The Second World War: PART 3 - Sophie Moss - London (1945)
I’ve begun this diary to chronicle the events of my life after the War.
Now that the War is over I feel like I know nothing. This I did not expect to happen. My dream hasn’t, and most likely will not, come true. Roger hasn’t returned like so many others, although he promised me he would.
I’ve waited, for nigh on six years, and now, I know I can’t wait much longer. I have no clue as to what he’s doing, who he’s with or, dread the thought, that he’s even alive. His family know nothing, he hasn’t written to them before arriving in Germany. Nobody knows anything. His sister Eileen, who happens to be three years my junior, has married. I am thirty-five now and don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for something that is never going to happen.
In one of Roger’s earlier letters, he informed me of his intention to propose on the day he left for France. It nearly killed me.
My Mother has stuck her oar in and has prepared a suitor. I am to dine with him this coming Saturday. I love Roger, that I do, and will always love him, but I feel like my life, our relationship, whatever you’d call it, has come to a complete standstill. He hasn’t written to me in nigh on a year. I hope he’s on his way back, wherever he is.
As for now, I will be going on this date, afternoon tea at the Savoy, my favourite. I will cross my T’s and dot my I’s in Mr. Turner’s company, bid him farewell and ask for a lift home, should he want to see me again I may oblige. Roger has, and always will, have a part of my heart no matter.
Wish me luck!