Donât Sit Under The Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me
Dear Laurie,
I promised Iâd write when I got settled, so youâre to leave off any fussing about how long it took to hear from me. Itâs not as if youâve kept the postman terribly busy yourselfâIâd worry except what little Iâve gotten from you features your regular scrawl and enough slang to make my great-aunt turn red as a summer tomato. This warâs a funny thing but I must admit I feel better to be doing my part beyond tending a Victory Garden or collecting scrap metal. I know youâll understand that I maynât share every detail. Iâve been in a good temper since I got here, which means Iâve been able to play to my strengths and thereâs plenty of good hot coffee.
Youâll want to hear something more than that. I suppose it makes the most sense to tell you about the girls Iâm working with, since I know youâre sure to be curious about whoâs listening to Joâs nonsense now that youâre not about. I spent the most time with three other girls and in fact, even in this short amount of time, weâve become something like sistersâsquabbling and sharing and generally being found together when itâs time for a meal. I share my room with Meg and if I tell you sheâs far more glamourous than Iâll ever be, I know youâll shout with laughter, for whoâd ever find me glamourous in the least? In any case, Megâs one of those girls whose stocking seams are always straight, whoâs always got a neat pair of gloves and a darling little hat cocked over one eye that would look positively silly perched on my short crop. Sheâs neat and particular and sheâs apt to rein in my exuberance when it might get in the way of breaking sorting out the latest assignment. Iâm certain the fellows at Harvard would love to squire her at a dance and sheâd never spill a drop of punch.Â
Amyâs so full of Southern charm you might be forgiven for thinking sheâs an Atlanta belle, when she hails from Philadelphiaâs Main Line. Sheâs every bit the snob but somehow, I canât mind it, for itâs such fun to tease her about it. Itâs also a bit of a ruse, as her true passion is artâsheâd planned to go abroad before the war and she does quite the most amusing little sketches of everyone in her spare time. If youâre lucky, Iâll ask her if sheâll draw one of me to send along to you. She and Meg are two peas in a pod when it comes to prettifying, though Amyâs more in the line of Veronica Lake.
Bethieâs the last member of our quartet and Laurie, sheâs the kindest, sweetest girl and I suspect the brainiest of us all, for youâd never think such a homebody would end up where we are, all clattering away at our typewriters. She spends her free time knitting or playing the latest songs on the beat-up piano they have for us in what they call our sitting room. Sheâs the kind of girl who ought to have a kitten in her lap, too soft-spoken for her own good, and it took our supervisor one afternoon to figure out that even the slightest correction was like a hammer coming down on her. (It took another afternoon for our supervisor Miss March to learn Iâm made of far tougher stuff, too stubborn by half, and that no subtly raised eyebrow was likely to make a smidge of difference with me!)
Iâve got to runâthey need us to put in odd hours now and again and itâs best for you not to ask me, as itâs best for me not to ask them. Do let me know how youâre getting on as much as youâre able. I hope it wonât be too long before weâre back home, taking in the Charlie Chan double feature at the Odeum, eating enough Sno-Caps and Cracker Jack to spoil our dinners. Iâll race you home, Laurie, see if I wonâtâ
Your pal,
Jo
*
Dear John,
I was so glad to receive your last letterâyou canât imagine how worried I was, it had been weeks since Iâd gotten one from you and then just today, it arrived and I saw youâd written it three weeks ago. I only hope that youâve been safe in the meantime or that tomorrow, the girls here will burst out laughing when I get another half-dozen. I know you canât say much about where you are and my work, typing away, isnât especially interesting. I find myself spending half my time in memories, remembering how we met at the library, where you were so patiently tutoring that freshman Larry, who hardly paid you any mind, and I dropped my glove and you gave it back the next time I came to change my book though the librarian Miss Plumfield glowered at us so horribly. I remember being so impressed that you remembered me and you were so kind about my dusty stack of books, insisting on carrying them for me to the circulation desk. I remember how you found me working on my mathematics and told me it was a pleasure to see someone dedicated to their studies, instead of telling me not to busy my head about such things or that Iâd got better things to do. I remember that first time we went to the soda fountain and you had black coffee and paid for my maple walnut sundae and I knew, John, that you hadnât two cents to rub together but youâd spent them both on me. I remember how you asked if you could steal a kiss when you walked me back to Bertram Hall and I told you it didnât need to be stolen, Iâd give it to you for free and how you smiled and kissed my hand. If you asked me today, I wouldnât wait for you to kiss my handâI wouldnât miss my chance to give you a real kiss.
