I'm back! I apologize for my almost-year of absence. I just finished my freshman year of college and I got too involved on campus! Silly me. Anyway, in my spare time, I'm re-watching all of Foyle's War and it motivated me to keep writing this. Who else is excited that the series is coming back next year? I FREAKING AM. Without further ado, the chapter! *Cue majestic music*

Dear Andrew,

It's nearly December and looking more and more likely that I'll be home for Christmas. Don't count on it, though. I'll let you know when I'm absolutely certain, but it seems that my business here will soon be concluded. How do you like your job? Somehow, I just can't see you doing desk work. That may be because I saw very little of it when you were a student, in school in Hastings… or at Oxford! But I don't much feel like chastising you for past immaturity at the moment. The holiday spirit must have come early.

America is very, very cold. I'm not sure whether it's Christmas cheer or longing for home, actually. I do hope you'll keep me abreast of any goings-on I should be aware of in London. International news here isn't much up to my standards, but it seems like there's always something happening here to keep the press occupied enough.

However, the press on those military tribunals in Germany wasn't hard to miss. Finally, the Nazis are going to get some of what they deserve. It's not ALL they deserve, of course, but that kind of justice is something neither you, nor I, nor any policeman or politician on earth can decide.

What would you like for Christmas? You know I've never been good at guessing things you want so I'm going to dispence with secrecy altogether. Since I'm in a foreign country, would you like something American? No requests for weapons or planes, please; but I do want to know. All I can think of right now is a jumper or a book. And if you are any son of mine, the jumper won't be to your liking and the book will be too dull for you. Tell me as soon as you think of something.



P.S. On second thought, I ought to just buy myself a jumper, regardless of what you want. I'm old and cold and I dearly miss good English wool.

Dear Andrew,

Just a short note, I'm afraid. Something dreadful has happened: Adam has broken off our engagement. I felt quite upset about it for some time, but now I just feel alone, even with my parents. Do, please, come down for Christmas on, say, the 21st… that is, if you haven't got any other plans. My parents are ever so eager to meet you. I think they don't believe I have any friends. At the moment, that feels just about right.

Write back as quick as you can with your answer. I hope London is treating you well.



Dear Sam,

Of course I'll come for Christmas! It's not like I've got urgent plans to spend time with their majesties the King and Queen…

I'm dreadfully sorry to hear about Adam's decision. Never liked him much, to be straight with you. I always thought he was an odd chap. Bollocks, that sounded rather crass. I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when I come down, if you like. It's very generous of your parents to invite me to stay, so please tell them I appreciate it very much. The 21st sounds fine.

There may be one problem, though… I'm not sure whether my dad's been in touch lately, but there seems to be a possibility that he'll be home in time for Christmas. But he said not to get my hopes up, and he'll let me know as soon as it's settled. Actually, he probably told you. But in case he didn't, now you know. If he will be back in time, we'll do something else. You could come over to our house and cook supper, for instance.



P.S. Sam, I'm no good at the niceties of life. What does a houseguest bring as a present? Fruitcake? Yorkshire pudding? Tea leaves? Help!


Dear Mr Foyle,

It's all settled! Andrew is coming down to stay with me and my parents for Christmas on the 21st. He's being jolly organized about this whole holiday business, in fact. If you get back in Hastings in time, he says he'll change his plans and just stay home with you. He suggested an alternative: I come over and cook for you both (presumably leaving my parents alone for the holidays). What a charming young man your son is!

Speaking of charming (or not-so-charming) young men, Adam broke off our engagement. He said some utter rubbish: "We're totally incompatible… we don't see eye-to-eye… we're very different people and we want different things…" etc. etc. etc. It's all very confusing, sir. I'm ashamed to say that I lost my temper and shouted at him. Then he shouted at me and called me a goose. He said I'm silly and he can't bear to be with me. I told him I couldn't bear to be with him, because if I'm a goose, I need a gander, and since he thinks he's so high and mighty, we AREN'T going to make a good couple. And then I stormed out of his house. But I forgot my mittens, so I had to go back and get them. That was rather humiliating.

Since then, he wrote me a note of apology, but I'm not quite sure it changes anything. Andrew says we'll have a good talk about it when he comes to stay. It'll be wonderful to talk to someone my own age. My parents were very sympathetic, but there's only so many hugs and kisses I can take.

As we don't know your estimated date of arrival back in Mother England, I'll close by just saying I hope you'll return soon.