‘Sure I will.’
David raised his eyebrows.
‘I’ll go there right away—once I’ve made a fresh coffee—my last one will be ice by now.’
‘If you’re sure and you promise to give it to her.’
‘Yes, I promise.’
David reluctantly handed over the letter. ‘See you later, then.’
‘Goodbye, David.’
‘Bye, Velda. Take care now.’
Velda clutched both letters in her hand, waiting for the gentle click that indicated the closing of the front door and David’s departure. When it arrived, she hurried back into the kitchen and filled the aluminium kettle with water.
‘Well?’ Beatrice asked, appearing at the doorway, eying the letters in her hand. ‘I take it, it was good news about Joseph?’
Velda nodded. ‘The best—he’s coming home.’
‘That’s wonderful news—is he okay?’
‘I think he got hurt, but he’s okay.’ She rushed over to Beatrice and hugged her tightly, continuing to cry. ‘He’s alive, Bea!’
Beatrice held her sister then said, ‘He is still married, though, Velda.’
‘I know.’ Velda carefully set the letters down, hers covering Audrey’s. ‘Why don’t you go and run yourself a nice bath before we go for that walk? I need a coffee and time to digest the news.’
Beatrice looked at the clock. ‘At this time of the morning? What an indulgence.’
‘Exactly,’ Velda replied. She took her sister’s hands in hers and met her gaze. ‘Listen, Beatrice,’ she began earnestly. ‘The last couple of weeks have been—without the obvious exception—the worst in my life; I hit the bottom and you helped me through it and I can’t thank you enough. Right now, I would just like a few minutes to myself to take it all in. Then, we can go for that walk. Hell, we can run, sing and dance, Beatrice!’
‘Well…okay, then,’ she agreed. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Positive,’ Velda said, reaching up and pecking her sister on the cheek.
Beatrice fluttered from the room.
Velda wiped her face on her handkerchief and waited until she heard the tell-tale sounds of movement upstairs before she returned to the kettle. Switching it on to boil, she slid Audrey’s letter out from beneath hers and held it in her hands, wondering as to the contents.
The thin pirouettes of steam that rose from the kettle spout began to grow more agitated and intense. Velda carefully held the envelope over the frantic surge of hot haze, watching as the gum became tacky. Small hillocks rose as the envelope flap began to separate.
Switching off the kettle, Velda took a butter knife from the drawer and carefully slid it along the V-shaped seam. The knife slid through the gum line effortlessly.
With vengeful satisfaction etched on her face, she took the letter out. Like hers, it was short. She read it quickly, but digested every word, then placed it back inside the envelope and pressed down on the top flap.
The letter was resealed, giving no indication that it had ever been opened.
With the envelope in her hand, Velda quietly slipped from the house.
It sure was some place for their first home after marrying. Typical Audrey. She had chosen an expensive place on 25th Avenue with exceptional views over the bay.
Velda stood at the porch and rang the doorbell, trying to suppress the feelings of disgust and loathing. Trying to suppress her anger.
The solid oak door opened and there, with her arms folded and lips pouting, stood Audrey. She was wearing a cream satin nightdress and movie-perfect make-up. ‘Oh.’
‘Audrey,’ Velda smirked. ‘How are you?’
Audrey rolled her eyes. ‘Managing.’
‘Yes, I saw you back in the summer. You were managing quite well with Dwight Kalinski.’
Audrey threw her head back in mock laughter. ‘Oh, you really are a funny girl, you know. I can see why Joseph found you an amusing little thing. Such a shame he dumped you.’
Velda ignored the tingling onset of fury that pricked at her heart and handed over the letter.
Audrey stared at it like she was being handed a plate of excrement.
She didn’t even recognise her own husband’s handwriting. ‘It’s for you.’
‘What is it?’ she sneered.
‘A letter.’
‘How witty of you. Is it from you? Some charming little outpouring of your ill feeling towards me?’ Audrey laughed and pushed the door shut.
‘It’s from Joseph,’ Velda stated, her voice raised. ‘He’s alive.’
The door reopened. Audrey drew in a long breath, staring at Velda.
‘He wants a divorce,’ Velda said with glee, flicking the letter out of Audrey’s reach.
Audrey stretched across to grab the letter and, as she did so, her nightdress came open and Velda gasped.
Audrey pulled the nightdress closed, snatched the letter and slammed the door.
Velda had a wide grin on her face as she sauntered off the property, certain that she was being watched leave. Audrey was pregnant. Two or three months—four at the most. Joseph had been on the other side of the world for five months.
As she reached the sidewalk, Velda did a dramatic twirl and laughed back at the house.
Chapter Eleven
20th June 1976, Lothrop Hill Cemetery, Barnstable, Massachusetts, USA
The sky was a bright monotone blue. Cloudless. Hot. Jack’s bare torso glistened with perspiration, as he toiled under the late afternoon sun. The thick black rubber gloves which he was forced to wear only added to his discomfort.
He dipped his sponge back into the murky bucket, then began to rub small circles to the rear of the headstone upon which he worked. The liquid—a pungent concoction of ammonium hydroxide and water—trickled down the dry grey headstone. Jack took a light brush and gently began to scrub away the effects of decades of grime and neglect. Inch by inch, the life and original colour returned to the stone.
Jack stood up and looked at the grave. It was for the son of the Reverend John Lothrop, the founder of the town of Barnstable. The words
