1st February 2010
Port Phillip Prison,
PO Box 376
Laverton, Vic, 3028
I was so glad to receive your last letter. Your handwriting is just as I remember it. I suppose you wont get to see my writing, what with the old Underwood and all. But a letter is enough, isn’t it? It will have to be.
I’m happy to hear things aren’t so bad in there. A mothers mind always thinks the worst, so I’m glad you seem happy at least. The food sounds like it leaves you wanting, but that is okay. There is more to life than food. I don’t find time for cooking much these days. You think I would with all the time to myself, but I just don’t. Maybe I don’t care enough. When you get home I will, I’ll make alll of your favourites. Maybe it is a good thing you don’t have to cook, you never enjoyed it much anyway. Your father always liked my cooking. Not that you would know that. He was long gone before you even had the time to remember him.
I don’t know if that was your fault. It definitely wasn’t your fault. I hope you never thought that it was.
One day we will have to talk about the court case. Would you tell me if you had? Would you meet me if I came to see you? Spill out your secrets to your dear old mother.
I couldn’t look at those girls faces at the court. In fact, I couldn’t really look at yours.
I never could.
I miss you. I wonder if you think of me? Or miss me?
Would you tell me the truth, about all those things they say you did? You didn’t do them, right? You couldn’t have. If you were going to tell someone, you would tell me. I know you would. I am your mother. You would never lie to me. I raised you all by myself and I raised you good and proper.
I will come and see you soon.
And you can tell me the truth and get to the bottom of this mess. I knitted you a scarf. It’s your favourite colour. I hope it keeps you warm at night. Something has to.
Looking forward to your reply.