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My lovely Megan






I still haven't received a letter from you. I can't believe it takes four months for letters to cross the Atlantic. What's happened? Is something wrong?

 

Megan sat for hours reading every letter. At the end she felt completely empty and tired and her heart was full of pain. She remembered all the love that she and Huw had felt for each other when they were young. But more than that, she remembered how terribly hurt she had been when no letters had arrived from him. She had spent many nights crying in her room.

Now she realised what her father had done. He had hidden the letters and watched her unhappiness. She knew that her father had thought Huw was not good enough for her, but she never realised he'd been so much against him.

Megan took the letters downstairs. She sat with them beside her, drank a large whisky and then wrote a letter to Huw. She had no idea if he would ever receive it. 'He won't be at the same address after fifty years - he might even be dead, ' she thought to herself. But she knew she had to write.

***

Toronto 1996

'Dad, letter for you, ' shouted Mike Thomas. His father was working in his painting studio at the top of the house.

'OK, Mike, I'll be down in a minute, ' said his father, Huw.

Mike put the letter on the kitchen table, and went back into the garden. It was June and the weather was hot, but there was a light wind.

'Where's the letter then? ' asked Huw Thomas, standing at the door and holding two cans of beer.

'On the table, ' replied his son, taking one of the beers.

Huw picked up the letter and read the postmark 'Tredonald'.

'Wales! ' said Huw in surprise. 'Who's writing to me from there? It's years since I had any news from back home.' Huw still talked about Wales as 'home', although he had lived in Toronto all his adult life.

He saw that the letter was addressed to Huw Thomas, 2300 Ontario Drive, Toronto. That was where he and his lather had lived in their early years in Toronto. Someone there had discovered where he was living now and had re-addressed the letter.

So who was writing to him? He turned the envelope over in his hands several times. Then he took out the letter and read:

Dear Huw

I don't know if this letter will reach you, and I don't really know why I'm writing to you after all these years but...

 

Huw turned to the end of the letter and saw:

 

With best wishes

Megan

 

He couldn't believe it. He turned back to the first words of the letter and read:

 

... after all these years but I've just found your letters to me from Canada, when you first got there. Believe me, this was the first time I'd read them and they made me cry, even after fifty years. I found them in a box of my father's papers. They were unopened.

Huw, I never knew that you'd written to me. I thought your new life in Canada had made you forget me. Now I realise that my father kept your letters. I can still remember asking him if there was any post for me and he always said, 'No, he's forgotten you, my girl. I told you he was no good.' Finally, after about a year, I believed him.

But why did he keep the letters? Do you think he wanted me to find them when it was too late? Anyway, he's dead now so I can't ask him. All I can say is I'm sorry. Sorry for what my father did, sorry that you never heard from me, and sorry for... everything.

I hope that at least this letter reaches you. Of course, I'll understand if you don't want to write back to me, but if you do, I am still Megan Jenkins and I still live at the same, uldress in Tredonald.


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