With regard to my staying longer as suggested in your letter I have given the matter much consideration and have decided . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NOT to prolong my stay, but will leave for home tomorrow (Saturday) by Fishguard Express, leaving Cardiff at 1 o’clock. I will stay in London overnight and return to Edinburgh on Sunday.

I shall be glad to see your gentle sweet face again I assure you, and the longing to have your company is all powerful with me. The time has seemed long since I last saw you and I will not willingly make it any longer, so all being well I will be home on Sunday and have no doubt you will think I have done right and be glad to see me again.

You may possibly think this rather the letter of a lover than a husband, pray consider it as coming from BOTH. I have written what I feel, there! And you must take me as I am – love and all.

On consulting my diary I see that when I was here last year, a bridegroom of just a few days was drowned in the sea in full view of his wife. How impossibly sad! How thankful we ought to feel that we have each other, so rich in love in our home.

I will forever be grateful that you said yes to my proposal . . . and I will not forget what Ann had to endure for so long. You must believe me when I say that you have never been second best in my eyes.

Loving kisses and a thousand kind thoughts for my darling.

Yours always,

John

Tess passes the paper to Georgia. ‘Wow. Not formal at all this time.’

Georgia looks down at the words. ‘It’s a love letter.’ She strokes the thick paper. ‘It’s all so recent, isn’t it?’

‘How do you mean?’

Georgia refolds the paper carefully. ‘This is the sort of letter that any man might write to a new wife who is taking the place of someone who died, and who is feeling terribly, terribly anxious that she isn’t doing enough to make the family happy. Today it would be less flowery, and probably sent as an email, or a text, but the sentiment is the same. He has spent a lot of time on it and filled it with love and reassurance.’

Tess sighs. ‘I read somewhere that future historians will despair at the lack of twenty-first century letters and diaries. To be honest I’m struggling to see how everyone fits together. I think I need a family tree.’