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Francesca, my darling love,
To-night I had the good luck to get a lift in a taxi that was just moving off with a fare to Iver Heath so I had no wait at all and no walk through a dismal drizzle of rain. What a wonderful evening it has been. ‘The Consul’ was an immensely moving experience and what added to the depth of my happiness was the knowledge that but for you I would not have had it. Your presence pours a soft radiance of joy over my life …
I was just settling down to go on with this after lunch when Ken Rice phoned through. I find it hard to say why I felt so tongue-tied when he spoke to me but I just suddenly felt, when I knew you had told him, that what he was saying was about something so terribly important in my life that I could hardly keep a tremble out of my voice any more than I could keep it out of my hands as I held a wobbling receiver to my ear. Similarly I feel very nervous about ringing anyone up myself although I have now told Mary Hall, the wife of a very old friend of mine who is the medical officer for Bucks; I was best man at his wedding before the last war.
Everything seems to have gone out of my mind but the thought of seeing you again tomorrow. In my heart I hear the proud love of Handel's music to –
Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade;Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade;Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,And all things flourish where'er you turn your eyes.
To me it means one thing and one thing only, for now and for ever, my darling Francesca.
It has been a lovely day, cold but sunny and clear with maybe a promise of something good for tomorrow.