To continue our discussion, I think it’s important we get involved in the war effort somehow. I don’t especially want to be a nurse. I’m not cut out for it. Far too clumsy for a start. I’d no doubt kill more men than I would save. But there must be something we can do to help, even if it’s here at home working in the munitions factories. Let’s put our heads together, shall we? Perhaps I’ll register with the Labour Exchange. See what comes of it.
Thank you for your invitation to go cycling next month, but you know me, I would rather be run over by one than be caught dead exerting myself. I’m sure you’re adorable on Rusty, just the same. Instead, I’m learning to drive and I’m quite good! If my mother knew, she’d have an absolute fit. Billy Peters, a friend of my father’s, has been kind enough to teach me in exchange for a few dinners out. I think it cheers the old bugger up a little! A win-win, wouldn’t you say?
All my love,
Alice
X
From Evie to Will
28th February, 1915
Richmond, England
Dearest Will,
How lovely to get a few lines from you. I know it must be awfully hard, but please try to remain strong in spirit, even if your body is battered and bruised. You, Will Elliott, already have the heart of a lion. Now you must find the temperament of an ox to accompany it. You can bear this. I know you can.
Mama was so relieved to hear from you. She says to remind you that we could not be more proud. You serve your King and country—what greater glory could there be? I know you will have dark days, but I know you, when this is over you’ll be grateful for all of the goodness and long life before you instead of looking back on those difficult days. Also, I can feel spring is on its way, bringing brighter and warmer days to cheer us all. Everything seems worse in the winter. You must keep watch for the first spring flowers. Tulips, perhaps? Do they grow in France? Think about the tulips, Will, and keep faith in yourself. You command your own destiny. Not the enemy. Only you.
Stay safe. I will write again soon. Send word with Tom if there is anything I can send to help you feel more comfortable.
Your ever-loving sister,
Evie
From Evie to Thomas
1st March, 1915
Richmond, England
Dear Tom,
Pinch, punch, first of the month! Goodness, I think this must be the first time I’ve managed to get those words out before you. Perhaps there are small victories to be won in wartime after all.
March already. You and Will have been gone six months. Half a year. It feels more like half a lifetime. How much longer must we endure this, Tom? How much longer until the enemy is defeated and you can return to England, victorious? Perhaps you’ll be able to apply for leave soon? It would be wonderful to see you. I think of you every time I see the soldiers on the trains, their uniforms still caked in mud. Some are home on leave, some are recovering from wounds, and all are ever-anxious to return to their brothers at the Front. They look so strange to me. Like ghosts, almost. So different to the hale and hearty men who left last summer.
At least there is some joy to be found in the improvement in the weather. Rusty the bicycle has emerged from hibernation! I took advantage of a pleasant day yesterday and set out for a long cycle in Richmond Park. I forget how beautiful it is when I haven’t been for a while. I pedalled to the top of the hill and took in the view across Petersham Meadows and along the Thames all the way to the city. It looked so peaceful and I felt so safe sitting on my lofty perch. I imagined I could see all the way to France and I waved to you all and sent you good wishes on the breeze. I hope you know how often we think of you all; how often we take pause in our day to reflect and to pray for your safe return.
Mrs. Pankhurst was marvellous. She’s a formidable woman and I was stirred by her words. She spoke of the need to support the government and has agreed to step down her campaign to secure the vote for women in order to focus on encouraging us to get involved in the war effort. She and her daughter, Christabel, are lobbying to bring about involuntary conscription. It is hard not to support her when you hear her speak in person. With every new report of heavy losses at the Front, and with the NCF (No-Conscription Fellowship) pacifists having recently opened an office on Fleet Street, one really doesn’t know what to think anymore. Papa says the NCF’s operation is a disgrace and will be shut down.
You also asked about my writing, and yes, I have started again. All I seem to do these days is write in one form or another. I take comfort from it, but find it infuriating at the same time. I pour my emotions into my journal, write lines of poetry, and yet nothing changes. I can express all the anger and fear and hope I have within me, use the most beautiful words in the English language, or write a stream of muddled rambling thoughts—it makes not one bit of difference. They are, after all, just words on a page. No matter what I truly think of this war, I cannot stop it.
I took my journal to Richmond Hill this morning and read my words out loud, shouting them into the wind, imagining them being heard across London and printed in the newspapers so that everyone might know how I feel about this war. It makes madmen of us all, Tom. Of that I am certain.
As for the examples of true love you shared in your last letter, I will admit defeat. Who could ever denounce Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers? You are perfectly right. I must not become cynical. I must believe in the inherent good within people. Not in the evil that drives them to war.
What news of your father? I hope he is feeling much better.
Stay safe, dear boy.
Write soonest.
Evie
P.S. I forgot to tell you about the dinner party with your cousin. I don’t know why you are so down on Hopper. He was perfectly charming (I’m sure Mama would have me marry him tomorrow), and I found myself enjoying his company immensely. Then again, I am so starved of male companionship I suspect I would have enjoyed an evening with the gardener. You are too hard on Hopper. I can find nothing bad to say about him, I’m afraid.
From Will to Evie
10th March, 1915
Somewhere in France
Dear Favourite Little Sister,
You didn’t even have to harass me and I’ve written. Surely there should be another surprise awarded for that?
I’ve been bursting with news and couldn’t wait any longer to tell you—something you never thought you’d hear, I bet. I’m in love with a beautiful French girl named Amandine Morel. She’s a nurse stationed at the field hospital close to the reserve trenches, so I see quite a lot of her. I can hardly think of anything else. I know—I’ve gone mad!
Don’t tell Mama. Things have a proper order and war has thrown us all off-balance. I’m not ready to make any big decisions yet, but I thought you might like to know that all is not doom and gloom here. Pass on my love to the family.
Yours,
Will
From Evie to Alice
14th March, 1915
Richmond, England
Dearest Alice,