TO: EVELYN ELLIOTT, WAAC, SIGNALLERS (TELEPHONES) DIVISION, BASE HILL, ROUEN, FRANCE
SENT: 9:30 / RECEIVED: 10:04
LATEST COLUMN GONE TO PRINT. ON NEWSSTANDS TOMORROW. HUNKER IN FOR MORE OUTCRY BUT GLORY TOO. HARDING FUSSES TOO MUCH. JOHN.
Letter from Evie to John
6th July, 1918
Rouen, France
John,
How could you? How could you tell Thomas we were engaged to be married? He feels cheated and let down by a friend.
I cannot forgive you for this, John, and I certainly cannot marry a man who believes he can decide my future, never mind disregard my friendships. I once told you I believed I would find my answer to your proposal in France, and indeed I have.
My answer is no.
I should have told you a year ago and spared everyone this awful misery.
To that end, I will liaise directly with Jack Davies with regard to future columns. I’m quite sure he has no plans to marry me without my consent.
Evelyn
Letter from Thomas to Evie
15th July, 1918
Somewhere in France
Evie,
I have attempted to control my ire, to cool off, but it hasn’t helped. Damn it, Evie! I poured my heart out to you these last terrible years. About everything. My confusion, my struggles, my despair. You know about my father, about me—all there is! How could you betray me? I have supported you in every way possible, in all of your dreams. I cheered as you pursued your desires, as you pursued your love of writing. Yet you use it against me in the cruellest possible way.
Now, all is lost. The paper, our friendship, my family. All is lost, because Hopper skulked around behind my back—with my dearest friend, with one of the precious few people I care about in this world. I may have been unsure about my place at the LDT and Father’s wishes, but I would never let the paper fall into ruin and disgrace. You have done that for me, haven’t you? You and that lying sack-of-excuses for a man. I should have known better than to ever trust him.
I am disgusted.
Marry him, Evie. You deserve each other. Run off together and enjoy your prestige and estates and perfect lives. Let the war take me. It’s where I belong now, on this battlefield among my men who fight with a courage you will never see in that spineless fiancé of yours.
My life may be small compared to your glorious John Hopper of fortune and looks and charm, but I live it with a passion he will never understand. I will make my father proud, and my countrymen, and I will never lower myself out of fear. Did you ever ask your future husband why he isn’t at the Front? Perhaps you should. The answer isn’t what he, no doubt, led you to believe.
I wish you well. Even in my rage, I hope you never burn with anger and disappointment as I do now. I am sorry it has come to this.
Goodbye, Evelyn.
Tom
From Evie to Alice
28th July, 1918
Rouen, France
Darling Alice,
Dreadful, dreadful news. Thomas got wind of Hopper’s proposal and thinks I have accepted. I am absolutely furious with John. What right does he have to presume my acceptance and spread word that we are to be married? How could he do such a thing?
Tom sent the most awful telegram, followed by a letter so full of anger my body aches with a physical pain to even think of it, and I’m afraid it gets worse. The LDT is being closed down temporarily because my articles caused such a stir. Tom believes that me and Hopper planned it together to bring about his downfall. He writes like a madman, Alice. I have never known him so angry. What am I to do? I’m utterly devastated at the thought of hurting Tom and losing his trust. And though his accusations seem absurd in a way, I’m struggling with guilt that I didn’t end it with Hopper when I had the chance. The moment he kissed me in that fountain, I knew—deep down—that there was no hope of love for us. I wish I’d told Tom about the proposal, rather than pretending it had never happened. And I wish I had declined John immediately.
I think about my latest column and want to shake myself. Why was I so hell-bent on telling “the truth”? What does it matter in the end? We are still at war. Thousands of men are dying every day. My words make no difference at all. All they have achieved is to destroy the only true thing I have ever known. My pen might as well be a knife, stabbing me in the heart with its so-called truths and misplaced principles.
What an awful mess I’ve made of everything. You know how Tom is. He’s as stubborn as I am. He won’t forgive me easily. I feel so desperately alone and my heart aches as if it has been physically bruised, while the rest of the world seems doused in laudanum, dull and lifeless.
What on earth am I to do?
Yours in despair,
Evie
X
Official notice from the War Office to Lieutenant Thomas Harding
30th July, 1918
London, England
Dear Sir,
We have issued two notices of warning to your establishment the London Daily Times at 18 Fleet Street regarding the incendiary nature of your column titled “A Woman’s War.” In a heedless manner, the paper has continued to print both unethical as well as offensive libel about the war to the detriment of our militia and the Crown. Too much is at stake for us to ignore this blatant disregard for the law. At this time, the London Daily Times press will be closed until further notice, or until all proprietary rights have been relinquished to the government, effective immediately.
Sincerely,
Admiral Michael Jenkins c/o War Office, Whitehall
From Alice to Evie
1st August, 1918
Brighton, England
Dear Evie,
Try not to fret, my love! Men are easy to anger, quick to forget, and your Tom has loved you his whole life. I see that now more than ever, just by his reaction. He will get over this and the paper will survive—as will your friendship. You protected your interests and there’s nothing wrong with that. He would do the same. Besides, how were you to know Hopper would lie about your engagement? Really, is he so desperate? I’m glad you never gave him an answer, the toad. He doesn’t deserve you.
In time, Tom will understand this. Let him cool off, as you said, and then write to him. I think it is time the words you very much need to say are finally spoken. Until then, perhaps you could apply for a period of leave. Imagine if we could meet and have that walk together? This will blow over before you know it. Trust me. It will.
I am thinking of you.
Alice
X
From Evie to Thomas
3rd August, 1918
Rouen, France
My dear Thomas,