Page 12 of Spellbinding Spirit

1 May 1915

Dear Sally,

Another week down though it feels like it’s been months. The noise here is something else. Guns going off at all hours, and the shells... when they hit you can feel it in your bones. The ground shakes like it’s alive. Sometimes I catch myself shaking too. Try not to let the lads see but it’s hard, my love. It’s really hard.

I’ve been thinking about when we walked up to Grizedale Tarn last summer. You remember? You made me promise we’d do it again, and I said I’d take you to Derwentwater next time. I think about that a lot. About you, standing there grinning like you’d conquered the world. I hold onto that memory like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat.

I also can’t forget our night on Valentine’s Day. It was perfect and if I don’t make it out of this, I am just glad we at least had this one night. One night where we just belonged to each other.

Still no letter from you but I reckon it’s the post. They say letters go missing all the time out here. But I’ll keep writing. Helps me stay sane, talking to you like this.

All my love, George.

I glance up at Sebastian as I fold the letter. His jaw is tight and he’s staring into the middle distance. “You alright?” I ask softly.

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Just... hard to hear, isn’t it? He’s trying so hard to stay brave, but you can tell it’s eating him up inside.”

“He’s holding on to her,” I say. “It’s all he’s got.”

Sebastian nods, and for a moment neither of us speaks. Finally I pick up another letter. “Next one. 15thof May.”

15 May 1915

Dear Sally,

Things have gotten worse here. The air’s been thick with this awful yellow fog the last few days. Burns your throat and your eyes. The officers say it’s gas and we’ve been given cloths to wet and hold over our mouths, but it don’t do much. Lads are coughing, some worse than that. Every day feels heavier, like we’re walking through tar.

My love, you’re my light in all this dark. I don’t know how much more I can take but I close my eyes and see your face, and it keeps me going. I know I’ve not heard from you but I’ve decided it don’t matter. It’s enough just to imagine you reading these letters, maybe smiling like you do.

I’ve got to believe this’ll end someday and when it does we’ll be back in Fellside, just like we said. I’ll take you to Derwentwater, my love. I’ll take you anywhere you want.

Always yours, George.

When I finish I realise my voice is trembling slightly. I fold the letter carefully and settle it back in the chest with the others. Sebastian is silent with an unreadable expression. He carefully picks up the last letter Sally ever received and reads it aloud.

George’s joy of hearing from Sally is apparent through his words. But so are the terrors of the war. It becomes clear that the situation he was in felt like hell and he expected to die, but what kept him going were his memories of Sally.

“They never got to take that trip, did they?” Sebastian says quietly after he finishes the letter.

“No,” I say, my throat tight. “They didn’t.”

The room feels heavy, the weight of those letters pressing down on both of us. And then Sebastian shifts closer, his arm brushing mine. “They deserved better,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” I whisper, looking at him. “They did.”

For a moment, we just sit there, the space between us charged with something unspoken. And then he leans in, his lips brushing mine. It’s soft and tentative at first but then his hand cups my face and he deepens it, all the years of tension and unspoken feelings pouring into that one kiss.

When we finally pull back we’re both breathless. Sebastian chuckles softly, his forehead resting against mine. “This time it definitely was me,” he murmurs.

I laugh, though my chest feels like it might burst. “What are we doing?”

“Dealing with old ghosts,” he chuckles.

I swat at his arm because I know perfectly well he’s not talking about Sally and George. But what happened years ago… we agreed back then to move on and ignore it. But did we ever really move on? We’ve both been famously single, dating now and then but never anything serious. Sometimes I wonder if it’s ghosts from our past that are holding us back.

“Let’s get ready for the night,” I say, acting as if the kiss never happened. What’s a little more pretending anyway?

Chapter 6

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