Henrietta Sees It Through

 

 

 

THE BLOOMSBURY GROUP

Henrietta's War
by Joyce Dennys

Mrs Harris Goes to Paris and Mrs Harris Goes to New York

by Paul Gallico

The Brontës Went to Woolworths
by Rachel Ferguson

Miss Hargreaves
by Frank Baker

Love's Shadow
by Ada Leverson

A Kid for Two Farthings
by Wolf Mankowitz

Mrs Tim of the Regiment
by D.E. Stevenson

Mrs Ames
by E.F. Benson

Let's Kill Uncle
by Rohan O'Grady

 

 

A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR

JOYCE DENNYS
was born 14
^th
August 1893 in India. She came from a military family and her father was a professional soldier in the Indian Army. The Dennys family relocated to England in 1886. Dennys enjoyed drawing lessons throughout her schooling and later enrolled at Exeter Art School. While studying at Exeter, she took part in the war effort and worked as a member of the Voluntary Aid Detachment after passing her Red Cross exams. Dennys designed a recruitment poster to encourage women to join up. She later wrote and illustrated the VAD alphabet while on duty on a ward and this was published by John Lane.

In 1919 Dennys married Tom Evans, a young doctor, and they moved to Australia. While living in New South Wales, Dennys's work was constantly in print and exhibited in many galleries. In 1922 Joyce became a mother and moved back to England. Her drawing took second place to the domestic and social duties of a doctor's wife and mother and she became increasingly frustrated, trying to work whenever she could. She voiced her frustrations through the character of Henrietta, a heroine she created for an article for
Sketch
. The article took the form of Henrietta's letters to her childhood friend Robert, fighting at the front. The article was such a success that Dennys was asked for more, and her letters became a regular feature of
Sketch
until the end of the war. Henrietta was to become so important to Dennys that she once remarked, ‘When I stopped doing the piece after the war, I felt quite lost. Henrietta was part of me. I never quite knew where I ended and she began.' These letters were later compiled to form
Henrietta's War
, first published by Andre Deutsch in 1985, and the second,
Henrietta Sees It Through
, followed in 1986.

 

 

 

First published in 1986 by André Deutsch Ltd
This electronic edition published in 2010 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Copyright © 1986 by Joyce Dennys

Ex libris illustration © Penelope Beech 2010

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 36 Soho Square, London W1D 3QY

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

ISBN 9781408813812 (ebook)

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Visit
www.bloomsbury.com
to find out more about our authors and their books You will find extracts, author interviews, author events and you can sign up for newsletters to be the first to hear about our latest releases and special offers

More News from the Home Front 1942–45

Joyce Dennys

 

 

 

 

 

B   L   O   O   M   S   B   U   R   Y
LONDON • BERLIN   NEW YORK

 

 

 

For my granddaughters
Deborah, Prue and Julie

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 11, 1942

M
Y
D
EAR
R
OBERT

Is there anything more fascinating than cutting the edges of the lawn? I have an implement for doing this. I don't know its official name, but I call it ‘the cutter' which sounds more like a ship than anything else. I keep it sharpened and wrapped in oily paper, and guard it with my very life. The Linnet asked me once whether I loved my cutter more than her. I was deeply shocked by the question; but after considering the matter dispassionately for some hours, I came to the conclusion that, after Charles, Linnet, Bill, Perry and Lady B, my cutter came next, and a long way in front of Aunt Julia, Mrs Savernack and Cousin William. Twice a year I tenderly unwrap the cutter and slice bits off the edge of the lawn and all round the rose beds. I count these hours among the most vivid of my life. The bits that are sliced off look like delicious chocolate cake with green icing, and the gardener gathers them up greedily and hides them in the potting shed. He says they save Charles thirty shillings a year. I don't know what he uses them for. Bill says he eats them.

I was engaged upon this fascinating pursuit yesterday afternoon, when Lady B arrived and sat down on a garden seat in the sun to watch me.

‘I can't think why you grumble about gardening,' she said after a few minutes.

‘It isn't always bliss like this,' I said, pressing the cutter into the turf with a soft, squelching sound.

‘You've left a little bulge there, Henrietta.'

‘Here?'

‘Further along. Yes, that's right. I suppose I couldn't do a little bit?'

‘No.'

‘I was afraid you'd say that,' said Lady B, so wistfully that my heart smote me.

‘Oh, all right,' I said, grudgingly handing her the cutter. ‘You can do to the corner.'

But Lady B waved it away. ‘I don't really want to,' she said. ‘You go on.'

Not want to use the cutter? I went and sat beside her and gazed earnestly into her face. ‘You're not feeling ill, are you?' I said.

‘No.' This in a very small voice.

‘Darling Lady B, what is the matter?'

Lady B looked at me piteously. ‘It's elastic,' she said.

‘Elastic?'

‘I suppose you realise there isn't going to be any soon?'

‘I hadn't. But now you mention it, I suppose there isn't.'

‘Nothing to keep our hats on with. Nothing to keep our stockings up with. Nothing to keep our—I mean, how else
can
you keep a bust-bodice in place?'

‘Nothing to keep our stocking up with'

I sat in stunned silence.

Lady B leaned towards me and said in a low voice: ‘And then there's
stays
.'

‘Is there?' I said dully.

‘It's all very well for skinny people like you,' said Lady B - and I knew how upset she must be to call me skinny, for she is practically the only person here who is kind enough to describe me as slim. ‘It doesn't matter whether
you
wear stays or not, but for me they are a necessity. Henrietta,' she said solemnly, laying her hand on my arm, ‘for the last thirty years I have worn the same sort of stays. They are very expensive and very comfortable, and they have a wide piece of elastic down each side. I think I can say without undue conceit that they have proved successful, for my figure, though full, is not in any way ungainly. In fact, there are those who have described it as neat.'

‘I never saw a neater.'

‘But from now on I shall have to stay in bed!'

There was a tragic silence, and I picked up the cutter and did from top to bottom of the south side of the lawn, thinking hard all the time. It looked a bit crooked when I'd finished, so I did from bottom to top, but still thinking. Then I went back to the seat where Lady B was sitting gazing into an empty future, and took one of her clean hands in both my dirty ones.

‘Listen,' I said, ‘I don't think it's going to be as bad as all that. You must order some new stays at once. Perhaps we shall have won the war before they are worn out; but even if we haven't, they'll probably put us on Points for elastic, and you can have all mine and Charles's, except for his braces and sock-suspenders, and I really don't see why those shouldn't be knitted of wool.'

Lady B embraced me tenderly. ‘I knew you'd cheer me up,' she said. Then we heard feet on the gravel and Mrs Savernack came round the corner.

‘No wonder the Russians think we aren't working hard enough,' she said grimly, and I got guiltily to my feet.

‘We were talking about my stays,' said Lady B, who was now quite cheerful again.

‘Stays? Pah!' said Mrs Savernack. ‘You'd be a great deal better if you didn't wear them.'

‘And you'd be a——' I began, but Lady B gently but very firmly pressed my foot and shook her head at me.

Mrs Savernack picked up my cutter and ran an appreciative thumb around its edge. ‘Nice implement,' she said. ‘I'll finish this job for you.'