But Then He Writes

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Martha should have been happy about the letter from St Hibbert's, but she would have traded it in for a note from Dean. She went to the Post on her way home, but there was nothing. She went again the next morning and there was... a note. He had written! Martha's heart flew up in her chest like a skylark. She put the note in the zip front pocket of her backpack and dashed to the library to be in the world of her and Dean, alone.

* * *

Dear M

I shouldn't have made fun of that boy. You should go out with boys your age. It's foolish for me to judge your situation, when mine is very different. I may wish I had more freedom in my life to travel, pursue my art and, yes, go out with other women, but I shouldn't transfer that onto you. You're bound to make some bad choices, but that is the joy of being young. You can have fun. It didn't work out for me because I took my eye off the ball and confused being irresponsible with having fun. But you seem far more sensible than I was at your age, and I'm sure you wouldn't get into the same kind of trouble as I did. So, please: have fun. I'm holding you back.

I loved getting your letters, and I enjoyed reading them, but I am afraid that if someone else found them, they might jump to conclusions about what is going on between us. The truth is, I have crossed a line by writing these notes to you. It's not fair to you and I need to let you live your life properly, without meddling in your decisions, without my interference. Apart from in your art, of course, which needs my interference! So I won't be writing any more. Please stop writing to me. I won't be going to the Post to check it.

D

P.S. I am going to burn our correspondence and I suggest you destroy your letters from me too.

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