by Clare Revell
Micah does love having his father back home. Ezra wants us to go away over the February half term break as a family, but we’ll see. I’m not letting him take Micah on his own. I might never get him back.
Love Connie.
PS. Sondheim.
New York. 5th December 1999.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
So here’s the last card of the millennium. Happy Christmas and Happy New Year.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Sondheim.
Reading. 12th December 1999.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
This is the last letter I shall send you—
At least the last one this century, this millennium. Here’s to another 1000 years of trying to work out what your name is!
Love Connie.
PS. Spartacus.
Chapter Eight
New York. 1st January 2000.
Dear Connie,
Patricia asked me why I continue to write, when I could email instead. There is just something about emailing that leaves me cold. I love your letters. The coloured paper, coloured pens, the stickers, especially the Christmas ones. I love the Bible verses. Where do you get them?
Anyway, my computer does still work, so this Y2K bug they were so worried about wasn’t a disaster. I go back to work tomorrow. Well, the office work. I was preaching all over Christmas as usual.
PS. No. Not Spartacus. Or Sparta.
Reading. 19th February 2000.
[Wedding invitation.]
Mr and Mrs W Atkins request the pleasure of the company of Mr and Mrs O Voight
At: the marriage of their daughter Jemma to Mr Paul Johnson
On: 1st April 2000
At: 2pm. St Martin’s Church, London.
[Handwritten note from Connie.]
I’ll send photos.
PS. Spurgeon. And you have to agree that’s a really good guess.
PPS. Not an April fool. He really is getting married on 1st April.
PPPS. My birthday this year is cancelled. I refuse to get any older.
New York. 10th June 2000.
Dear Connie,
The photos are lovely. Thank you. So that’s three of your children married now. And I guess Micah is off to secondary school come September. Is he looking forward to it?
How are you and Ezra these days?
Patricia sends her love and the twins say hi.
Love Oliver.
PS. Hah. I wish. Sadly, not Spurgeon.
New York. 5th July 2000.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy unbirthday.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 13th July 2000.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy Birthday.
Love Connie.
New York. 2nd December 2000.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Have a great Christmas. This is a photo of the outside of our house. Patricia loves the lights and adds to them every single year. It takes a week to put them all up now!
Love Oliver.
Reading. 15th December 2000.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Another year and another load of wrong answers. I might run out of names before I actually guess the right one. No doubt you and Patricia find this hilarious.
This Christmas it will just be me, Ezra, and Micah. Micah loves secondary school. His fave lesson so far is metalwork. He made a gorgeous candleholder which will have pride of place on the table on Christmas Day. Right now it’s sitting on the mantelpiece with the advent candle in. I’ve enclosed one with this parcel for you for next year. You light it each day in December and burn it to the next mark.
Love Connie.
PS. Spencer.
PPS. I love all the lights on your house. I got Ezra to put some up on ours. He wasn’t best pleased but did it anyway. He says they can stay up all year, but I mustn’t put them on after 12th night.
New York. 1st January 2001.
Dear Connie,
Guess what. 01/01/01!!
Yes. I’ve taken to leaving the lights up on the roof, to save having to climb the ladder each year. The ones in the outside trees also stay put, but the others come down.
Patricia and I finally got to the top of the World Trade Centre the week before Christmas. Photo of us up there enclosed. The twins loved it. Anthony decided he wants to be an accountant so he can work in the building and have that view all day long. Abi wants to be a chair leg (because they are sturdy and supportive she says) or a cheerleader. Or both.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Spencer.
Reading. 1st May 2001.
[Email from Paul Johnson to Oliver Voight.]
Dear Uncle Oliver,
Just a short note to let you know Dad died very suddenly yesterday. He was flying Heathrow to JFK and had a heart attack shortly after take-off. The first officer landed the plane back at Heathrow, but there was nothing anyone could do. There was a doctor on board who did CPR until the plane landed and the medics got there.
They think it was fast and he wouldn’t have known anything much.
Mum hasn’t said much, but I know she’d value a phone call if you can. I don’t think she knows how to feel. She and Dad weren’t getting along, hadn’t been for years.
From Paul.
New York. 1st May 2001.
Dear Connie,
I am so sorry to hear about Ezra. Like I said on the phone this afternoon, if there is anything I can do, let me know. It was so good to hear your voice. I do understand a little of what you’re going through but I’m not going to offer platitudes as you don’t need it. I will give you a couple of verses and leave it at that. Psalm 34:18 The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. And Psalm 147:3 He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 1st July 2001.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Not having a birthday this year, but you are. So hippo birdie two ewes. See I actually drew them this time.
