Lettice & Victoria (6 page)

Chapter 2

T
hey ate dinner in the rustic kitchen – all that remained of an ancient bake-house, adorned with ornamental gourds and specimen thistles.

‘Archie, you have got to encourage Roland. He’s got nerves about the exhibition. He even tells me that he won’t have enough work finished in time. Have a little more
poison maison
.’

Archie had drained his glass and held it up in a manicured hand.

‘Put it off. Put it off. Never work to a deadline. It destroys everything worth striving for. Your work is brilliant because of its precision, not because of dash and frenzy. Put it off.’

Harold looked down. Lettice had appealed to Archie and he had knowingly escaped her.

There had been deliberate cruelty in his advice and he went on in the same vein, speaking to Roland.

‘What possible point can there be in your having a
London
exhibition? It has never come to my ears that you have
difficulty selling your work. I only say this because I recognise your talent.’

Harold drew up his gangling legs and lodged his feet on the rung of a bentwood chair. He didn’t understand why Archie was talking so wildly and upsetting Lettice, when he had been offered so little of the horrible wine. He realised that Archie found Roland and Lettice depressing since he was always
contentious
before going there and often silent on the way home.

Harold stayed there because of his involvement with Archie and wondered if he had ever known how Archie had become established as a regular guest – or even if Archie knew himself. He decided to ask him  when they were in Wales.

Lettice gave news of her other children.

Bobby and Bobby had a daughter, also called Bobby. They were living in an artistic community somewhere in France. Lettice said that she thought the extended family was probably the best solution for nowadays.

Archie exploded. ‘Commune! How can you allow it? Do you really mean to tell me that your son and daughter-in-law have joined a group personified by types with straggling locks, bushy beards and bare feet? Do they believe that they stand for the primitive man and the early Christian – Robinson Crusoe and Jesus Christ – the noble savage, wild men of the woods and the prophet whose kingdom is not of this world? Really Lettice. I’m ashamed of you both.’ His words were pistol shots blasting sacred air. Lettice, straining to smile, cried, ‘Archie. I’ve always maintained that you were an
enfant terrible
.’

Harold thought about it at length before he went to sleep.

In the morning, Archie was strutting round Harold’s
bedroom
.

‘Do you think that Victoria is being deliberately suppressed?’

Black spirals of hair fell over Harold’s thin face. Brushing them back with a bony hand, he considered the question.

‘No. Oh no. I’m sure not. What an idea. Why should they? She sounds rather wonderful.’

‘Voices came from their room just now. I simply wondered. But no. Of course. You are right. It was perfectly frightful of me.’

Harold was alert. ‘Archie. Don’t be bad. It makes me desperate.’

At breakfast they were pressed to honey from the comb, as Lettice, got up to the nines for church, told them, ‘Victoria is a little better. I have tried to persuade her to stay in bed but she insists on coming down for luncheon. Do remember, both of you, not to expect to see her at her best. If she talks too much it’s just shyness and if she doesn’t talk at all then it’s shyness, too. Please be kind.’

Everybody went to church except Harold who wanted to walk in the woods and Victoria who had not left her room.

Before the church party returned, Harold, waxy-faced and slightly toothy, went into the sitting room – a bow-windowed extension to the tower added at a later date. He sat silently in a rank dark suit and watched Victoria closely as she huddled by the fireplace obscured by green knitting and cigarette smoke. She had tried harder than usual with her appearance and the effort had made her uneasy. Her brown hair was curly and prettily brushed but despite her tidiness it seemed that a small disturbance might blow the whole thing into confusion.

The others came in, superficially chastened by the church service.

Lettice, barely hiding disapproval at the sight of knitting and leaning backwards to avoid cigarette smoke, dug her fingers into Victoria’s arm.

‘Now, darling. I want you to meet one of our oldest friends. Archibald Thorne. I can see that you and Harold have already made friends. Whatever you do, don’t let Archie bully you. He can be an absolute beast.’

Archie saw humour in the girl’s face, which surprised him. He went forward to charm her.

‘Is that a jumper for Edgar? Aren’t you girls wonderful! Not only do you pledge yourselves to these young men for life but you knit jumpers for them as well. Lettice. Did you ever knit a jumper for Roland?’

Victoria laughed. She said that she was having a hippy phase and was knitting herself a poncho-cum-trouser suit, but planned to make a jumper for Edgar as soon the present task was finished. He advanced further towards her, scowling and wagging a meaty hand. ‘A poncho-cum-trouser suit! I suppose that you approve of the adolescent of today. The shock-headed and dishevelled, with hair that seems to have run to seed
hiding
neck and ears in whiskery overgrowth, make me sick. I’ve seen them. Believe me. They’re everywhere, clad in patched jeans and dirty anoraks, padding hand in hand, sometimes with bare feet, along the city pavements. Horrible specimens of humanity.’

