All our lost loves in one tragic story

IT’S ONE of the strangest letters I’ve ever had — lacking date and address, but full of heartfelt sadness.

It told the story of a first love between two teenagers (let’s call them Phil and Mary) who went out for 18 months long ago, before Mary ended it because he wanted to marry at 19 but she wanted a career.

Phil, a policeman, begged her to relent, to no avail. Brokenhearted he married another girl on the rebound — and a few months later was tragically killed in the line of duty.

Many years passed. Mary married a good man, enjoyed her job, had children, was happy. But recently she was clearing the ‘junk’ room when she found an envelope containing photographs of Phil, plus two of his desperate love letters. Then all her youthful passion was triggered once more, and the pain of loss.

Now here is the strange thing. Mary can’t bring herself to destroy these mementos, but can’t hide them or talk about them. So she has sent them to me ‘for safe-keeping’.

Here in my hand are three old (from 1970?), black-and-white pictures of such a handsome young man, and a yellowed colour snap of Mary and Phil touching noses, gazing into each other’s eyes, plus two little letters saying he will love her for ever.

Here I cradle the doomed love of strangers, a little story which invokes all our lost loves — and it has made me very melancholy.

But this too saddens me — the fact that Mary did not turn to the husband she loves and show him, sharing her old sorrow, to be comforted. Why not?

There is no shame or infidelity in this story; just two young people fated not to be together — and one destined to die.

Truly, I would tell my husband everything and know he would listen. So why can’t Mary? What stops people confiding in each other?

And what can I do with these relics? Only sadly consign them (in time) to healing flames, with a blessing.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow G2 6DB, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.