Love Connie.
PS. Saul.
PPS. This may sound horrible, but I’m relieved he’s dead. There. I said it. I took my ring off the day of the funeral and gave it to a goldsmith to be melted down.
New York. 12th July 2001.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy unbirthday to the sweetest friend I know!
Love Oliver.
New York. 1st September 2001.
Dear Connie,
Long time, no letter. I keep meaning to write, get as far as Dear Connie, then have no idea what to say. So Patricia suggested I just go back to rambling nonsense as I always do.
Not sure if she’s being rude or just teasing.
And totally understandable about being relieved. Honestly the guy treated you horrendously and didn’t deserve you. You ought to get a sainthood for putting up with the idiot as long as you did.
Anyway. I have a mission breakfast in ten days’ time at the WTC restaurant. It should be good. We’re meeting at 8.30am in the lobby of the WTC and aiming to get to the restaurant for 8.45. Will send you photos of the view. Lots happening here mission wise, so it should be good.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 11th September 2001.
Dear Oliver,
Dorcas had a baby early this morning. Philip Jethro, 10lb 2oz. Nope, not a misspelling—he really did weigh that much! I’m heading to York in a bit. Paul and Jemma are coming to stay to look after Micah as he has school. University doesn’t start back until October. I’m sat watching the end of Neighbours. Then it’s Diagnosis Murder starring Dick Van Dyke. I do enjoy watching that and seeing if I can work out who did it before he does.
Oh. It’s not on. It’s a newsflash. I wonder what———————
Reading. 11th September 2001.
[Email from Paul Johnson to Oliver Voight. Cc to Patricia Voight. 3pm UK time.]
Dear Uncle Oliver and Auntie Patricia,
Mum is panicking here. Are you all right? She said you should be in the towers about now. Please call or email me as soon as you can or call her landline. She’s not going to York until tomorrow as they are keeping Dorcas in overnight.
Love Paul.
Chapter Nine
New York 11th September 2001.
[Email from Oliver Voight to Paul Johnson. 12:30 local time.]
Hi Paul,
Tell your mum I’m fine. We all are. My car wouldn’t start this morning and rather than rush to get there by cab, I rang everyone who was attending the breakfast and they came to the house and we ate here instead. Breakfast wasn’t as fancy, just toast and eggs, but we’re all safe.
We saw it happen from the back yard. I’m still reeling from the shock. We all are.
I’ll call your mum tonight my time, hopefully not too late your time.
Love Uncle Oliver.
Reading. 12th September 2001.
[Continues on previous letter.]
Seems I wrote that a lifetime ago. The world changed so much less than twenty-four hours ago. I knew you’d be there and I thought the worst. I can’t lose you too. You are the one thing I have left that is mine and not part of something else.
Thank you for calling albeit briefly last night. It meant a lot.
Your letters brighten my day. Even the short ones that don’t say much. So glad you’re safe.
Love Connie.
PS. St John pronounced Sin-gin.
PPS. Figured I’d tell you that as it’s one of the strange UK names that is pronounced the opposite way from how it looks. Like Mainwaring (Mannering) and Beauchamp (Beeching).
New York. 12th December 2001.
[Christmas card.]
Happy Christmas Connie.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 14th December 2001.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Only sending one card this year. To you. Apart from the kids. They’re getting them.
Love Connie.
New York. 12th July 2002.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy unbirthday Birthday as I assume you cancelled it again this year.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 17th July 2002.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy Birthday!
Love Connie.
Denver. 1st December 2002.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Temporary address. Send everything care of the mission office here. Long story, but we’re all fine.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 12th December 2002.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Sounds mysterious. I love a good story.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 29th March 2003.
Dear Connie,
Really long time, no letter. Apart from birthday and Christmas cards without any guesses from you which was unusual. Yeah things did get stupid busy in New York for a while.
But as you can see, we moved back to Breckenridge. Long story.
The short story, however, is this. Remember that house and land? Well I own it now.
Too short a story? Okay, you can have the long version.
Patricia didn’t feel comfortable in New York, especially living where we could see, or rather not see the twin towers. The plane crash in Queen’s convinced her we needed to get out. So she and the twins moved back to Breckenridge during the spring of last year. I worked from there as much as possible. Fortunately the mission society had an office in Denver I could work out of. They’ve been forwarding mail for me.
