Letter from a Stranger

By Louise Roberts

A letter from a stranger is meant to boost the morale of front-line troops. For one soldier romance blissfully awaits...

At the outbreak of the Second World War, in Britain, women were encouraged to write letters to the men on the front line. For Jean White this would lead to a friendship with Bill Brooks, an anti-aircraft gunner with the Royal Artillery serving on the south coast of England at the height of the Blitz.

As German aircraft drop their deadly payloads over London and devastate most of southern England, the relationship between Jean and Bill blossoms. Through their correspondence, at first and then when they finally meet. It’s as though the world has stood still. A quiet weekend away from London strengthens their bond and romance blissfully flourishes.

As the war intensifies and Bill’s impending departure to foreign shores looms ever closer their future together seems insecure, until a few days before his departure when Bill proposes marriage. Will Jean accept the proposal or will doubt keep them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminosity Publishing LLP
• Release date: Jan 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781910397909

Louise Roberts

Louise Roberts grew up and was educated in London, England and has always held a passion for history and English Literature. She has been writing since her teenage years, but only began writing fiction in the 1990s having been inspired by her mother, Viviane Elisabeth Borg, who is a published author. Although Louise had immigrated to Sydney, Australia in 1988, she relocated to Europe in 2016 and today resides at the coastal town of Golfe-Juan in the south of France. Louise retains membership of Romance Writers of Australia; Australian Romance Readers Association; and Australian Society of Authors.

Book preview

LETTER FROM A STRANGER

Romance in War – Book 1

Louise Roberts

A letter from a stranger is meant to boost the morale of front-line troops. For one soldier romance blissfully awaits…

At the outbreak of the Second World War, in Britain, women were encouraged to write letters to the men on the front line. For Jean White, this would lead to a friendship with Bill Brooks, an anti-aircraft gunner with the Royal Artillery serving on the south coast of England at the height of the Blitz.

As German aircraft drop their deadly payloads over London and devastate most of southern England, the relationship between Jean and Bill blossoms. Through their correspondence, at first and then when they finally meet. It’s as though the world has stood still. A quiet weekend away from London strengthens their bond and romance blissfully flourishes.

As the war intensifies, and Bill’s impending departure to foreign shores looms ever closer, their future together seems insecure, until a few days before his departure when Bill proposes marriage. Will Jean accept the proposal or will doubt keep them apart?

LETTER FROM A STRANGER

Romance in War – Book 1

LOUISE ROBERTS

WWW.LUMINOSITYPUBLISHING.COM

LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

LETTER FROM A STRANGER

Romance in War – Book 1

Copyright © June 2015 Louise Roberts

ISBN: 978-1-910397-90-9

Cover Art by Poppy Designs

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction:

Brylcreem

Huntley & Palmers

Dedication

To Irene and Tom – In Memorandum

Chapter One

The Blitz

The light bulb flickered as a dull thud resonated through the walls of the underground shelter. Overhead, German aircraft dropped their deadly payloads onto London.

Jean gazed at the faces of those sheltering with her. Mum and dad, friends, neighbours and strangers who had been caught unawares away from home. Despite the fear the raids created, life in the shelters seemed to be undimmed.

Somewhere amidst the crying children music emanated from a wireless, women sat on chairs and stools chatting or knitting and generally doing their best of a terrifying situation and all secretly praying they will survive to see another day.

Seated on the floor, her back against the wall, Jean propped a letter pad on her lap, pen in hand. A candle by her side, she stared at the blank sheet of paper before her wondering how to write a letter to someone she had never met.

Autumn had commenced as a continuation of summer. For early September, the weather was exceptionally warm and today, Saturday the seventh, had been beautiful with blue skies and brilliant sunshine. Although the public house her mum, Violet and dad, Albert managed wasn’t too close to the river Thames, at weekends and most evenings before war had been declared, it did a decent enough trade from the surrounding neighbourhood. It was a place where the locals would gather for a chat and catch up with the gossip.

The Den, Millwall Football Club, wasn’t too far away so when there was a home game their taprooms became close to bursting. Since the outbreak of the war, however, those glory days seemed to have dwindled, but there were still enough of the old timers who would come in for a pint and a sing-along around the piano during the evenings.

The pub’s exterior had been sandbagged, and the windows taped to protect against shattering in the event a bomb exploded nearby. At night, the windows and doors would be covered by heavy drapes to ensure no lights could be seen from outside. There would be hell to pay if the Air Raid Precautions, known as the ARP, wardens caught just a slither of light. Though you felt safe behind them when the sirens began their mournful call, only a fool would not take heed of them.

There had been a steady stream of locals coming in for their usual tipple when the pub had opened at lunchtime.

Jean, can you collect some glasses from the tables and give them a wash, please? Albert asked.

As Jean stepped out from behind the bar, the doors opened, and two Red Cross workers entered carrying donation tins.

Good afternoon, one of them said. We are hoping we can get some volunteers to write letters to our boys at the front?

What a lovely idea, Violet said. Jean, you should do something like that. I know you already write letters to your brothers Bert, who is in Singapore, and Don. Goodness knows where the Navy has sent him, but it would be nice for you to write to someone else.

Jean placed several glasses onto the bar and wiped her hands down the front of her apron. I think that is something I could do, Mum. I would love to, in fact, she said. How do I go about it?

Write a letter but keep it short, and send it care of the Red Cross, one of the workers said. We’ll then pass it on to the armed forces for delivery.

What happens if the soldier wants to write back? Jean said.

Well, if you include a return address, and you get a letter back then it is up to you if you want to continue to write.

Violet had begun to clear the tables. Albert disappeared into the cellar to check on the stock.

Have there been many volunteers writing letters? Jean asked as the workers walked amidst the patrons jingling their tins and thanking all who dropped coins into them.

There certainly has been a good turnaround of correspondence as far as we know.

All right then I will definitely write a letter or two, Jean said cheerfully as she stepped behind the bar to resume washing the glasses.

They were getting the place ready for opening again at six-thirty that evening, when at five the air raid sirens blared and the three of them made a hasty exit to their shelter at the bottom of the road under the railway arches.

It wasn’t the first time London had experienced bombing raids. There had been a few earlier the previous month, but somehow this bombing felt different. They had been in the shelter a couple of hours, and the explosions seemed to be all around them. The walls shook. Pieces of masonry and dust fell on edgy people bringing silence amongst the adults and wails from the children.

The raid went on most of the night and when the all-clear sounded no one made