The Captive Heart Page #5

to keep him sane.

"Will you write

to me again, celia,

"as though I were

a stranger?

"Somebody who knows nothing

of your life and your home.

"Even of yourself. "

Changed?

Why, he's even learned

to write grammatically.

Write to him as though

he were a stranger.

Robert!

Come back to be briefed.

Sort of a hush-hush job.

Thought you wouldn't mind

if I just called in this evening,

Say hail and farewell.

Of course not.

Come in.

You look ill, Carol.

I'm all right.

I ran into Beryl

in an odd sort of mood.

I gather she isn't

living with you any longer.

No. No, she left

soon after you went away.

Heard from Stephen yet?

Oh, yes, I've heard

from Stephen.

What's he say?

That our marriage

is all washed up.

What?

He got a letter accusing me

of having an affair with you.

Carol, I... but who?

Beryl.

Ahh...

I see.

And he actually believed it?

Yes.

I'll write back myself

and tell him the whole thing's

a deliberate, malicious lie.

What for?

What for? You don't want Stephen

to go on thinking this, do you?

I don't care

what he thinks now.

Carol, you mustn't

take it like that.

Stephen's a prisoner of war.

If you were in his place,

would you pay two seconds' attention

to a poison pen letter?

I don't know.

I'd never been

in love before.

I thought being in love meant that

you trusted each other completely.

All the things he said,

I believed every word.

Killed my love for him.

Caroline, my darling,

I can't bear to see you cry.

Don't forget to

drop us a line, dear,

if there's anything you want.

I've tried to get used to it,

Bu I still can't believe it.

We were so much in love.

Ah, it's a mystery to me.

He has a right to

change his mind, I suppose.

Could it be that he

doesn't think it's fair

to make Elspeth

wait on and on?

Do you think it might

be that?

No. I don't think

David's the kind

to make that sort of sacrifice

for that sort of reason.

Good-bye, my darling.

Good-bye.

Good-bye.

The photograph I'm sending

makes me look

absurdly young,

but I'm no longer young.

The one of Janet,

that funny expression's

only shyness,

not a stomach ache.

I can see her now

through the window

telling her grandpapa

how to plant tomatoes.

I'm worried about her teeth.

Father thinks she should wear

one of those wire things.

And that hulking boy is Desmond.

9 years old yesterday.

The village is livelier

than it's ever been.

We have a large contingent

of evacuees

and a lot of other visitors

that come and go.

Everything's changed and yet

nothing's changed.

There's the whistle

of the 4:
35.

Half an hour late as usual.

Mrs. Trusket still serves

her homemade toffee.

Where she manages to get

the sugar from, I can't imagine.

And there's still cricket

on Saturday afternoon.

Oh, what a kick in the pants

that turned out to be.

5 times more officers

than other ranks

and they have to knock

the stuffing out of us.

It was a mistake having Longarm too

close to the wire.

If he has to run back to take a catch,

- he's had it.

- Yeah.

Do you know what the

Jerries want for a new ball?

- What?

- 500 cigarettes.

Sheer blackmail.

Oh, I think it's worth it

if this marvelous weather

continues.

I wonder if they've been having

an early spring at home.

"The apple trees are in

full blossom already,

"making the orchard

look like a sheet of freezing snow.

"And 10-Acre Meadow

is all white, too.

"Because this year,

"that's where the ewes are

pastured with their lambs.

"Soon the garden will

be filled with the scent

"and color of the May.

"And beyond the river,

"you can see the first

vivid green of the larches

"and the bluebell wood. "

- Ted?

- Yeah?

Remember that redhead

I told you about?

Let's see, is that your

own true dream girl lovey pie

Or cheerio, toots?

It's my steady.

She says the works manager's

fallen for her.

Says he s a key man.

Sounds like one of them

backdoor key men to me.

You and your pinup girls.

My pinup's Tessie O'Shea,

with a...

Yeah, but in my experience...

Your experience?

God blarmy, one sniff

of a barmaid's apron,

and you'd be on your knees,

sonny boy.

That's all you know.

Teach you

a thing or two.

What's the matter, Ted?

Bad news?

Ted?

Blimey, I never saw that one.

Hey, my old woman's

got on the buses.

Oh, you'll be walking the kids

when you get home.

If we get home.

It's a firm stand

I'm gonna take.

The rest of them

you can eat,

but not Lili Marleen.

She's got such

a trusting look in her eye.

Besides, next winter

I shall use her as a hot water bottle.

I've had a letter.

Amazing.

Perhaps there's one for me

With news

of the baby.

No letter for you.

There is news.

Flora's all right?

Not Ann-Marie?

She's okay.

Letter's from her.

"It's a baby girl.

She's doing nice.

Until its... "

You'll have it

sooner or later.

Seems that doctor warned

her about it being dangerous,

Because of her age.

She wouldn't be put off.

Flo was with her

at the end.

It was all over

quite quick.

Flo's gonna look

after the baby until you get back.

The play's the thing.

We're in our catch

the conscience of the king.

Well, what happens

in the end?

Do they thump the

dirty old basket off?

Well, there's a sort of

all-round massacre,

And Hamlet gets killed

himself.

That's gangster stuff.

The old boy certainly

knew his onion.

You wait till we get to

"Richard III."

There's a murder

on practically every page.

You're getting pretty hot

at this business, David.

Oh, it's easy. But I'm still terrible

clumsy with my hands.

Oh, I don't know about that.

That tobacco pouch you made

was a smashing job.

I've got sort of used to it now.

And, well, you've all been so...

You get on with your reading.

I want to know

what happens next.

Right.

Celia, your letter has arrived

with the photographs.

They're in front of me

as I write.

You ask me to describe

our life here

so that you may picture it

in your imagination.

From where I sit,

I can hear the sound of a piano.

It is my friend Stephen Harley.

I wish you could hear

this music,

for it describes our life here

better than I could ever do

with words.

It tells of men emerging

from the twilight.

Turning their faces inward.

Through wire.

Creating in miniature

a world of their own.

It tells of men who have

come to terms with the present

and find it far from empty.

Men who no longer lie down

to fate

but face it.

And find their own ways of beating it.

All this goes to make up

the picture of our life here,

made bearable only by

the letters and parcels

we receive from home.

They keep our bodies

and our faith alive.

And that is true not only of us

here in our little wired

enclosed cinder patch,

but also of the scores of

other camps throughout Germany.

Great sprawling towns

of 20,000 men

or hamlets of a few hundred,

each a little piece of England.

Months pass and my thoughts

are constantly of you, Celia.

Summer gives place to autumn,

autumn to winter.

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