I’d been thinking about opening a Bible School somewhere in the Midwest and this plot of land and the house came on the market. So I arranged several investors, put most of the money from the sale of our home in New York into it as well. The mission society is going to partner me with it.
I’ll send photos as the building work goes along. It needs renovating and modifying for our needs.
How are you doing, my friend? We think of you and pray for you each day.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not St John. Or Sin-gin.
Reading. 5th June 2003.
Dear Oliver,
I should be used to being alone, doing things by myself, but I’m not. The house is so empty now. Micah is still here and he has friends over, but it’s not the same. I’m thinking of moving once he finishes school and goes to university or whatever he wants to do. It’s not like anyone comes and stays so I don’t need a huge house. Or anyone visits. I have to go to them.
They all have their own very busy lives. Paul is a doctor in Durham now. He works in a busy paediatric department. Jemma is expecting a baby in the autumn.
Zipporah had a baby early this morning. They called her Sapphira. I’m going to visit next week. She and Jason live in Cornwall now. It’s a bit of a trek by train, having to change three times, but I manage. There’s no point learning to drive at my age.
Love Connie.
PS. Stavros.
Reading. 6th July 2003.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy birthday. For once the sun is shining.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 15th July 2003.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy birthday! Yes I said it.
Love Oliver.
Breckenridge. 2nd September 2003.
Dear Connie,
My life consists of builders, workmen, and paperwork. Fortunately Patricia is really good at organising them. If they don’t do what she says, she simply forgets how the electric wheelchair works and refuses to move until they do it.
I had the kitchen in our house adapted for her. The counters and stove top move up and down at the touch of a button so she can cook and so on.
I haven’t heard anything from Matt lately. How’s he doing?
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Stavros.
Reading. 2nd October 2003.
Dear Oliver,
Paul has a son. Born yesterday, they called him Peter, 7lb, 10oz.
Sometimes I wish I did drive, but lessons are expensive. Never mind the road tax and insurance and I’m an old woman now. Grey hair to prove it.
Matt is still in football. He manages Blyth Athletic. A small club in the lower leagues, but they finished top last season, so they’re doing okay.
Other than that, things are the same as ever.
Love Connie.
PS. Stewart and I can’t believe I never guessed that one before.
Reading. 3rd December 2003.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Another year over… No it’s okay, I shan’t sing!
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 7th December 2003.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy Christmas.
Love Oliver.
PS. Did you get any lights up this year?
PPS. Not Stewart. I have a list of your guesses and no, you haven’t tried that one before.
Reading. 3rd July 2004.
[Birthday card.]
Happy Birthday Oliver. May it be a great day!
Love Connie.
PS. Yes, this is once again the last card I shall ever send you... in your 40’s!
Breckenridge. 6th July 2004.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy unbirthday. At least I figure you’re not celebrating as you never do.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 7th December 2004.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Thinking of you especially at this festive time of year.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 8th De
cember 2004.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Have a great Christmas.
Love Oliver.
PS. I ought to be used to the ‘last letter/card’ joke of yours by now, but I’m not. Still makes me laugh.
Breckenridge. 1st March 2005.
Dear Connie,
Remember the saying March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? Well, it certainly did. A massive storm system hit the town. We have no power and might not have for several days. So we’re pretending we’re pioneers with our torches and oil lamps and paraffin heaters.
The twins however hate it. The computer doesn’t work. The batteries on their personal stereos might die. And at 14, that’s the end of the world. Hmmm, when I was 14 a computer filled a room, the personal stereo didn’t exist, we had a radiogram, and the phone was a call box at the end of the road.
They think writing letters is quaint. Email is so much faster. I use the computer for work, sermon prep, email, and so on. But I like writing letters to you.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 10th May 2005.
Dear Oliver,
Zipporah had a baby last night. They’ve called him Moses, which I think is appropriate given the Biblical connection, even if it isn’t quite right. Dorcas also gave birth yesterday. (Babies being born ten minutes apart! How’s that for timing?) They’ve called him Ezra. Both babies weighed 5lb 8oz.
So Dorcas has three, Paul has one, Zipporah has two. And I have six grandkids.
When school is finished, I’m moving to York to be closer to the kids. It’ll be nice in a way.
Durham, where Paul is, is only half an hour away from York. Zipporah and Jason are moving to Leeds. He’s going to be deputy head of a school there. That’s only forty minutes away.
Micah likes the college in York. He’s applied to do photography and A levels as he wants to be a photo journalist. So in two years’ time he’s hoping to do journalism at university.
Love Connie.
