Tree and quote on a forearm

The big top came down on Tuesday in a wet field outside Shepton Mallet, and it took four men and the last of the petrol money to fold it. Mr Ashdown sold the ponies to a farm near Wells. He kept the old bill for the ring, though, the one with my name spelled wrong, and he says we open again in April if the council lets us have the meadow by the river.

You asked in your last letter whether I miss it. I don't miss the sawdust or the cold feet on the wire. I miss the elm behind the winter quarters at Bodmin, the one I climbed when I was nine and nobody could fetch me down. From the top you could see the chimneys, the church, and a grey strip of sea, and I thought that was the whole world. I carved a line into the bark with my penknife, all in lower case because I was too young to bother with capitals: i climbed the tree to see the world. Then I felt so silly I tried to scratch it out with my thumbnail. It's probably still there if nobody has cut the tree down.

I went back on the coach yesterday. The elm is standing, but someone has fenced it off for new houses, and there is a board with a painted pint glass on it. I stood by the wire for an hour. A boy about your age came and sat on the bottom branch and looked at me as though I were the odd one out.

I didn't tell him to come down. I told him to hold tight and look east, where the sun comes up over the chimneys. Write soon and tell me what you can see from your window.

Your loving sister, Nell