Sherriff was still in camp (although suspecting they might be moved at any moment), and, as he told his mother, was taking a respite from working party duty, while sitting on his valise in his tent, enjoying the beautiful weather. The previous evening he had gone into a nearby town to do some shopping (‘consisting of a walking stick, 2 pairs of bootlaces, a magazine and some leather polish’), and he and his companion had bumped into a friend of his – a hut-mate from his time in Gidea Park with the Artists Rifles. They had all gone on to a restaurant together and ‘had quite a pleasant little evening bringing back old times’.

Sherriff (second left) digging trenches while in Gidea Park with the Artists Rifles, June 1916. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/6/4/1/21)

He had obviously received letters from both his mother and Pips which had been optimistic about the chances of him coming home on leave: ‘I am afraid, dear,’ he wrote to his mother, ‘you are much too optimistic – as Pips is – about my leave.’ He apologised if he had given a false impression: ‘I am sorry you are much too optimistic about my leave, and I really had no intention of making you think it anything as likely as you suggest’ he told Pips.

To make matters worse, he was coming to the view that his chances of a speedy leave were now gone, since he had ‘reasons for believing a lot of work is to be done shortly, and I am afraid all leave will be stopped’. He was bitterly disappointed and knew they would be too, but ‘philosophy is the only thing to fall back upon – it is simply fate and it is not the slightest use being grieved at what fate decides’. Although there was still a faint glimmer of hope, it was so small that it would be ‘an absolute deception to try and make anything of it’.

There was nothing worse, he felt, than hopes which are dashed, especially those which have grown gradually over time: ‘It is sometimes almost heart-breaking to raise one’s hopes and then to have to let them fall again reluctantly but necessarily’. He felt especially sorry for Pips, whose expectations had obviously been driven by Sherriff’s own hopes, and he regretted having ever mentioned the possibility that he might be allowed home soon. But, knowing his father’s character, he knew that he would be in agreement ‘as to the utter uselessness of being grieved against fate’, and would take his disappointment calmly. To his mum he simply counselled patience: ‘So now, dear, do not be disappointed if I don’t come – just bear quietly for the time to arrive which I hope and trust will not be too long’.

[Next letter: 4 June]