Victoria began to laugh. She liked him very much. He was
amused by her laughter and held up his hand in mock fear of her disapproval.

Then he advanced even closer wearing a slightly dragging, floppy suit. His shoes were rather bulgy but expensive
looking
. ‘Have you ever heard of a pop group called the Rolling Stones?’ The word ‘pop’ exploded as a Chinese firework. ‘The leader of this repulsive group – I forget his name – referred to the Mona Lisa as a load of crap! A load of crap. There.’ His eyes glittered above bifocals. Lettice trembled and feigned amused collusion with his whims, her face clouded by a desperate effort to appear affectionate and understanding. Archie
continued
to address Victoria.

‘My dear. You don’t take me seriously, do you?’

‘I don’t know how to take you. You attack in areas where I hold no views.’

‘No views! Do you mean to tell me that you hold no views on the hirsute and the hispid?’ Onlookers were silent.

Edgar took Victoria’s hand as if to protect her from further harassment.

Archie’s chuckle and Victoria’s obvious enjoyment made Lettice shudder but she ran for her camera and held her hand up in an urgent fashion. ‘Never allow a golden moment to go unrecorded. Flashing smiles, please. Where’s Orpheus?
Doggy’s
included. Say it after me. Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms. Say the words and your mouths will be set fair for the photograph.’

Harold strove to do her bidding but got no further than ‘potatoes’.

Chapter 3

I
n the afternoon, Archie and Harold left in the Daimler.
Harold
was too nervous to have learned to drive. He manoeuvred his long legs into the space in front of the passenger seat.

Edgar and Victoria left too and, once back in London, he assured her that they would not return to The Old Keep until she was quite well.

‘But you must understand Mother. She has a deadly time in the country with Father painting and listening to birdcalls on the gramophone. You resist the idea of giving in to her whims. It would be easier if you could accept her absurdities.’

‘Does Archie Thorne really like her? How can he go there if he doesn’t have to? Do you think it’s to please Harold? Harold is too susceptible to wounds himself to censure others. I
daresay
he doesn’t know many people to compare her with.’

‘Archie started coming years ago. Somebody once told me that it was because of us when we were young. Archie’s
imagination
has always been aroused by children – particularly
boys. Not much interested in my sisters, if I remember right. When my brother and I were small he used to worry Papa by grunting and following us about on all fours. We didn’t much mind but Papa once accused him of slavering and ordered him to stand up. Created a bit of an atmosphere at the time. Mama always insisted that it filled her with delight to see the
generations
interact. He’s a bit of a rascal. Not quite a rogue. A rascal. He weighs in heavily on all the wrong sides. My parents have never known if he does it for effect or from conviction. I find it very tedious.’ Edgar told her all this, clearing his throat, as though unmoved and uninterested.

‘Do you think I might be having a baby?’ Victoria asked.

‘Of course you could be. Please, though, don’t hope for it to be a boy in order to captivate Archie Thorne.

Chapter 4

A
rchie Thorne was in Piccadilly carrying a bowler hat and a trim umbrella when he saw Victoria. Wary in traffic, he looked about him before stepping across the road.

‘Have you finished the poncho-cum-trouser suit?’

His trousers were short, stopping an inch above his laced shoes.

‘I did finish it but it wasn’t a huge success. It didn’t fit
properly
. When I’d finished it I knitted a jumper for Edgar.’

‘And he wears it all the time?’

‘Not really. I think it’s disappeared.’

‘How perfectly frightful. Should we go into the Ritz and take a drink?’

On a curved sofa on the elevated area of the hall of the Ritz Hotel, they drank champagne. Archie asked her if she had recovered her strength.

‘Both Harold and I were disappointed to have seen so little of you. I shall insist that we are all invited together another time.’

‘Do you go there often?’

‘Do we go there often? The answer is yes. I think I can say that we go regularly. Harold loves it. Lettice has been very kind to him.’

‘I don’t imagine that it would be difficult to be kind to Harold.’

‘How about you? I can imagine that it might be difficult to marry a member of such a large and united family. Perhaps overpowering to start with?’

Again his spectacles were lowered and he looked at her with amusement. The lowering of spectacles reminded her of
Laurence
and she realised that it was time she wrote to him.

Victoria said, ‘Lettice finds it more challenging to be nice to me than she does to Harold. It’s difficult to fit into her picture. My clothes are no good. Perhaps it will come right.’

She touched his hand. ‘I’m going to have a baby. Not for months and months, of course. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning it.’

‘Mind! There are a great many things that I do mind and this is not one of them. My dearest child. If we were not at the Ritz, which we are, I would put my arms round you and hug you. I should hug you.’

‘I haven’t told Lettice yet.’

‘You must. You must let her know at once. Shall we send her a joint postcard?’