Lettice & Victoria (8 page)

Chapter 8

R
oland and Lettice, Archie and Harold, Alice (the
nineteen
-year-old daughter), the prosperous young man, the
celebrated
figure from the world of art and his inebriated wife, a minor poet and a famous composer of quartets walked, one behind the other, into the magnificent dining room at the Ritz Hotel.

Archie sat between the minor poet and the teenage daughter.

Lettice warbled, ‘It’s awful how I always seem to know more men than women.’ She explained to the composer of quartets, ‘I’m afraid I find men more interesting. Although I say it, I have never been a one to suffer fools gladly.’

Then, straining every muscle of her face, she turned to the famous fellow from the world of art who was placed on her right. She had rubbed up on her knowledge of the offerings of cultural London that morning as her hair was being twisted into coils. Her chirpy hairdresser took an interest in art and had given her some tips.

‘I gather there’s a new print of
Le Jour Célèbre
at the Academy.’

Roland, sharp of hearing, called across, ‘
Le Jour Se Lève
,
Lettice
. I imagine that’s what you are talking about.’

Her daughter, talking to Archie, asked, ‘Are you interested in psychoanalysis? I think it’s fascinating. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how many problems stem from having been
misunderstood
as a child.’

Roland, on her other side, said, ‘I hope none of you are going to start believing that you were misunderstood.’

Months of Lettice’s plotting had led to this occasion.

Alice went on. ‘Freud was fantastic. Did you know that it was him who said, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes”. Don’t you think that’s fantastic?’

Archie was wondering if Victoria was safely back at home. He planned to ring her after dinner.

Harold’s energy had dribbled away and he could barely lift his food to his mouth. When dinner was over he thanked
Lettice
, congratulated Roland and ran away.

Archie saw his lanky figure as he scrambled into a taxi.
Dismissing
the idea of trying to follow him, he decided that he would definitely ring Victoria. After all he would see Harold the next day when they dined in college hall.

Back at the flat, Victoria’s mood was unsatisfactory. Her
dislike
of Lettice was uncomfortable. She wished that she missed Edgar. She had fallen asleep and had been dreaming again. Her baby, a boy, had blue eyes and grey curls. The telephone rang.

‘I wanted to be sure that you got home all right.’

‘How was dinner at the Ritz?’

‘Very nice. It would have been a great deal nicer if you had been present.’

‘Who did you sit next to?’

‘Your sister-in-law. Very sweet. She talks about Freud and Jung.’

‘Come and tell me about it.’

‘Very well.’

He appeared on her doorstep almost instantly. He drank whisky and talked entertainingly of his rage at the abolition of capital punishment, dislike of facial hair, terror of men who wore earrings and his loathing of dogs which, he declared, ought to be muzzled at both ends. But he was tired and didn’t stay as long as Victoria would have wished. His lunatic attitude was compelling and spellbinding. His jokes and his rages; his bigoted views and flirtatious manners lifted Victoria’s spirits. She had never heard anything like it and compared him, neither favourably nor the opposite, with Laurence and his gentle liberal ways.

In days to follow she was uneasy. She was fearful of having been impertinent, notwithstanding the fact that he had telephoned her, in asking Archie to visit her after the Ritz dinner party. She wished that he didn’t occupy such a distinguished position. Perhaps, when he retired, she would be allowed to visit him once a week.

Another Italian stamp and Mungo’s exasperating
handwriting
on the hall floor at breakfast time. She was pleased though to hear from Laurence.

Less so when she discovered that the letter had not been dictated but came from Mungo Craddock himself.

‘Dear Victoria. One writes to put you in the picture.
Laurence
is fading fast, poor old dear. He doesn’t leave his bedroom and Aldo (do you recall the male nurse?) is on
permanent
standby.’

Did she recall the male nurse? Barely – and Laurence’s
routine
had constituted her life for a while.

‘Fear not! He wants for nothing. One reads aloud to him during his periods of consciousness; mostly from one’s own works. One’s style delights him. One has moved into the
sitting
room which, you may remember, is next to his bedroom. This way one can be on tap around the clock. Don’t put
yourself
to the inconvenience of writing. He remembers nothing. Elena has let him down badly. One never took to her, truth be told. Her eyes are odd. One noticed them on one’s first arrival at the villa. Do you recollect the occasion?’

A pitiful note came from Elena by the same post. It was not easy to decipher but told that she was powerless. The
buffo
had taken over. He flattered the cook and shunned her, Elena, mocking poor Dante and his gifts for the
padrone
; treasures from the shore. Sea horses and shells.

