I fear that my dream of returning home to London is comming to a close. Father comes home each day grummbling about something. Every day when I ask him about the days dighe shoots me a frosty stare and sends me away telling me to mind my own bussines and stop being a nosey parker! Ever since we left London he’s never been quite the same old dear that he used to be, blocking out anyone anyone who cares for him. Lucy, dear, don’t tell myther about this as I know it would break her heart. Life is tough here already. Don’t give me any more worries.
No matter how much you pester me I can never give you an honest answer about fathers health as I truley do not know, as for mine the only thing I suffer is loneliness. I have tryed to make friends, really O have but I donb’t have your flair for people. I promise that IU’ll keep on trying but that dosen’t mean a friendship is bound. When I write to you sister, I feel that I can truley let out my thoughts. Thank you.
When I step outside of our tent all I can see is sweaty men, working, away, children, running around, dodging the miners on the fields. I hear the loud clanks of metal andthe occasional cry for joy when I man finds gold. The putrid smell. The dry food .The hot sun beating down on my sunkissed back and my clothes are nowhere near suited for the climate. But thinking of you, mother and all the gold out there, it makes my heart leap for joy.
I’m sorry for the silence, I know I haven’t written for a while but money is a issue. With no gold I fear thatthis may be the last time I write to you. I know that reading this will make your kind heart want to do something but please, sister, I urge you not to. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Stay in London with mother, for comming out here will onlybring you great sorrow. Life for girls here is tough. Please stay.
From your dearest sister