Lettice & Victoria (10 page)

Chapter 5

L
aurence expired. The news was broken to Victoria in two ways. One by letter from Mungo and another, tear-drenched, from Elena.

The first, ‘One is proud to tell you that Laurence died serenely having rejoiced in the benefit of last rites. Father Sorbi took it into account that the old dear had never been received into the church. His peace of mind, at the end, was most rewarding. Rewarding and rousing. One hopes soon, when things are sorted out, to be in a position to offer you some little memento, a keepsake in memory of your time here.’

Elena wrote, ‘
Signorina
. Tragedy. The
padrone
is dead. Dead,
Signorina
.’

Elena had not been allowed to see him – had not been allowed near him – and had the
padrone
not always counted on her? She had been his eyes. Her slit ones had seen for him. Did the
signorina
remember the day when she found the clock? The alarm clock lost in a drawer? She, Elena, had set it ticking in the nick of time.

Links with Italy were over. Gone. Printer’s ink. Edgar and Puccini. Even Archie seemed to have evaporated. He seemed to neglect or to forget her.

A longed-for letter came early in December. It was wrapped around a small Battersea box that he sent as a Christmas
present
for Maudie.

‘Dearest Victoria,’ he wrote. ‘Will you please forgive me for (apparent) ingratitude and neglect and lack of affection and good manners and all that makes life worth living? I have been tired and distracted, unable to concentrate on work. Here I have sat, day after day, immersed (almost literally immersed because the college is closed). I am just working and working. Not hard work – just intellectual knitting. You know a lot about knitting. Checking texts, revising punctuation, filling in blanks, confirming proper names, etc. No real thinking. I drop stitches purposely now and again, just to postpone the end and to defer the need for thought or creative writing. I haven’t written a letter for nearly a fortnight. I’ve often said to myself, “I’ll write a letter to Victoria when I’ve finished the next row…” – my metaphor for knitting. That metaphor makes me think of you. Now the vacation has started and I hope to see you. I hear from Lettice of your arrangement with neighbours. I hope that it is all that it should be. Might I come and see for myself? Lettice has invited us both (Harold and me) to spend the New Year at The Keep so, doubtless, we will see you then. What would be even better, however, would be to meet beforehand. Let me know if you are able to think of a plan.

‘PS. I hope that Maudie is good and well.’ The word ‘good’ was underlined four times.

Lettice, hacking in the cabbage patch, counted her
disappointments
. Edgar was dead. The Bobbies communed in France. Alice was a dear, Roland’s favourite, but would always be plain. Joanna, still a schoolgirl and soon to come home for the Christmas holidays, seemed to be part of another world. It was unlikely that they would ever hear from Maurice again. He had gone to America six years earlier and had become a Mormon – or was it a Jehovah’s Witness? Perhaps a Shaker? Whatever the group he had joined, it precluded him from
further
communication with his family or with connections to life before his conversion.

Lettice had tried a heart-rending letter when Edgar died but had not had a reply. When making final vows Maurice had been permitted to write once to his mother stating the facts but not giving the reasons for his compulsory farewell.

Horrible fears formed in her head.

Had she been unwise in allowing Victoria to escape? Archie Thorne liked her. She had to absorb that fact and abandon hope that the vague but apparent conspiracy sprang from
loyalty
to herself. Then there had been Robert at Roland’s
exhibition
. ‘Know her? She’s one of my favourite girls.’

Watercolour paintings? She had seen no sign of such a talent. A rival to Roland? ‘Holy mackerel.’

Were the stables, Belinda and Jack’s stables, going to threaten her supremacy? Two loose boxes had become two spare bedrooms. Archie and Harold? Heaven knew who else?
Belinda in the centre of it all – fawning but triumphant. Had Belinda seen chances?

She rang her.

