll finally find out what your middle name is. No more trying to guess.
Love Connie.
PS. One last guess. Steel.
Reading. 7th April 1988.
Dear Oliver and Patricia,
Addressing this to the both of you on purpose.
I’m really sorry, but we won’t be able to make the wedding after all. I have incredibly bad morning sickness and can’t do anything. The doctor is threatening to put me in hospital if I’m not feeling better in a day or so and I could be there for weeks. In any event, he’s told me not to travel and definitely no flying.
I am so sorry. We really wanted to come. But I guess Ezra is getting his way about another baby. Paul wants a brother—specifically one called Titus. But I couldn’t do that.
Patricia, this bit is for you. I’ve known Oliver since we were kids. We write to each other a lot. We’re not hiding anything from my husband or from you. We’re friends, that’s all. Really good friends who can tell each other anything, and frequently do. But I’m married and he soon will be. So friends is all it will ever be.
Love Connie. Cos that’s how we have always signed letters. Not love, love cos well I’m married, etc.
PS. Simba – I’m trying to guess his middle name still. It’s been years – since 1971 and I still haven’t guessed.
PPS. Oliver, if Patricia wants to tell me your middle name she can.
PPPS. Will be making peppermint creams for the kids to honour your wedding.
New York. 25th May 1988.
Dear Connie and Ezra,
Thank you for the lovely gift you sent for our wedding. The tablecloth looks amazing with our dishes and the runner fits so well on the mantelpiece that Patricia has decided it can stay there. She wants to add something.
Oliver explained about you and the letters soon after he began courting me, Connie. I have no problem with your continuing friendship.
Love Oliver and Patricia.
PS. He says not Steel or Simba.
PPS. He also says no I can’t tell you, you have to guess.
PPPS. Congrats on the baby. When is he/she due?
Reading. 10th July 1988.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy birthday.
Your first as a married man! Hope she spoils you rotten as you deserve it.
Love Connie.
PS. Baby is due the end of November.
New York. 11th July 1988.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Many happy returns on this your 30th birthday. Note the huge red numbers and arrows surrounding the 30 as you are now OLD!
Love Oliver.
New York. 8th August 1988.
[Postcard of Manhattan.]
Dear Connie,
8/8/88!!
Love Oliver.
PS. That one works both ways.
Reading. 27th August 1988.
Dear Oliver,
Thank you for the beautiful flowers you sent for my birthday. They lasted a whole two weeks!
So after last Christmas when we all went to my parents, the plan was for us all to go to Sandy’s in Lockerbie this year. But now I’m really not sure. Ezra says we can still go. But really? He wants to travel several hundred miles with four kids aged 13, 10. 8 and 4 weeks? That’s if the baby comes on time.
Maybe we’ll give it a miss. I don’t know. I might suggest we all go to Mum and Dad’s again and to Sandy’s next year. Okay, it only takes an hour to drive to Southampton from here, but it beats a ten hour drive or a taxi/flight/hire car and I really don’t fancy that with a new-born.
Love Connie.
PS. Sixtus.
PPS. We can hear Reading Rock Festival from the house!
New York. 5th December 1988.
Dear Connie,
Haven’t heard from you about the baby yet. Praying everything is okay.
I know you said marriage was tough, but boy you weren’t kidding.
I squeeze the toothpaste wrong—who knew the middle was the wrong place! I leave the loo seat up. The list is endless.
Love Oliver.
PS. No. Not Sixtus.
Reading. 7th December 1988.
[Birth announcement.]
Ezra and Connie Johnson are pleased to announce the safe (albeit rather late) arrival
Of: Micah Titus Johnson
On: 4th December 1988
At: 2.36am
Weight: 7lb 12oz
[Christmas card and handwritten included.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy Christmas!
That was a really rough delivery. Everything went massively wrong and I ended up with an emergency C section and hysterectomy. I’m in hospital for at least ten days. So there’ll be no Christmas in Scotland for us. Everyone else is going up on either the 20th or 22nd.
Love Connie.
PS. Schrodinger.
PPS. The kids asked if the baby could be called Titus. So that’s his middle name.
