Seymour, it won’t ever be crying in its cot because I’ve fallen asleep, truly it won’t. You don’t ever have to worry about that now.

You should see all the cute things I’ve knitted for it (while I’m down talking to the fish in the lake).

I hope you get this letter and you haven’t moved on to some place else. And that things turned out OK for you at the new school and no one’s giving you a hard time. You know I never meant it when I said I never liked you. That was just me feeling sorry for myself and hitting out at the nearest thing which just happened to be you. I thought you were an ace kid (even though you wore that daggy shirt!). I hope I see you again some day. Hey, how about writing to me? It gets a bit lonely up here. Sounds silly, doesn’t it, when there are so many people here—sometimes we even have to have two shifts for meals in the dining room. But it’s spooky, like climbing a big mountain all by yourself in the fog. Still, I reckon I’m nearly up to the top, now. When I get there, I’ll tell you what the view’s like!*

Love from Angie

* If Morris Carpenter’s got anything to do with it, the fog might be just as thick up at the top! (Joke.)

P.S. Please write to me, love. I really miss you. Be my friend, keep me comforty, OK?

POSTSCRIPT

Dear Angie,

I got your letter and the photo—it was great to hear from you! Lots of times I wanted to write, but I didn’t even know where you were—could have been Saturn for all I knew. Angie, I’m glad it’s not.

Carrucan’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My mum seems to like it, too. Her job was only supposed to be for six months, but the other lady went overseas. We’ve got a really beaut flat underneath the house and Mum bought me some wallpaper to do up my room. I’ve got posters and that stuck up, too. You should see it. Mum sort of bosses the old bloke who owns the house around a lot, but he’s pretty deaf and doesn’t seem to mind. He really likes her cooking and the way she keeps the house looking so tidy. I reckon we might be staying put for awhile.