English Year 9



Love Letters Straight from the Heart by Terry TappThere were six letters on the doormat - four bills, one circular and one green envelope. It was, of course, the green envelope which caught Robert’s eye.He picked up the bundle and ambled through to the kitchen, systematically slitting the letters open with his thumb. Then, he put the kettle on for a cup of tea, lit a cigarette and sat at the table.Purposely teasing himself, he opened the accounts, read them and placed them to one side - envelopes in a neat pile ready for the waste bin. The circular came next and Robert spent a tantalising two minutes deciding that he did not require a set of ‘see-as-you-cook’ cards. Now for the green envelope.At that moment the kettle whistled and, with a rueful grin, Robert went to the stove and poured the boiling water over the tea in the pot. His heart was pounding.With not so much as a glance at the green envelope, he poured the milk into the cup, added sugar and waited for the tea to infuse. And all the while his stomach was knotted with a curious mixture of guilt and excitement.‘I’ll write to you,’ she had said. ‘Do you think that wise?’ he had asked anxiously. Robert poured his tea and took the cup back to the table. After a sip or two, he could stand the tension no longer and he pulled the letter out.My Darling, it started. I promised you that I would write… but what can I say? I could say I love you, but the phrase is all used up nowadays: I adore you… I worship you. No, it means much more than that. To be terribly romantic, I think I would lay down my life for you if you asked it. I want, anyway I can, to make you happy.Robert lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply.Our stolen time together was an island in my life. I must see you again. God knows, it isn’t often during a lifetime that two people meet and fall in love. For us to have met, like strangers lost in a big city, was a miracle and I cannot let it go at that.I know you are married and I know you feel guilty about our affair, but I am helpless to stop myself pursuing you. Ever yours, Your unsigned lover.Robert read it again and again. He drank his tea and smoked another cigarette and then read the letter through again, savouring each word like a fine, rare wine. Who would have guessed that he, a middle-aged executive would fall madly, crazily in love with a girl half his age? It wasn’t as if he was unhappily married either. Cynthia has been - still was - a good and loyal wife. He bit his lip, struggling against the guilt which surged through him.Another cup of tea and cigarette.What would he do if she became too serious? Would he be prepared to give up everything for her?Divorce? Oh, God, he thought. Not that.Yes, he loved her, and she was obviously madly in love with him; but to give up everything, the home, the safe, stable marriage…Yet again he read the letter, his thoughts clashing against his skull like steel pins until he could no longer think properly.Did he love her? Did he love her more than he loved Cynthia? How can a man answer such a thing? They were separate loves, pigeon-holed, waterproof emotions which could not possibly be mixed. He would, no matter what, always love his wife. Yet, he could not deny it, he was like a schoolboy at the thought of spending more time with his new love.As he placed another cigarette between his lips, Cynthia came into the kitchen to start the breakfast.‘Tea in the pot,’ he said, as he always did.She nodded, removed a cigarette from his pack and lit it.‘Just a boiled egg,’ he told her in reply to her upraised eyebrows. Funny that Cynthia never had to speak. A look here, a nod there and that was all that was needed. He observed her anew.Dressing gown, tatty slippers, hair not yet brushed. She stood over the stove, cigarette dangling from her lips, thoughts a million miles away. Yet, as soon as she had prepared his breakfast, it would take but ten or fifteen minutes to transform. She would be washed, dressed in something smart and her make-up would be flawless. Robert grinned. It was a dilemma.‘What are you smiling at?’ she asked suddenly.‘Nothing,’ he said.She shrugged. ‘Did I hear the postman?’‘Yes’, he answered, suddenly realising that he was holding the green letter in his hands.‘Anything interesting?’ she asked.His heart went thump-thump-thump. ‘Nothing much. Just a few bills and a circular.’‘Nothing else?’‘No.’She placed the egg in the boiling water, noticed the shell had cracked and said, ‘Damn,’ causing a cylinder of ash to fall from her cigarette into the boiling water.Again she shrugged, then went to the table and laid plates and knives and spoons. ‘What’ this?’ she asked, picking up the green envelope. ‘I thought you said it was only bills and things.’ ‘Nothing,’ he replied, noting with some annoyance that his voice was trembling.‘It’s a letter,’ she said.Robert pushed the corner of the green page deep into his pocket. ‘Just business,’ he told her. ‘Anyway, you know we have this thing about reading each other’s mail. This happens to be private.’She held the envelope between the forefinger and thumb as if it were infected.‘In that case,’ she replied, ‘perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me why you opened a letter which is addressed to me.’ ................
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