Dear Ed, I do not know if this letter will ever reach you. I do not know if I can forgive you enough to send it. It pains me just to call you dear again. The child was born a few nights ago. I will not tell you its name or sex. You are not its Pa. Everyone at service has a way of spreading rumours, you will know its name one day, but at least all your skeletons are concealed. I miss service, I miss feeling Him. I do not know if I miss you. I spoke with Chesna the other day, says you're off to Trentham for training come the new year. I suppose that's why I'm writing. It will be a long while before I see your face in town. You may leave for military camp but you will be back. No one gets out of here for long. You may pray for the child, but do not pray for me. You have your convictions, and I have mine. Do not ring up Ma and Pa, I do not live there anymore. Father probably told you that already. Pip