‘Dearest. Our sorrow will be with us always but thanks to your kindness in caring for Victoria and Maudie when we were plunged into a wilderness of despair, we are coming to terms with it. It’s forever ahead, I know, but I want to book you in for New Year’s Eve. I’ll be over in a day or two – a little nonsense for Maudie.
A tout à l’heure.
’

Victoria answered Archie’s letter.

‘Do come and bring Harold. You can both stay with me. Everything is wonderful. If you don’t come and see for
yourself
(as you suggest you might) but rely on my description, you might simply think I was being brave. Thank you for
asking
about Maudie and for the ravishing box. I have put it away carefully and will show it to her on Christmas Day. You ask if she is good. She is perfect. Almost too good and doesn’t
interrupt
nearly often enough. You must see her for yourself for, again, if you relied on my description you would simply think that I was boasting. Please come for a night or two – or more – before Christmas and don’t worry about Lettice. Belinda will find a way round the trickiness.’

Remembering the plant in need of constant watering, she wrote to Harold as well. She said how much she hoped to see him installed in one of her loose boxes before long.

Chapter 6

A
rchie and Harold walked slowly along The Parade. They often did this in the early afternoon. Harold leaned towards Archie, bending to catch his words.

‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t go and stay with Victoria for a few days before Christmas. After all, we go to Lettice for the New Year.’

Harold, unwilling to allow that Lettice had failings, did not accept that their decision might affect her. It was a question of whether they wanted to go.

‘I think it would be pleasant. Very pleasant indeed.’

‘Very well. I shall write to Victoria and propose that we go for two nights next week.’

‘Dearest Victoria. So. We come to see for ourselves. We will be with you, short of any serious accident on the road, at teatime next Wednesday. Until then.’

Belinda tried to be wise. ‘As long as Lettice can persuade herself that they only come to see you for her sake I think you’ll get away with it.’

Victoria wrote a note.

‘Dear Lettice. Archie and Harold have decided to take their godparental duties seriously so they are coming here for two nights next week, Wednesday and Thursday, to pay Maudie a pre-Christmas visit. Please will you and Roland come for
supper
on Wednesday?’

Belinda was in the stables helping Victoria to prepare the loose boxes when Jack called her to come back to the house. Lettice wanted an urgent word with her on the telephone.

‘I can’t understand. A note has come from Victoria saying that Archie and Harold are going to stay in your stables. What they must think I daren’t imagine. It beggars description. The presumption of inviting them when she hardly knows them, and to such discomfort, exceeds all limits. Poor dears are obviously anxious that it would hurt my feelings were they to refuse. It has put everyone in a terrible position.’

‘I don’t think it was meant to be presumptuous. They want to see Maudie – being godfathers.’

‘They can do that perfectly well from here. I’m inclined to ring Archie – I know him so well – and suggest that they stay with us in comfort and visit Maudie during the day. Not that he likes babies.’

‘You must do what you think best. Perhaps I gave Victoria too much encouragement – at least as far as accommodation in the stables. I remembered you once saying that, being cerebral, Archie Thorne was adaptable to surroundings. I repeated it to her to boost her courage.’

‘It doesn’t sound to me as if it needs much boosting. It’s plain cheek on her part and I have every right to be angry.’

Archie answered the telephone. There was another man in the room; a colleague who had come by appointment to ask for suggestions. He wanted to extricate himself from a boring marriage and Archie was saying, ‘But first you have to tell me a great deal more,’ when it rang. He made an impatient
gesture
to show his guest that no incoming call was to distract him from the boringness of his marriage.

‘Archie. I hail and greet thee.’ Lettice’s voice.

‘I’m awfully sorry. I can’t make out what you’re saying or, indeed, who you can be. Would you terribly mind ringing me some other time?’

He put the receiver down and said, ‘Of course you are in a very difficult position. She seems to have been a most
considerate
wife.’

Lettice, dashed by Archie’s abruptness, wondered if
Harold
had ever used a telephone. He might shed some light. She asked the college to connect her with his room. He heard the bell ring but did not cross the room to answer it.

