Looking back on everything I’ve said to you in the last few months it occurs to me that I haven’t a shred of dignity left in the world. (You know, I think I did once have a kind of dignity, in spite of being dumpy & silly-looking.) I wish I still had a little.
Friday 12 July Darling, you should see Nurse’s Air Force Hanger-On standing sentinel at the gate while she’s pinning the last curl in place – (Tides – Seasons – Armies must wait while Nurse pins her curls into place. She has no Uncertain Opinion about her looks. She bought a new cotton dress the other day & came into my room to show it to me. I was wearing my blue & white checked dress at the time, & I remarked that hers was very much more attractive than mine. ‘It all depends on who wears a dress,’ she said, tossing her head. ‘Now you might look very silly in this dress, while I think I’d look rather nice in yours’ & she left me gasping. Darling, I know I’m plain, but there are kinder ways of saying it, don’t you think?)
Mrs Seidler has just arrived dear. She asked after you, and said such nice things about you that I think I’ll find her a Solace for the rest of my life.
Saturday 13 July Some of the characteristics that I have of my own, darling, are the following:-
a.) The ability to talk vaguely to strangers about anything, as though I were interested in them and it. (As it is, I only talk to people who interest me on subjects that amuse – but I do know how to be universally ‘sociable’.) In future I shall try & put this into practice.
b.) A real joy in household usefulness, efficiency & neatness – countered by a dislike of doing these things myself – but rather than see a room or a house messy & ill-managed, I would do it – and now I shall do it – in spite of the fact that if I left my room in a mess someone would come in & clean it up.
Bombshell of the Year – Sheila has just rung up to say that Hamish has announced his engagement to Charlotte – & Joan & I were congratulating one another on Tuesday on his Impending Happy Release – and now this has Happened. Oh! woe – how are the mighty fallen. Mr & Mrs Falconer are Numb – Sheila is Shattered – so is Allan – so am I – so, doubtless, is Joan. Charlotte arrived in London with him & her mother – All Dewy & Clinging – then she went to Devonshire & sent Sheila a pot of cream. This, says S, tragically is The End – & she rang off in Sorrow & Anger.
Tuesday 16 July I had a letter from Aubrey this morning – His address is 14th Battalion S. Staffordshire Regt, Racecourse, Hereford. He seems happier in Hereford than he has been anywhere since he was encased in the habiliments of war (this is his idiom as well as mine). He has a batman called Nightingale who is a Great Solace to him. He says he asked him the other morning whether he ever sang in Berkeley Square, to which Pte Nightingale replied Rather Beautifully ‘No Sir’ and would he be wanting anything else? Aubrey says that the Paddock at Hereford has the finest array of Duncans in captivity, and that is a further solace to him. He loves letters, darling – write to him if you can spare the time – after you have written to me.
Wednesday 17 July What a Beautiful Picture, darling, – you in the Air Raid Shelter trying to make your mother & Raymond & Alice aware of the Consummation of the Marriage of Literature & Life.
No – I’m not surprised about Hamish & Charlotte – only in sorrow. She’s such a dam’ silly, prim, kittenish little thing. I don’t know why Allan is shattered – probably because Sheila is. I’ve never known him to have any reasons of his own for anything yet – but Charlotte is enough to make anyone come out in a rash of sheer irritation – & Allan, like the rest of us, is very fond of Hamish.
Darling, I do blame my school-fellows for being unkind about my appearance. You don’t know what it’s like to be fat & ungainly & acutely conscious of your supreme unattractiveness – & while I didn’t want anyone to try & soothe me with mendacious flattery – I was grateful to the people who made no comment at all. I’m still very self-conscious about being plain – (Joyce says that what I lack is showmanship – the power to make the best of my appearance & to make an impression on people by physical self-confidence. Look at Ursula, she says, 50% of her charm is good showmanship. No-one stops to remember that she has nobbly features & is too thin – because she’s vivacious & assured & she dresses & carries herself strikingly – perhaps she’s right) and Nurse’s constant jibes are a real Sorrow.
Thursday 18 July Sheila & Allan are coming to dinner tonight. I haven’t heard from Sheila since she went into a Swoon over Hamish’s engagement on the telephone the other night. I’m in Great Solace at the thought of seeing her again.
On Tuesday, Ismay is coming to London & I’m having lunch with her at her flat & then we’re going to a theatre. She said in her last letter that Charles looks worse, if possible, than most people in Battledress, because they haven’t been able to find one to fit him. (What did I tell you? I knew that they ought to have sent up to the Small Ladies Dept.)
Peggy writes that Mr Loewe has had a relapse – but that he’s on the way to recovery again. She called there the other day to find Raphael wallowing in gloom. You know, darling, Raphael has missed his vocation. He would have been a Prince of Undertakers. He is the Platonic idea of an undertaker – and I don’t suppose he’ll Ever know. I’m afraid (if I may borrow your idiom for a moment, dear) that even his best friends won’t tell him.
Friday 19 July Joan Aubertin was in London today. She came to lunch and told me (in the strictest confidence, of course – I wasn’t to tell anyone – not even you) that Sheila had told her (in the strictest confidence – she wasn’t to tell anyone – and particularly not me) that Hamish had bought a Wedding-ring & was hoping that Charlotte would join him in S. Africa on the cargo-boat of an Uncle of a lady-friend of one of his colleagues in the Air Force.
You know, your mother is not the only harbourer of half-witted maids. Lady Nathan’s parlour-maid leaves Alice standing. The other night, Lord N, in his Hospitable way, fell-a-snoring before the coffee had been poured out – so Buxom Nellie told the maid to leave the Cona in the Library. ‘Shall I leave the cups too?’ the girl wanted to know. Lady Nathan thought it would be helpful if she did leave the cups. Then, at dinner, we had some difficulty in mopping up our cream with our raspberries – so Joyce called for spoons. The maid took away our fruit knives & forks and laid pudding-spoons & forks beside our plates. She obviously took the view that, if we looked upon the raspberries as Dessert, then all we needed were dessert knives & forks – but, as we were going to be eccentric & regard them as Sweet – there was to be No Compromise. Pudding-implements were what we needed, and Pudding-implements were what we were going to get, willy-nilly. A Young Woman of Character – the Nathan’s parlour-maid. Joyce has a theory that whenever she introduces Mr Mosley into the Library, she feels as though she were in a conspiracy, and gives Joyce a Lecherous & Understanding Leer – It’s a Great Sorrow to Joyce.
Monday 22 July Joan and I have a Beautiful Scheme, darling. You know that it was announced on the wireless recently that if the town in which you happen to be living is declared a prohibited area, you are allowed to leave it with your debts unpaid for the duration. Well, we thought we’d tap every available Well-Informed Quarter, and find out what the