The Keeper

Born At the Wrong Time

Dean walked out to the forest. He dropped his bag under a beech tree, sat down, and fished out the unopened letter in his pocket.

* * *

Dearest Dean

Okay, I get it. I know you are receiving my letters because they're being taken from the Post and if it wasn't you taking them, all hell would break loose (maybe we should have been writing to each other with codenames, but I guess it's too late for that!). So yes, you wrote we shouldn't be writing to each other, but where does that leave me? Don't I get a say in this? Because it's bullshit. You are trying to pretend that if you don't write, our feelings will go away. But I can tell you, mine won't. Ever.

I am more certain about this than I've been about anything in my life (and don't tell me how short a period that is. Just don't). Yes, you're thirteen years older and that seems like a lot. But when I'm 40, you'll be 53. That doesn't seem so different. We'll both be middle-aged and we can grow old together.

Even now, we have so much in common. We think the same way, appreciate the same things. I like the art and books and music you like. I can't imagine listening to that music with any boys my age. Toph was nice to be with, to do active things with, but we didn't have a connection, not like how I felt when we were in the gallery, or when I catch a glance from you in class, or any time we are close together. I can't say that I understand it all. There is a chemistry; is it hormones, the way you smell, or the effect of the sound of your voice? There is that attraction, for sure, but it's more than that: you reach the depths of me with your words. No one else comes close or could do. I know it deep down and it's only our circumstances that keep us apart. We can change that, if you give me time.

I'll study at St Hibbert's like you want and I'll become a better artist. And older, of course. Then we'll move away from this town and out into the countryside we love. And we'll be near the sea, which we love. And we'll both earn money by painting, which we'll love. I'll garden and you'll cook and we won't care what anyone thinks because we won't have to see anyone we don't have to.

And we can travel! If we went to Spain together, we would be completely free. No one would know us. I want to see the beaches Sorolla painted. To experience that light.

Don't you want to do that? Sometimes England feels so grey. Not that I don't want to live here. I love my family. And it's good to be able to visit them, I know. But we could spend a few months in Spain and really experience things. I think it's quite cheap to live there. We would find a run-down place that cost practically nothing and maybe stay a while, sell our paintings to the tourists, learn the language.

It would be better than staying here with people who have nothing better to do than gossip.

A Spanish adventure – it would be brilliant!

I don't know what to write that will convince you. I know that you're pushing me away. You think you're doing the right thing, but you're not. How can it be right if it leaves all of us – you, me and even your wife – unhappy? Our relationship has grown through these letters. They've shown that we're kindred spirits who are meant to be together.

Joan used to say that people don't change as they age, they just become more so. I know who I am and who you are, and that we're both meant to be together. I know you could see that too, if you stopped worrying about what other people might think.

You said before that you were stubborn and determined, but so am I. You have spent most of your life doing the right thing. How has that worked out? Is your wife happy? Are you happy? You said my letters make you happy, but you want me to stop writing them. That doesn't make sense. But I will stop, because I don't want to risk ruining our relationship because of some accidental discovery. That is the only thing I worry about. I don't worry about being in too deep because I enjoy swimming out of my depth. You should come in with me, the water's lovely!

I will keep checking the Post and you can change your mind about this if you want to be happy. Don't you deserve some happiness? What happened to your brother happened a long time ago. I know little about him, but if he was a decent guy, he wouldn't have wanted you to give up your life because his life ended, I'm sure of it. Life is short. We don't believe in the afterlife; we don't believe we get to have another crack at it. So what are you waiting for? You've persuaded me to change the course of my life and paint, and I'm going to try. Can't you try too? Can't you give us a chance?

You've been doing the right thing by your wife, but what has it got you? Nothing but misery. It's a commitment to misery! Your wife broke her vows to you already by not loving and caring for you. If you can accept that and leave, I'll be here for you. I'll always be here for you. I'll wait as long as it takes. Some people wait a lifetime for true love and never have it. Now that I've found it, don't make me let it go.

Maybe I was born at the wrong time, but I ended up in the right place. Over-thinking what we know is right in our hearts is only going to break them.

Yours, forever

Martha xxx