PPPS. And no more babies. I’m pleased. Ezra less so.
New York. 20th December 1988.
[Christmas card.]
Oh, Connie, you make me laugh. No, not Schrodinger. That’s the cat’s name. Well, one of them. We have two. One called Schrodinger and one called Astrophe. (As in cat-astrophe.) Praying you recover soon and can enjoy Christmas at home with your growing family.
Love, Oliver, Patricia, and Bump. Yes mini-Voight is due in
the summer.
PPS. Yes, if it’s a boy he will also have the S name.
PPPS. No, it won’t be on the birth announcement. He won’t tell either.
New York. 21st December 1988.
[Telegram to Connie Johnson from Oliver Voight.]
connie stop just seen the news stop have you heard from your sister stop love oliver stop
Reading. 24th December 1988.
[Telegram from Connie Johnson to Oliver Voight.]
sandy killed stop jock and my parents injured stop matt hadn’t arrived yet stop he’s there now and keeping me informed as i’m not well enough to travel stop will write later stop love connie stop.
Reading. 15th February 1989.
Dear Oliver,
Thank you so much for the card and lovely letter you sent after Sandy died. I know you say God doesn’t have it in for me, but it sure feels like it right now. Mum and Dad finally got home at the beginning of the month.
Matt doesn’t say much about what he saw in Lockerbie, but the TV pictures are harrowing enough. I can’t begin to imagine what it was really like. He’s probably told you more than me when he wrote after Christmas. It’s nice you both write to each other periodically.
There was another plane crash in January. They think that one was pilot error, but for a while we all feared it was another terrorist attack.
I worry every time Ezra flies now. He assures me it’s safe, but two disasters in a couple of weeks means I’m not convinced anymore. I wish he’d do something else. He also assures me the new security measures mean he can’t get hijacked again. And that luggage can’t fly alone.
Love Connie.
PS. Spike.
PPS. Thank you for the bear you sent Micah. Dorcas has named him Hammy—the bear that is, not the baby. She thinks the whole baby thing is ewwww and I’m too old. Can you tell she’s a teenager? I don’t think 30 is old, despite the fact most days I feel like 42.
New York. 15th March 1989.
Dear Connie,
It’s not a teen thing, it’s because you’re her mother. And it’s not the baby you’re too old for—it’s the making of the baby. Not sure I want to think of Dad and Hayley like that, but Vicky’s living proof they did it. Hah—so am I! Next time she complains ask her where she thinks she came from?
The joy of things to come for Patricia and me, I guess. The pregnancy is going well. She was hardly sick at all. I can hear you saying how unfair that is from here!
I had a letter from Matt. He wants to come and visit when the football season is over. Shame you can’t come as well, but I guess you’re still recovering or feeding. Hopefully another time.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Spike.
New York. 4th June 1989.
Dear Connie,
Oliver and Patricia Voight are pleased to announce the arrival of:
Anthony S Shepherd Voight, 1.25pm, 5lb 15oz
And
Abigail Star Voight, 1.30pm, 4lb 3oz
On: 4th June 1989
Love Oliver.
PS. No. Neither of those names before you suggest them. It’s the other S. All well here. A C-section because that’s the norm for twins evidently.
Reading. 29th June 1989.
Dear Oliver,
About time I had to buy teddy bears. Congratulations. Twins! Fun but hard work. Mind you, all babies are. Micah still isn’t sleeping through the night. And with Ezra away so much of the time I’m cream crackered—slang for exhausted. Daren’t say the word it actually rhymes with as it probably means something else in US English!
At least Dorcas helps a little when she feels like it. Plus all the kids are at school all day for now so I can doze when the baby sleeps. If he does. No, make that IF he does!
Love Connie.
PS. Sparrow.
Reading. 7th July 1989.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Have a great birthday.
Love Connie.
PS. Hope the twins remember to send you a card with Daddy on it.
New York. 8th July 1989.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy birthday.
Love Oliver.
New York. 31st August 1989.
Dear Connie,
Need sleep. Whatever that is. Not sure I remember either.