The girls here would hardly believe proper Meg Bronson, always the first to point out unladylike behavior, would write such a forward letter as this, but I find I canât help myself. I worry about you day and night, John, and I keep you in my prayers. Iâm sending along a photograph as you askedâAmy, one of the girls here and so artistically inclined, took it and it was her idea for me to hold the daisy. I donât imagine itâll keep you safe but I hope youâll like to have it anyway.
Sincerely
Best wishes
Yours,
Meg
*
Dear Hannah-cat (and Marmee),
I hope youâve been getting plenty of milk and that Marmee has kept her promise and given you at least one sardine a week. I know how finicky you are about your meals and how loudly youâll meow if you donât get what you want. Iâm being fed well enough, which Marmee will worry about, not you, Hannah-cat, and Iâm just about managing my homesickness, which I never thought I should. That last partâs mostly owed to some of the girls. Weâve made a sort of foursome, organized by a great tall funny girl named Jo, whoâs always scribbling something when weâre not at work and has ink on her fingers and uses the latest slang until it makes Amy scold. Amyâs a deb from Philadelphia and she and I share a room. Sheâs quite generous with her things, though I know I donât care a bit about ribbons and nail polish. Meg lives with Jo and she sometimes acts like the mother of us all or maybe, more like our big sister. Sheâs the one to remind your absent-minded Bethie to put on galoshes when it rains and sees that I finish my meals while Jo is making me laugh âtil I get tears in my eyes, telling the most hair-raising stories, they kind youâd find in the pulps. Sheâs even talked about writing a play for us to perform for the other girls, âAlas for Zara,â and Iâm to provide the music. It was a wrench to come here but I know Iâm doing my duty and thatâs only fair, when you think of what the boys are called to do and where theyâve got to go. And no one here has teased even the littlest bit about how much I like doing crossword puzzles, which makes up for the fact that the only piano is sadly out of tune. I donât think the other girls notice, as long as I play everyoneâs favorite song. I miss you, Hannah-cat, and Marmee, and dear gruff Grandpa James. Please send all my love and best wishes to Mrs. Hummel and all the little Hummels and please do make sure Hannah-cat gets a sardine now and then.
With all my love,
Bethie
*
Dear Flo,
I said Iâd do it and I didâIâve gotten a job working as a typist for the Navy! Itâs nothing splendid and Iâm sure nearly every other girl here is a better typist than I am, but do tell your father I appreciate whatever strings he pulled on my behalf, because if I had to stay home with Mother and Great-Aunt Marcia for one more day, I donât think I could have borne it. Being a deb with all the best young men abroad as officers and so many old men expecting to be fawned over simply for having a chest full of medals reeking of polishâwell, if I couldnât spend the next year studying painting in Paris, the way Great-Aunt Marcia had promised, Iâd rather do something other than simper at dances and pretend Iâve got nothing between my ears but cotton fluff.Â
Miss March, our supervisor, has said my facility with languages is a godsend, so Iâll have to mail a pretty little note of thanks to Mlle. Valnor and let her know that all her hours spend teaching me French and German and Italian werenât wasted in the slightest. I still have her old rosary, hanging from the mirror in my room, but Bethie, the girl I live with, was nice enough not to ask impertinent questions about whether Iâm Catholic. Sheâs a dear, Bethie, one of those girls whoâs shy and turns pink around even the least impressive boy and sheâs an absolute wiz doing a crossword puzzle. She and two other girls, Jo and Meg, and I take our meals together ever since the day we were set up in a row with our typewriters, all clattering away at the same time like a noisy little quartet at the kind of nightclub Mother and Great-Aunt Marcia would prefer I never know about.
Iâm sure youâre wondering whether Iâve heard from Fred Vaughan and I canât say that I have, but I donât think writing to me would rank very high with all heâs got to do as an RAF officer. That I do know. It was only that one summer at Newport, Flo, no matter what you say and with his brother ill, we were thrown together. I do hope heâs keeping wellâthe news from England always seems rather grim and Fred certainly wasnât ever grim himself. No matter what happens, Iâll always remember him laughing as he tried to teach me the barest rudiments of sailing.
Iâve got to run, but if youâre able, it would be lovely to have you send some more of my things. That darling blue hat with the veil and another Tangee would do me a treat. Thereâs not much spare time for us girls, but one does want to show to advantage if a likely looking officer is about. Thereâs just something about a man in uniform!
Bisousâ
Amy
