Dear Sir, - Wallace Stort's recent excellent story has moved me to write of my own experience.
In the summer of 1928 I took my holiday on a small farm in North Devon. I had spent two previous holidays there, and was treated almost as one of the family.
I arrived by car at noon on a beautiful summer day, and after lunch the farmer, George West, asked me if I would do him a great favour. In response to my enquiry as to what was required, the farmer explained that a niece, a Miss Olive West, was due to arrive from London at Lynton Station at four o'clock, and that he was unable to meet her owing to urgent business. He was anxious that she should be met, as it was her first visit, and more particularly because she was handicapped by the loss of a leg. Would I be so kind to deputise for him?
I agreed, and enquired as calmly as I could whether the girl would be on crutches or use an artificial leg. He did not know, but thought I should have no difficulty in recognising her, as she was 20 years old and fair and pretty. Even if she wore an artificial leg there should be no difficulty.
On the way to the station I cooled down a bit. After all, the girl would probably be wearing an artificial leg, which would spoil things for me. However, in due course the train arrived, and I watched expectantly. From one of the small carriages at the rear of the train I saw a neat feminine figure alight, supported by crutches. As I approached, a downward glance showed that below her then fashionable short skirt only one shapely leg appeared, her left leg. Closer inspection showed that she was indeed a queen among monopedes, quite the prettiest one-legged girl I had ever seen, attractively dressed and with a most charming figure, too. Pulling myself together, I introduced myself and explained matters.
I directed her to the car amid the curious stares of the other holiday makers, and we drove safely back to the farm. She chatted merrily on the way, and in spite of my nervous excitement, I fell in with her mood and soon felt as though I had known her for years.
Olive used a single crutch for dinner that evening, and it fascinated me to see the sensuous grace with which she clung to it. After dinner George showed her round the farm and I sat in a deck chair outside the house awaiting her return. After a while she returned. I immediately asked her to come for a short drive.
"Oh, thanks," she exclaimed, "I should very much like to run down to Lee Bay for a swim. It's on the late side, and I don't suppose there will be many people to stare at me. Perhaps you would bathe too."
We obtained our things and took the seats in the car, and I asked her:
"As we shall be seeing a good deal of each other during the next fortnight, may I call you Olive? My name is Fred."
"Yes, Fred," she smilingly responded, "You may, if you wish it; but you are not to feel under any obligation towards me."
"If you will let me take you out every day, I shall be only too pleased," was my reply.
We arrived at Lee Bay, and before I could help, Olive had jumped from the car. I was in time, however, to adjust her crutch under her right armpit, for which service she thanked me with her delightful and provocative smile. We made our way over the beach to the rocks, which then provided all there was in the way of bathing-hut accommodation.
On reaching the rocks, she handed me her crutch, so as to be able to use both hands in scrambling over them. We found convenient spots, and separated to undress. Soon I heard her voice enquiring if I was ready and, on my replying that I was, I turned to see her standing on a nearby rock.
She wore a regulation costume, which served to accentuate the beautiful lines of her figure.
I helped her down to the sea and insisted on carrying her in, although she protested her ability to hop. That was the first of many thrilling experiences with the girl who is now my wife.
I will not extend this letter further, since Wallace Stort in his story explained accurately and more ably than I can the life of a one-legged wife.
With the best wishes for the New Year the New Year,
Yours truly,
Roy The Second.