An hour and a half later Archie, after detailed questioning, wound up the interview.

‘How easy it is to give advice,’ he said. ‘You are going to think me very harsh. It seems to me that your wife has done nothing more terrible than habitually to spread a length of pink satin, which she refers to as a
cache linge
over the chair in your
bedroom
on which she places her underwear at night. Of course my advice must, naturally, be disregarded but have you ever thought of providing her with a dressing room?’

Again the telephone rang.

The
cache-linge
victim made his getaway as Archie hurried to answer Lettice’s second attempt.

‘Archie. It’s an age since we spoke. Great news that we shall see the New Year in together once again.’

‘I’m much looking forward to it. So is Harold.’

‘Friendship is so important. Funny – how it matters.’

‘Indeed. Quite right.’

‘One other thing. I hear from Victoria that you are going to stay in the stables. Can it be true?’

‘Indeed. Can I count on seeing you there?’

‘Archie. Don’t go. I know you do it to please me and I am deeply touched.’

‘Of course. I would always want to please you but why shouldn’t we go?’

‘It will be hideously uncomfortable. I don’t know how she has the nerve to suggest it. Grief can do odd things to people. God knows – we have suffered ourselves.’

‘I’m terribly sorry. You have been wonderful. Don’t add to your worries by thinking of my comfort. We will simply arm ourselves with extra clothing.’

‘It’s not only the cold. I think it’s unsuitable.’

‘Ah. Now I see. Let me put your mind at rest. Harold is included in the invitation so there is no question of
impropriety
.’

Chapter 7

T
he journey had seemed long to both of them. Archie drove his Daimler up the rutted drive and stopped outside the
stable
block that ran across one side of a courtyard facing Jack and Belinda’s farmhouse. He put down two identical suitcases beside a new doormat and rang the bell. Harold followed
carrying
a small book.

Victoria opened the door.

‘I’m glad you’ve arrived, both of you. Lettice and Roland are coming this evening. Jack has given me some wine.’

‘Good. But this is very nice. Harold has never slept in a
stable
before and is terribly excited. Harold, tell Victoria what you said on the way here.’

‘No. No. Not now. Some other time.’

Victoria led them further in.

‘Are we going to sleep in mangers?’ Archie asked.

At suppertime Lettice’s head, encased in a tricorn hat, peered around the door. Roland followed, smiling.

Victoria opened the door to her parents-in-law and
followed
them into the room where the reunion took place.

Lettice removed a blue veil and greeted Victoria’s guests. ‘What fun this is. Victoria is brave to start entertaining so soon. It is still all we can do to drag ourselves out. Young people are so resilient compared to our sensitive generation.’

Lettice, a trifle breathless, extended stiff arms towards
Victoria
. ‘You darling. I so nearly bought you the most exquisite remnant of Victorian beadwork in the marketplace today. I was drooling in front of that lovely shop “All Our Yesterdays” and a beam of colour caught my eye. An enchanting scrap. Perfect example of the patience we women have, sadly, allowed to slip away in these frenzied, servant-less days.’ By the time she stopped, Lettice was more than a trifle breathless and Victoria hesitated before answering. Was she supposed to thank Lettice for this piece of near-generosity? Was it, in fact, the thought that counted?

‘Oh,’ she answered, cautiously confused. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

‘I didn’t. I mean, I did want to but the expense was too beastly. It was heaven. A million beads and stitches. It would have been perfect on that damp bit of wall by the chimney-piece.’

Archie said, ‘I think you are all perfectly wonderful. I shall take it upon myself to pour out drinks. Lettice, I know you don’t.’

He handed a weak drink to Roland and a strong one to Harold as Lettice’s eyes danced around the room. Annoyance rose to fury as she took stock of comforts provided by Belinda.
The men drank whisky as Victoria sat down beside Lettice and apologised in advance for the dinner.