Bernadini had been summoned and it was rumoured that the
buffo
was involved with the redrafting of a will. She, Elena, had never expected anything but what did the
signorina
imagine
? Perhaps the right to live with Dante in one of the outlying buildings. She had worked there since she was thirteen – and now she was thirty and ready to settle. Another thing. The
padrone
had been calling out for the
signorina
. Had the
buffo
told her this?

Chapter 9

U
nsold paintings stacked in the hall reminded Lettice of her promise to Belinda. It was a week since the exhibition and Roland was out of humour.

Victoria sent a note to say that she had enjoyed the party and had also heard that the dinner had been a great success.

Who had she heard it from? It could only be Archie. ‘Touch wood and whistle,’ she told herself.

Shaken and emboldened by desire to investigate, Lettice decided to ask her to stay for a few days before Edgar returned from peddling ink in Yugoslavia.

‘Darling. What a lovely letter! Roland and I both long to have you here and the country air would do you good. What about next week? Monday would suit perfectly. After all the people we had to fit in during our London visit, it is paradise to be alone and to listen to birdsong. The dawn chorus was unimaginable
ce matin
. I think Roland feels a little flat now it is all over and we rely on you to come and cheer us up.
Soignezvous
bien
. All fondest thoughts. Lettice.’

Victoria replied that, alas, she had been invited to stay in Cambridge for two nights that week. Archie, in his letter of invitation said, ‘I want to see you very badly. I am not in a very good way generally and need a change. One that your presence would supply. My head and various parts of my body seem to lead separate existences so that I am watching myself and
overhearing
myself the whole time, and not only my memory but my power of connected thinking seem to be removed from each other; I feel like a department store suffering from a power cut and with alarm bells sounding in all parts of the building (little pricks and tingles in limbs and extremities) which I interpret as signals, not of fire or gas but of closing time. But I am getting morbid and writing to excite pity. It’s not really as bad as that but I do feel low, partly because I want to see you and partly because Harold is rather (but not entirely) withdrawn and I feel somehow at a loss. Please come soon. Love Archie.’

Victoria, overwhelmed in joy at thus being minimally
confided
in, had accepted his invitation by return of post.

‘Holy mackerel!’ Lettice started to panic and to talk to
herself
. ‘Cambridge! How had she heard that the dinner party went well? It can’t be Archie and Harold, can it? I don’t see how. What am I to do – buried here among the mossy banks?’

Chapter 10

V
ictoria drove to Cambridge. She was greeted at the door of the leaden-looking lodgings by a polite college servant who told her that the principal awaited her upstairs in his study. As Victoria, heavily pregnant, walked quietly into the room, Archie Thorne rose from his chair and lowered his spectacles. It was unnerving to see him there. Principal of a college.

‘I am terribly pleased to see you.’

Victoria inspected the room – donnish with piled pieces of paper spilling over each other. She was taken aback to see, among other works of art, so many indifferent portraits of young men – some with ruby lips and many unclad.

‘So. You are admiring my paintings, I see. The one that I
particularly
like is the one on your right.’ The picture on her right showed nothing but gravestones. ‘Rather gloomy,’ she said.

‘I like it. It is named
Churchyard
and the best thing about it is that the artist himself is also called Churchyard. My
colleague
, Harold, who you know well, will join us at teatime. He
is terribly excited to think that he is going to see you again very soon. He was so excited last evening that he brought a tea tray down on my head.’ Archie put his hand to his temple, winced and said, ‘It was frightfully thrilling but fortunate that none of the fellows of the college were about.’

She joined Archie in the study where a tea tray had appeared. She wondered if it was the one to have been brought down on Archie’s head by Harold in his excited anticipation of seeing her again.

‘Ah. Here comes Harold. Harold. I have been telling
Victoria
how you have been looking forward to her visit.’

‘No. No. You mustn’t.’

‘Mustn’t what?’

‘Say anything.’

Harold then fell silent and remained so until he left with no warning and looking haunted.

Victoria asked Archie if everything was in order. ‘Of course. He’s dreadfully sensitive, you know. I think, another time, you would do well to admire his looks. As I often say, he is a plant that needs watering every day.’

‘Did I not water enough then? I tried to hug him when he arrived but he shied away.’

‘My child. You did nothing wrong whatsoever. He was
overcome
with pleasure. Now. Tell me how things are. How is your mother-in-law?’

An enticing and seductive evening passed, Archie’s
firebrand
conversation occasionally interrupted by the wafting in and out of Harold. He never settled or joined them as they ate
but was not violent or destructive at any stage. Archie gazed at him with tolerant adoration and some awe as he came and went.

Victoria was none the wiser and was glad that she had only arranged to stay for one night. The oddity of Harold’s
behaviour
had been, at times, hard to handle.