I think this is the first letter I have ever written to you. I’ve often wanted to write to you when I couldn’t bear it any longer. I’ve often nearly started and then I haven’t dared. I don’t know why I do now except that Martin dying does make me feel rather desperate. I’ve nobody now and he was allways nice to me. I think he guessed a little but never said. I could allways rely on him. I didn’t think unhappiness could ever last like this. I’ve had it for years and I’ve allways thought, well it must get better soon, something nice would happen, but it seems to get worse and worse and I must just get used to it now. Don’t you think there must be a Devil to account for all the damned misery in the world, I do. What am I to do with myself, I haven’t got anybody. If I beleived in God ever listening to us and minding what happened to us Id say it was him telling me to write to you, because it came to me last night all in a flash I must do it, I should be sort of saved if I did. I was deciding to kill myself but once Ive written all this out I dont think Ill want to. Ill go away and never see any of you again but Ill go on living. What Im writing to you about is this. Will you take Peter and look after him--you will do it better than me, and you love him and you have always thought I didn’t know how to look after him. I expect its true. I feel very helpless and worried about him. I hated it when he was born, I didnt want him. I never ought to have married Charlie, you told me so, and then to have the baby--it meant I could never forget the awfull mistake and poor Charlie, and I wanted to forget him. I thought I could never love Peter--I _hated_ him at first--me to have a baby of all things, but after a bit I began to love him, he was so sweet, and instead of making me remember miserable things he seemed to be going to make up for everything and I thought perhaps I should be happy after all, bringing him up. And then that day you came back on leave and saw him when he was a baby I saw how you looked at him and I knew you were going to love him too. And I thought, if he cares for Peter perhaps he will like me better, but instead of that you seemed to dislike me more. I understand why of course. You couldn’t help loving him for himself and because he was Charlies, but because he was mine too you couldn’t help allways remembering the gastly quarell whenever you saw him with me. Thats why you wanted to have him to yourself away from me and allways told everybody I couldn’t look after him and oughtnt to have had a baby. You did tell everybody didn’t you? Poor little Peter I suppose it was true because bit by bit I got jealous of him. Oh what a devil I felt being jealous of my own son. And I adored him too but I couldnt