hostess was furious, but she was a very tiresome woman. What were we saying?’
I could see that with Julia one’s natural position was one of subservience, and I was no exception to the rule. I got into the habit of going round to visit her, since this was encouraged by both Owen and Charlie, for different reasons. Charlie was worried that she might feel lonely without the theatre to go to, and Owen was keen to please Charlie. I liked Julia well enough in those days, although I thought her selfish and outrageous, and no substitute for Millie. But Millie had married and gone to live near Oxford, and I felt the need of a female companion. My own state of mind was unstable. Mother, on my recent visits, had seemed to me so much more frail, so removed from my life and the world I had come to inhabit, though not comfortably, far from that. Fortunately I was able to secure the services of a neighbour, Mrs Barber, Joan Barber, who had a small child at school and was glad to go into Mother every day and sit with her. That way, at least I knew that she was not alone, although my heart ached for her and I could hardly wait for the opportunity to see her to come round. As always, I felt for her a mixture of love and pain, and I only hoped that as she drifted away from me she felt easier in her mind than I did.
But there was another cause for concern. I had found, in Owen’s sock drawer, several bundles of twenty-pound notes, which were evidently not destined for the household budget, and I was frightened. I assumed that this money was some kind of payment for services of a private nature, an investment, if you looked at the matter in an indulgent frame of mind, on the part of his clients, who would then have access to him for whatever purposes were under discussion.I knew that he was declaring this money neither to the Inland Revenue nor to the partners, and I was alarmed, so alarmed that I closed the drawer with a blush and never asked Owen where the money had come from. He was noticeably more short-tempered these days, as if his conscience, so much more malleable than I had ever suspected, was making him very slightly uneasy. Communication between us was reserved to whatever had to be said, which was convenient, for we had few evenings on our own. Owen was rarely at home; when he was not abroad he was dining with clients in London restaurants, which he found easier than entertaining in Gertrude Street. Thus my role in our marriage was reduced even further. When we got to bed it was to sleep, for which I now had an enormous desire. I got into the habit of taking a nap in the afternoons, and even then I slept deeply. When I awoke it was with a familiar feeling of oppression, and I was anxious to get out of the house. On some days I was happy to go round to Julia, who never seemed to worry about anything and whose preoccupations were confined entirely to herself. When I did not go round she would telephone.
‘Now look here!’ This was her usual greeting. ‘It’s no good my sitting here and your sitting there. Why don’t you come round? I was thinking I might go through some of my clothes. I’ll never wear any of them again.’
‘Oh, nonsense, Julia.’
‘No, I mean it. They ought to go to the Red Cross.’ She pronounced it ‘Crorss’. ‘You could help me; I’m sure you’re clever about these things. And you’re out and about so much more than I am, you could tell me what’s in and what’s out. Not that I ever went by that. But then I always had dressmakers to tell me. And I suppose I ought to cut down now that I’m no longer earning.’
She would sigh, and I knew the sigh to be genuine. So I went. At the end of the afternoon there would be piles of dresses all over the drawing-room. As far as I know Maureen put them all back again: at any rate the same process was repeated several times. The Red Cross, so frequently invoked, never got anything out of it.
It is always hard for a woman who has been well known to
I could see that with Julia one’s natural position was one of subservience, and I was no exception to the rule. I got into the habit of going round to visit her, since this was encouraged by both Owen and Charlie, for different reasons. Charlie was worried that she might feel lonely without the theatre to go to, and Owen was keen to please Charlie. I liked Julia well enough in those days, although I thought her selfish and outrageous, and no substitute for Millie. But Millie had married and gone to live near Oxford, and I felt the need of a female companion. My own state of mind was unstable. Mother, on my recent visits, had seemed to me so much more frail, so removed from my life and the world I had come to inhabit, though not comfortably, far from that. Fortunately I was able to secure the services of a neighbour, Mrs Barber, Joan Barber, who had a small child at school and was glad to go into Mother every day and sit with her. That way, at least I knew that she was not alone, although my heart ached for her and I could hardly wait for the opportunity to see her to come round. As always, I felt for her a mixture of love and pain, and I only hoped that as she drifted away from me she felt easier in her mind than I did.
But there was another cause for concern. I had found, in Owen’s sock drawer, several bundles of twenty-pound notes, which were evidently not destined for the household budget, and I was frightened. I assumed that this money was some kind of payment for services of a private nature, an investment, if you looked at the matter in an indulgent frame of mind, on the part of his clients, who would then have access to him for whatever purposes were under discussion.I knew that he was declaring this money neither to the Inland Revenue nor to the partners, and I was alarmed, so alarmed that I closed the drawer with a blush and never asked Owen where the money had come from. He was noticeably more short-tempered these days, as if his conscience, so much more malleable than I had ever suspected, was making him very slightly uneasy. Communication between us was reserved to whatever had to be said, which was convenient, for we had few evenings on our own. Owen was rarely at home; when he was not abroad he was dining with clients in London restaurants, which he found easier than entertaining in Gertrude Street. Thus my role in our marriage was reduced even further. When we got to bed it was to sleep, for which I now had an enormous desire. I got into the habit of taking a nap in the afternoons, and even then I slept deeply. When I awoke it was with a familiar feeling of oppression, and I was anxious to get out of the house. On some days I was happy to go round to Julia, who never seemed to worry about anything and whose preoccupations were confined entirely to herself. When I did not go round she would telephone.
‘Now look here!’ This was her usual greeting. ‘It’s no good my sitting here and your sitting there. Why don’t you come round? I was thinking I might go through some of my clothes. I’ll never wear any of them again.’
‘Oh, nonsense, Julia.’
‘No, I mean it. They ought to go to the Red Cross.’ She pronounced it ‘Crorss’. ‘You could help me; I’m sure you’re clever about these things. And you’re out and about so much more than I am, you could tell me what’s in and what’s out. Not that I ever went by that. But then I always had dressmakers to tell me. And I suppose I ought to cut down now that I’m no longer earning.’
She would sigh, and I knew the sigh to be genuine. So I went. At the end of the afternoon there would be piles of dresses all over the drawing-room. As far as I know Maureen put them all back again: at any rate the same process was repeated several times. The Red Cross, so frequently invoked, never got anything out of it.
It is always hard for a woman who has been well known to
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