Loving True-Life
I had the surprise of my life when a builder knocked on my door…
Marjory Day, 89, from Dunfermline
Popping the kettle on, I heard a knock at the door behind me.
After putting my teabag in the mug, I walked over to the door and opened it.
In front of me stood a tradesman holding a huge box.
‘Hi Marjory, I’m Alistair,’ he began. ‘Morris said these might belong to you.’
Morris was my granddaughter Sara’s husband and had been working with Alistair, fitting windows in a loft.
‘What have you got there?’ I asked him.
Handing me the box, Alistair smiled brightly.
‘We found some letters in the house we were working on,’ he answered. ‘They are all addressed to you.’
It was our old family home – we had moved from there in the ‘70s and a new family had lived there ever since.
Pulling the lid off, I couldn’t wait to see what was inside.
But then, I paused.
I recognised that handwriting and the green pen in which the letters were penned.
I knew who it was.
‘I think they’re from David,’ I could barely whisper.
David was my beloved husband who had sadly passed away a few years before.
It knocked me for six – I had never expected to see these letters ever again.
They were beautiful love letters, a reminder of David’s time in the Navy back in the ‘50s and ‘60s.
When we had moved from the old house, I thought I had lost them or they’d been thrown out.
‘I thought these had gone forever,’ I said.
Opening the letters, I was transported back to ‘50s Edinburgh, where I met David.
I attended a dance at the Kinema Ballroom with a friend and it was here David caught my eye.
He was ever so handsome! And what’s more, he didn’t even know it.
I had spotted him sitting by the bar and immediately wanted to get to know him.
Approaching him nervously, I asked for a dance.
‘I don’t really like dancing,’ said the handsome stranger.
‘Oh, come on!’ I teased. ‘You know you want to.’
David wasn’t much of a dancer, but he did that night, just for me.
From that night on we had been inseparable, even moving in together the next day, with my son Raymond, who was two at the time.
David always treated Raymond like his own.
My mother didn’t approve at first – she spotted his sailor uniform and strongly disapproved.
Even though my father was in the Navy, she thought sailors could be quite cheeky.
But our love for each other was too strong.
We were married in the ‘50s and soon after I ga
