Matching key tattoos with His Only and Her Only

The gate is still sticking at the bottom, so I have left the big key in the lock and the wicket open for the wind to come through. Mr Pargeter at the forge says the wards are worn, not the bolt, and he will not make a new one for less than a week's wages, which I told him was daylight robbery. I have decided to tend the roses instead.

You will laugh, but the crown on the bow is the thing I keep looking at. The locksmith in Frome cut the pair from one blank the spring you proposed, and he had only room on the bows for a crown and a few letters. I told him to put His Only on yours and Her Only on mine, and he looked at me as if I had asked for a second moon. He did it anyway, with the little file he used for watch keys.

This morning the frost was on the lavender and the bees had not woken. I went down the path with the trowel and found the gate swung wide, and beyond it the lane was empty, the milk cart long gone. Someone had tied a length of red ribbon round the iron scroll, as if the garden were a parcel. I did not untie it.

Come home when the sea lets you. I will keep the gate open a little, and the key where you left it, on the nail by the shed door. Tell the boys the rhubarb is coming up under the straw.

Yours, Ada