The Daughter's Manumission

Twenty-Nine Years Ago Dear Davey, Stevie and Dad, I’m not sure if any of my other letters to you have reached you because I’ve not heard anything back from you. I don't really know where to begin except to say that I’m sorry that I left the way I did, and I wish I’d done it some other way. I hope that you’re not still too mad at me. If you have had my other letters and you are still angry with me, please forgive me. And especially, I wanted to apologise that I stole your money. I have enclosed a money order for the amount I took. I did it with the other letters but it was never cashed. I hope that makes it right. I'm doing fine now and I’m earning well. I have my own apartment. It’s only a small one that I’m renting, but I’m saving up to buy my own place. If you are in the City at all, you could visit me. Or if you like, I could visit you. I'd love to come and see you. How are you all? How is Dad these days? Better, I hope? I miss him. I miss all of you. I’ll keep this short now, but if you get this letter, please write back to me. I’d love to hear from you. All my Love, Shelley. David leans forward, snags toast from the back and scrapes butter over it. “More toast, Dad?” he says, offering it across, then looks more closely at his father. “Still tired? If you'd like to go back to bed, I'll bring your breakfast up.” Al accepts the toast. “No, I'm feeling a bit better today, David. I think I'll go for a walk.” David smiles. “You're not fooling me, Dad. I saw you walking with that Delia Hemsworth again the other day. And the two of you looked very friendly.” Stephen, working through the mail, glances up, brows raised. “Really? S’that right?” But he doesn’t look unhappy. Al concentrates on the marmalade he is spreading on his toast. “Would that bother you boys?” “Not at all,” says Stephen, a letter poised in his hand. “She’s a good strong woman. Just what you need. She’d be good for you.” He nods towards the mantelpiece where a framed photo of a woman with firm features and a hard smile sits next to another of a red-headed teenage girl. “Nice-looking too.” David looks up from his paper. “Anything interesting in the post?” “No, just the usual crap.” Stephen glances at the photo then screws up the letter and tosses it into the fire with the rest of the junk mail. *****