1021 Docks Operating Coy., R.E. C.M.F.
Dearest, Postie has come over generous and has brought a shower of letters, early April ones, three up to the 8th. and one leap-frogged one of March 22-24. So I’ve had a grand time. All splendid of course, and very touching about that Richard of ours who knows my picture and says Dad–eee to it, which is very shaking and very kind of him. If we go on like this I’ll be found saying “Dick—eee” to his picture over my bed and then I’ll get sent home mental. Jolly good about the teeth. He is getting on, and holding hands with young females on the hearth-rug. I know. Ah well, Time marches on. Thanks to your brilliant gifts of observation, understanding and description I am getting as near to knowing this baby as is possible without being there. No other father in exile is so fortunately placed as I am.
Do I know Martin Spencer? Is it a baby or a little boy or a toddler? I’m not certain, it sounds unpleasant. I once dropped the Gilding five year old little girl out of a sports car the same way, she was holding on to the door opening strap, I took a bend and out she went. Sitting in the road looking startled with such a sore bottom poor child. But I was only starting off and not going fast. I love your Dickie news of all kinds and he sits up for breakfast and has eggy things, the girls would like that. Does Candy approve. I see the G.H.Q. India has moved to Kandy which just shows, I shouldn’t wonder. Oh, I loved the telling of the talk with Maffione Francesco. Bless the boy. I should have brought some things for him, I’ll see if I can get up there but its a bit of a long joy ride, San Antonio had arranged my leave trip to fit with Francesco’s wishes before. Did you tell him cold or did you give him the Italian message I sent from Gragnano? You telling him yourself would be better the other was formal as it were. Yes, didn’t I say, I gather from their very voluble outpourings that one son is at home and one away, like two football results. They were certainly fond of him. I’m fond of you, oh dear me yes. I’m reading The Golden Arrow, and it is almost too much, this for example….”They started for church in great mirth, after an earnest discussion between Mrs. Arden and Deborah about the oven damper. They were accompanied by all the lambs – stout, close-curled, ego-centric – but this escort fell away by twos and threes.” and “The ways of lovers are many as the sheep-tracks on the mountains; but they all lead into the shadow-blue distance, into beauty; into rest; into stress and blessed grief and godlike laughter.”
You know, about us, I’ve been thinking, in the night watches, prowling round the quays and leaning on the bulwarks of Liberty ships looking after the lamplit harbour. You have often said that we were so happy there must be some price and I shared that fear though had not the courage to express my fear. It did seem too good to be free. Now, I wonder if this is the payment we have to make? If so, it is easier to bear, because the prize is so wondrous. If this is the price for our happiness, this little but at the time, so endless, separation, we know where we are and as such we can pay willingly. San Antonio does help, with giving you the gift of writing and me the gift of understanding and Dickie is a constant reminder of the most vivid kind I should think. I think so much about that baby, so small, who can with God’s grace, be big and manly. You say there is a vestige of paternity in my photographs now. I wonder. Certainly I feel a father, and, I hope, a kindly one. If he is going to be gracious and friendly too we can be happy therein. Your new drawing is on the way and that makes me happy.
How silly of the Jeavons to be difficult. Tell him, if you want to, that nine tenths of the world lacks bread and that children die in Greece and the Balkans, and were in parts of Italy, for want of bread. If he has time and energy to spare, why not grow food which is swelling the world’s supply and not strawberries for West End prices, and tell him that if he’s rude to you I’ll openly knock him over if he’s openly rude, or If he’s subtly rude, subtly make his mother and he want to leave our parish. Oh, I’d like to have the chance of being with him for a few minutes, my God, cutting YOU. Good Lord, he and his soft life and his emasculate mind. If when I go home he is rude I’ll seek him out openly and discuss the subject. God the lilly livered ones, the Gittings and the Jeavons. But there are Hansons and Suffields, and Christopher came and stayed the day and had a spelling lesson. The good man and pranced about in front of Richard. Good good man. I’ll send the Italian pistol home to him if you think he’d like it and a nice dagger, also picked up at Salerno. There’s a red stain which I think is boot polish but it can be blood for him.
What a splendid idea making a dangler out of one of the filigree sections, a very fine idea. You must have looked fine at the dance. Such little things I’ve sent, but being from me to you they are rare to you. The Rector’s Tea Cup is not easy I bought pottery in the early days, when we first came into Italy. American and British soldiers have shopped hard ever since, Prices have soared and stocks, irreplaceable as most of them come from the North wear thin. I think it would be hard and more expensive than at home. Did the nails arrive, that was an achievement after all and she owes you six and eight pence I think it was. Get it. For you. Oh, what a letter not half I want to say. Yours are read and reread. Is my mother with you, my love to her if so. And my love to my son from Dad-eee, and to his mother from her quite stupidly single minded and fond, unworthy and ambitious, lover-husband….
For Dickie XXX & Candy XXXXX David XXXX
