frequented by Evelyn Waugh’s characters, leading her a dance in which she was a far from happy partner, though she exaggerated her woes as many of us do in youth. For a girl of twenty five her letters are touchinglyingenuous.
From Redesdale Cottage, Otterburn, she wrote on 30th December, 1929: ‘Here I am as you see banished from Hamish for three weeks. I thought I should die but am bearing up nicely partly because I adore this place and partly because my grandmother is such an angel. Also I am working really hard… [Recently in London] went to the Café de Paris, having borrowed
£
2 from Evie. Well then we found (when we’d got there) that after paying the bill we had 7½d between us. We were panicking rather when the sallow and disapproving countenance of old Mit [her brother Tom] was observed. He cut Hamish but lent me
£
1 and we went to the Bat. As we never pay there now we are treated as poor relations and put behind the band where we can neither see nor hear and we have the buttered eggs that the Mountbattens have spat into and left. All so homey and nice don’t you think. Still I feel we lend a certain
ton
to the place. Hamish has been an angel lately, not drinking a thing. I really think that bar all the good old jokes which no one enjoys more than I do, that he has literally the nicest nature of anyone I know. He gets nicer every day too.’
‘My grandmother is divine about him although she knows and hates all his relations and forbears . A propos of his religion [he was a Catholic] she said, “so long as a person is devout it doesn’t the least matter what his religion is, only I (no doubt wrongly) would never feel quite the same about a very devout Hindu or Buddhist. And of course Low Church people are very holy but they do so treat God like their first cousin.”’
‘I must go to bed. It is dark here all day and I keep looking out for the midday moon, haven’t seen it yet… Have had to alter the book (
Highland Fling
) quite a lot as it is so like Evelyn’s in little ways, such a bore.’
From Redesdale Cottage again on 8th January, 1930: ‘I’ve been here nearly a fortnight, and apart from missing Hamish dreadfully have enjoyed every minute of it, such beautiful country —I’ve been desperately trying to finish the book, which has improved a lot since you heard parts of it… The sweet angel [Hamish] is always so sensible about everybody but him self isn’t he. Poor Hamish was in a fearful state when his brother-in-law died suddenly because it was the third sudden death in his family this year which I must say is dreadful for them.’…
Later: ‘I’ve got a job offered me to write a weekly article for
£
3 a week and I keep putting off and putting off but can’t start this evening as I’ve just spent the day in Oxford with you know who and that always stops me working. He’s going to Canada in March for ever, and we’re both so unhappy about it, specially me. Isn’t life perfect hell, that beastly old Harry has found a job for him at
£
100 a year with a rise of
£
10 every six months which looks as though he’ll be able to support me and our 5 children jolly soon doesn’t it. However, he’s being such an angel about it that one simply must not put him off and it may be the making of him yet I suppose… You won’t know Hamish again, he’s a reformed character, gets up at 9.30 every morning and has quite given up drink and intends to work like a slave in Canada. I love him much more than ever.’
From Old Mill Cottage, High Wycombe, 1st February, 1930: ‘The children [her sisters] have a hen called Mongrel Child, but when they are feeling pleased with it Golden Eagle. They also have one called Double She because it lays double yolked eggs. I fear these farmyard details arelikely to bore.’
‘Lunched with Hamish on Thursday and arriving at one o’clock found him in pyjamas having breakfast so I hounded him into his bedroom and finished up his grapefruit and coffee. He
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