I’ve been offered a pastoral position in a tiny town called Breckenridge. Population 2,500, a ski resort, lots of gold rush history. It’s in Colorado.
I start on 30th September. There is a house that comes with the job, so even if we don’t sell ours it’s not a big deal yet. The house has four bedrooms, den, lounge, kitchen, utility room, and a yard for the kids to play in when they’re older. I could build a tire swing and a tree house.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not sparrow or starling or seagull or stork or any other bird beginning with S before you try them. Seriously? All these years and you can’t figure it out.
PPS. I know it’s tyre not tire in UK English. I’m making a pun out of it. As I’m tired…
Reading. 10th December 1989.
[Christmas card]
Dear Oliver,
Have a wonderful if not slightly manic Christmas.
Love Connie.
PS. I only said manic because it’s already that here.
Breckenridge. 11th December 1989.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Another year over. Happy Christmas.
Love Oliver.
Chapter Five
Breckenridge. 12th July 1990.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy birthday!
Love Oliver.
PS. I can see why it’s long gaps between letters at times. It’s bad enough with two kids How do you manage four?
Reading. 14th July 1990.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Have a great day. Hope the twins remember again this year. My kids always do.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 5th December 1990.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Another year has whizzed past. Happy Christmas.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 16th December 1990.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Yes, I find the older I get, the faster time flies and the less I look forward to a really busy time of year. Full of shopping and cooking and over excited kids.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 4th July 1991.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy birthday.
Hayley is pregnant again. Dad’s new family is growing.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 10th July 1991.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy birthday.
Love Connie.
PS. If I remember I shall write to you on 1st September as the date then will be 1/9/1991 but no doubt I will forget.
Breckenridge. 10th December 1991.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Yup, you forgot. Besides here the date was 9/1/1991. Please note I still write my letters the British way as far as the dates go. And yes, I know you’d insist that 9/1 is 9th January not 1st September.
Dad and Hayley had a baby in October. They called him David. So I’m a big brother again.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 18th December 1991.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Another year’s almost gone. I was trying to keep all the letters you sent, but Micah got into the box and drew all over them, as three-year-olds do I suppose.
Thank you for the card. Congrats on being an uncle again. So you have a little brother as well as a younger sister. The family you always wanted and never had until you’re too old to enjoy them.
Well I don’t know about younger brothers, but older ones are a
right pain at times. But it is funny to think that your twins will be older than their Uncle David.
Dorcas has a boyfriend now. She’s 16, thinks she knows everything. Bit like I did at her age I guess.
Oh, wow, just remembered what I was up to at her age. I hope she has more sense than me.
Ezra is still flying, but he’s thinking about becoming a private pilot instead. That way he can chose his routes and hours, but honestly, I think he just likes the admiration that comes with his present position.
Are you enjoying the provincial life in Breckenridge? I know it’s not what you wanted long term, but it’s a job, right?
Love Connie.
PS. Sharkey.
Breckenridge. 20th February 1992.
Dear Connie,
Yes, we’re still enjoying Breckenridge. Well I am. Patricia struggles I think. She’s more of a city girl than a small town girl, but she’s adapted pretty well. The twins are growing into cute small folk. They like being dressed in the same colour and Anthony insists on his hair being long and wavy like Abigail’s. So trying to get it cut is a nightmare. Patricia said to leave it until he starts kindergarten as the other kids will tease him into it, but we’ll see. She makes all their outfits and always put frills on Abigail’s dungarees so we can tell them apart.
Abigail, despite being a tom boy, likes being called Abi. Anthony on the other hand won’t answer to Ant or Tony or anything but his full name. I can tell he’s going to be a handful.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Sharkey or Shaky. I couldn’t read your writing at that point. I must be getting old.
Reading. 29th February 1992.
[Postcard of Forbury Gardens.]
Just because.
Love Connie.
PS. Old??? Hah. You’re only 37. That is so not old.
PPS. Soren.
Breckenridge. 24th March 1992.
[Postcard of the Rocky Mountains.]
Dear Connie,
Ha-ha. No.
Love Oliver.
