3
Nancy closed the door to her study and sat down in her chair. She put the letter on the desk in front of her and took a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn’t seen that neat handwriting for over 50 years, and she’d never expected to see it again.
She picked up the letter again and sniffed it. It smelled of paper. Did you expect it to smell of him, you old fool? No point looking at it, Nancy Smith. Open it!
Smith. Funny how her inner voice admonished her using her maiden name. She’d been a Farnham for how long? 49 years. She and Xander would be celebrating their golden wedding anniversary next year if he hadn’t had that stupid heart attack. Not that it was much of a marriage. He’d probably been faithful to her for a year at most. But she knew all about his flirtatious ways with women before she married him. After all, he’d used his charms to get her into bed with him as well. She should never have marched into that register office and said, ‘I will’. But then, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have Nigel and Mark. And after all that funny business in Paris, at least becoming Mrs Farnham had given her an air of respectability.
Stop procrastinating! She put the envelope back on the desk while she searched in the top drawer for her father’s old letter opener. If this letter was from the person she thought, it deserved to be opened neatly. She found the miniature silver sword with Joan of Arc clasping the handle at the top lurking at the back of the drawer behind a large roll of parcel tape. Her father had probably used it all those years ago to open the letter she sent him saying she wouldn’t be coming back to Coventry.
She carefully inserted the tip of the blade into the small gap at the top corner of the envelope, slowly eased it under the flap, and then angled it away from herself, quickly pushing it away from the envelope. It made a satisfying tearing sound as it cut through the first half of the flap. She repeated the movement to complete the job. She sighed. It was open now.
She took another deep breath before slipping her fingers inside the envelope to pull out its contents - a matching single sheet of good-quality paper. It was filled with writing in the same hand as the address. She unfolded it and began to read.