Pocket watch and roses with script banner

Mam says I'm to stop writing these letters before the post goes, so this is the last one I'll put in tonight. The Palais was packed again. Every fellow in uniform had a girl on his arm and every girl had lipstick she'd saved three weeks for. Dot Hennessy danced with a Canadian who trod on her hem twice, and she laughed through the whole foxtrot. I kept my eye on the clock above the bandstand the way you taught me, counting the minutes to the last waltz.

Your watch is in my coat pocket. I took it out at half past eight and held it up to the lamp, the way you do, and the little hands had stopped at a quarter to nine. Dad's watch always ran slow, and you swore you'd have it right by the spring, and now I can't bear to wind it or to leave it alone. Mr Pryce at the jeweller's says the mainspring has gone soft and he'd want a fortnight.

Sergeant Bell said something tonight that stuck with me. He reckons you can't know what you'd live for until you've seen what you'd die for. I told him that was a cruel thing to say to a girl in a dance hall, and he said it was only a line his mother kept on a card by the kettle. I've decided it's a lie, so I'm sending you the watch anyway. Keep it going, and come back and wind it yourself.

Ada