Below you will find a letter written in 1939 from Frank Baker to his love Isabel.
Taken from a collection of letters between Frank and Isabel Baker of Mitcham, lifelong Labour supporters and committed socialists, whose relationship was strained by WW2 and Isabel’s politics moving towards communism. The early letters are written by Frank during his time as a teacher escorting evacuees away from South London. Later, after they married, Frank joined the Army and the letters show, not only their struggle with their differing political views but also the pressure they were under having to spend the first years of their married life apart.
Full transcript below.
File 7934/131
Beech Grove
Mitcham
3.0a.m 14th July 1939.
Dearest Isabel
You will see from the date I have given above that I have not been able to get to sleep, partly because it is hot, partly because the events of this evening left me feeling rather excited, but chiefly because of you, mi querida.
I am rather slow in understanding, evidently. We said “Good night” quite pleasantly to each other when I left you, but I could not help feeling something was wrong with me after I had gone. It struck me what it was when I reached my digs. – You were quite pleasant Isabel, but in the same way as a clay model might be – I realised there was something wrong then. I realised you did not even ask me what Stradwick said. You showed no interest in me at all, but most in telling that you would be out on Saturday and that you were not keen about going to Godstone on Sunday. I racked my brains to discover why you were like that. I thought of my remarks about Gautrey and Kay and fancied you were annoyed because I had seemed anxious to see them. I concluded then if you were angry because I phoned for so long, or because of something I had said to him or because I did not tell you straight away what he did say – last of all I thought about to-morrow (or rather to-night).
My first idea was to take no notice and let you do what you like, but I feel I can’t do that. Then I made up my mind to write and tell you that if you cannot act like a grown-up person, you had better say so, that I might know the worst – I cannot do that either Dear. Don’t you see Isabel, I always try to be frank and straight with you. If you do not like something I do, don’t you see it would be much better for you to say so instead of leading me to think you do not care, and then being annoyed when I take you at your word. After thinking things over I have come to the conclusion it is because I shall not be going on the outing to-night that you are acting as you are. Now Isabel I have to told you I am willing to give up all my politics for you if necessary. If you had asked me to refrain from attending the Labour Party meeting I would have done so.
Now I am sorry but after all that thought I cannot help feeling (I hope I am wrong, but do not think so) that the Saturday outing and the lack of enthusiasm for Sunday are your idea for paying me out. That will be just hurting both of us more still. I did offer to go down to meet you, to leave the meeting early, but to all my proposals you said “no it will be quite all right” or words to that effect, as if trying to reassure me that you did not mind me going to the Labour Party meeting.
I hate writing to you like this ever Isabel. You know I love you, but even if I did not, I should hate more than anything to be unfriendly. I do hate being unfriendly with anyone, but after the times we have had together, I should hate being unfriendly with you more than anything I can imagine.
You will be returning to your house for tea I presume, and will find this letter then. I will try either to call and see you or phone before you go off to Sutton. Please, Isabel, whatever happens be natural. I don’t mind so much if you grumble or tell me off – but speaking and feeling differently I cannot understand in you. That is not clear I am afraid, - I mean I cannot understand why you should say one thing when you feel quite another if you are speaking to me. Isabel my dear I have put my feelings as clearly as I can. I hope I do not appear to be hard on you – I have tried not to be – Make allowances for me will you?
Now I wanted to finish up without any grumbling, for I am sure you will understand me, and we will be happy and contented again. I will say then, au revoir Cherie.
With my love
Frank.
P.S. I have your photograph smiling at me from the mantle-piece. Look like you do in that next time I see you. It is too late now for me to go to-morrow isn’t it?