‘Dearest. You should have asked me to help. As you know I am a natural cook. I maintain that cooking is a creative art – closely related to sculpture – and must never be allowed to become a chore. Ask Archie. Food is constantly referred to in literature.’

They ate in the kitchen. Lettice writhed. ‘This has been a year of great sadness. How happy Edgar would be if he knew, and I say this in particular to Archie and Harold, how my friends have rallied around Victoria.’

Archie told them both the story of his colleague and the
cache linge.
Victoria said, ‘What about a dressing room?’

‘Characteristically,’ he said. ‘Characteristically you have put your finger on it. Lettice. Roland. Your daughter-in-law is remarkably sharp.’

Lettice, out of control, shrieked, ‘So sharp she’ll cut herself.’

Soon after dinner she and Roland took their leave. ‘You must all come to us tomorrow. If you are weary, Victoria
darling
, send the men over. They ought to know the way.’

Archie said that he would ring Lettice in the morning.

‘So. It’s hail and farewell,’ she answered with wistful hardness.

Harold went straight to his stall and fell onto the bed where he slept without removing his clothes.

Archie and Victoria talked into the night. They drank wine as he complained of feeling old and raged against the abolition of capital punishment.

When, the next day, the two men called at The Old Keep,
they found Lettice alone in the garden room, hair wrapped in a gingham scarf and clothes protected by a painter’s smock as she squirted silver paint over a branch of holly.

‘You’ve caught me at what I call my dreadful decorations.’ She put down her spray gun.

‘Don’t let us disturb you. Harold, isn’t she marvellous? Is all this connected with Christmas celebrations?’

‘Isn’t it shaming? I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of my
childlike
excitement at Christmas time.’

‘You mustn’t. Don’t attempt to.’

Harold pressed a finger onto the wet leaves. He wiped the paint off with a red and white spotted handkerchief thrust at him by Archie.

Lettice looked into his face. ‘I can see that Harold is every bit as bad as me. There’s nothing as tantalising as wet paint, but
quel cafard
if we had to be adult all the time.’

A narrow passage, paved in flagstones, connected the flower room with a forsaken day nursery. Lettice was engaged in
turning
it into a scribbling and daubing den for herself.

‘Then the beastes goe into their dennes and remaine in their places.’ She explained how it was spelled as they looked about. ‘Book of Job.’

Archie and Harold sat on a bench, one extracted by Lettice from an abandoned church, and debated on the desirability of dennes.

Archie introduced the sore subject. ‘We are much enjoying our stay at the stables. I hope it isn’t too tiring for Victoria.’

‘Quite honestly it would serve her right if she dropped.’
Lettice let a cascade of abuse flood over her hearers. They cajoled and reprehended her in turn. Harold shrank in pain as he noticed shadows of anility cross Lettice’s face.

Archie, appointing himself professor, transformed the scene into a seminar. ‘Perhaps we should go back and examine the situation from the beginning.’

Harold checked him. ‘No, Archie, not now. No. No. Some other time.’

They left The Old Keep, conversation unsuccessfully
concluded
, without remembering to greet Roland.

‘Should we explore the representation of each?’

‘No. No. I think it would be unwise to give encouragement.’

‘Are you, with your extraordinary insight, trying to point out that they, neither of them, have anything of interest to say?’

‘Not precisely. No. I wouldn’t say that.’

‘Perhaps you are hinting at something of the sort. We have noticed that Lettice and Victoria are both women.’

‘My thoughts were connected with that knowledge.’

‘If we were wise we would go straight back to Cambridge and not communicate again with either of them.’

‘I don’t think that would show wisdom.’

Harold was thinking, in part, of the few possessions he had left in Victoria’s care. He did not want to lose the small book.

‘Of course. You are right. Nonetheless, it is a frightful nuisance – the whole thing.’

‘That didn’t occur to you until you went too far and upset Lettice.’