27th June 1939

Seaview House, Orkney


To Doreen Avery-Shaw

Trevorian House, Cornwall


                                     My Dear Doreen,
                                                     My heart is broken. I know that you don't think much of me but I shall make clear why I write. We are at a crossroads, you and I. Our family awaits our decision with all the innocence of children.

You and I built our family together, but, there is more work to be done. Do you remember what you said to me when we first met? That there would be hard work ahead, obstacles? We both know that life has it's peaks and valleys. We spoke of building something special, something that would last. The strongest force in nature; a family. 

That is why I address you as "my dear". We must re-think our past and choose a different path forward. "Take the road less travelled" as the poet says. The opportunity stills lies before us. I must confess that I miss my family. I miss the children. I miss you. 

I believe that you have misjudged me. Men are, by their very nature, prone to excess. I do not deny that I enjoy a stiff drink every now and then. But that is common to our gender. That is our "yang", our peculiar fervour. It is what enables the world to move upward and it is more prevalent in men of stature like myself. "The good doctor" they have always called me and they will call me that again...soon. You know this to be true.

I have discovered who my patients are now calling upon. It is an Englishman, not an Orcadian nor even a Scotsman. I cannot fathom how these good people would put their trust in such a man. I have met him. He is a most studious fellow and most dull. He is given to endless discourse on the mundane details of the medical profession. He has not one ounce of humour inside his head. He believes only in technique; ignorant to the art of doctoring. I can assure you, a doctor who does not have a solid undercarriage, who does not possess a bedside manner that brings a smile, will never succeed. 

You, above all people, know that bringing a smile to people is the very essence of my character. I was born to it. It will bring me back to my rightful position. The good people of Orkney understand the skills that I possess. They will return. Doreen I beg you to do the same. Bring the children back. Come home. This IS your home. OUR home. Remember what we committed to each other?
Do not go back on your word. 

I await your response with the upmost confidence that you will re-think your actions, admit your mistakes and remember that your life, OUR life, is here. 

                                          Your loving husband,
                                                   Thomas Shaw



13th August 1939

Seaview House, Orkney


To Doreen Avery-Shaw


Trevorian House, Cornwall


                              
                              Mrs. Shaw,
                                               I have come to understand your decision to leave me. I understand my part in our failure. I even know why my patients lost their faith. For the past several weeks I have resisted my temptation to drink. I was completely successful. I convinced myelf I had gained control. The result? I deemed it was time to reward myself, prematurely it turned out, and returned to the very establishment from which my troubles sprang. I though I could share my good fortune with others and raise my glass in a toast to self-control. I awoke the next morning in a stupour. I was lying on something hard, my body at a most peculiar angle. Beneath me I could discern rough-hewn stone of a rectangular design. As my eyes focussed, I could make out green moss between the stone. But upon raising my head, I was surrounded by such a fog that still I could not determine where I was.

And then I heard a sound. It was loud, rushing toward me. It was like the roaring of a waterfall and I trembled in fear. But it was nothing more than the "Ola" going by. I was on our own slipway, my head inches from the water. I raised myself to my knees and discovered that my shirt was covered in blood. I must have fallen during the night and laid there throughout. A feeling of despair overhwlemed me, I stumbled through the garden, into our house, up the stairs. Do you know what I found? Empty beds. The children, their clothes, their books, their belongings...gone. I felt like I had been stabbed through the heart. 
 
I realise now that I am not just an alcoholic. I am a drunk. I have fallen to the lowest rung of our society. I am in the gutter, both literally and metaphorically. My practice is lost. My family gone. My house empty. How slowly time passes. I imagined myself destined for something else. In school my aspiration was to become a historian, a man of intellect, do you remember? I had planned to study Cato, Aristole, Dante. You have your newspapers, you live in the world as it is. I always preferred to dream. To imagine what the world might become. 
 
I have spent today wondering what might happen if you were to return to my side. Could I be your husband again? Father to our children? Could I repair my wrongs? Had you asked me a week ago I would have answered in the affirmative. Today, I do not believe it so. I have always considered your tongue sharp, but it is now dull in comparison to the dagger of my own thoughts. The emptiness around me has now become a prism. Shining directly upon my faults. I alone, am to blame. 
 
Winter is coming, I can feel it in the air. The winds have shifted, the hillside is changing colour. I used to feel a gloom at this time of year, to long for spring. Now, I welcome it. 
 
I shall bother you no more. I remain in our house in Orkney. Only time will determine what shall befall me.
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                                         Your husband,
                                               Thomas Archibald Shaw



20th October 1939

Irving House, Keinton Manderville

Somerset


To Doreen Avery-Shaw

Trevorian House, Cornwall


                           Dear Doreen,
                                              My previous agitation has been dispelled. My enthusiam for life has returned. Nothing could be clearer to me now. I once imagined that I could have my cake and eat it but I realise it cannot be. Perhaps for some, but not for me. One might believe they can have one drink, perhaps two and that will be the end. With me it is not so. 

Many weeks have passed since my last drink. It was on the very day of my previous letter. Since then, I have returned to my earlier temperament. Do you remember what I was like when we met? Do you remember how much you enjoyed me then? I have been ruminating on the twin elements of happiness. Pleasure and satisfaction. I always felt pleasure was its own reward, while you have been satisfied with....well, satisfaction. I believe it is what drives us apart. But I appreciate both now. I beg you to forgive me. I beg you to move back with me. 

Everything has changed. Britain is at war. A ship was sunk in Scapa Flow recently. There are German U-Boats everywhere. There is talk of building causeways across the islands to prevent another such attack. 

I have moved to England. Taken a house in Somerset. You may be interested to know that one of the previous oweners



 
                                                
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