My Dear Bessie (18 page)

Write poetry to me Chris? You have already written poetry to me, music as well, I doubt whether you could surpass it, it isn't easy to express these things in words, but you have done it, you have moved me, right down, down to the foundations, you have accomplished what I shouldn't have thought was possible, you have opened a vision of a new world, a new experience for me, I cannot help but be so very very grateful to you. With that in front of me, I can overcome my black moods and rise up again and know that this life is worth the living. Oh Christopher I do adore you so.

Pancakes, yes we had your lemons with them, that was why I made them. I rather think your lemons helped to get rid of my cold, maybe your letters as well. All those things help, you know, the lemons on the practical side, and the letters on the mental side.

Thank you for the sultanas which are on the way, I do feel considered, my thoughtful lover, such a nice sensation. You don't know what a relief it is to have a pair of slippers, I have been wearing my shoes in the house, it was wretched not having
anything to slip my feet in, you know, for when you get out of bed, after a bath, for evenings.

Football – well, I shan't be able to tell you anything either, I don't exactly dote on sports, activities of the mind have always appealed to me more, thank goodness I shan't have to watch you perform on the playing fields, you seem to have plenty of outlets for your energy without that.

I had to giggle about my ‘bravery' in bombed London. I live here, work here, and there isn't anything else to do but live here and work here, and like most things up to a point, you get used to it. It's one's low resources that one has to be brave about, all one's usual aches and pains get you down easily, any extra effort tires you out, but as we are all in the same boat, that isn't so bad as it sounds, it's communal you know, makes a difference, besides the battle fronts sound so much worse, I concentrate on that when I feel pathetic. I shall be concentrating on Greece, can't help it, the situation sounds so much worse, the news tonight says civil war.

Darling I love you, love you, so very much.

Bessie

A portrait Bessie sent to Chris in Libya in 1944

8 December 1944

My Darling,

The stop-press of tonight's evening paper says it is quieter in Athens today, that ELAS have contacted the government today, I hope this is true. It is horribly difficult for us to get at the truth, Churchill calls them rebels trying to enforce a communist dictatorship, but the
New Statesman
says they represent the people. Whatever has happened, it has caused a shock in this country, but not enough to do any good, Greece will still be ruled from here by Churchill and co. When is Churchill genuine and when is he a humbug – is it necessary for us to enforce order? Feel very unhappy about it, fighting the Greeks sounds too awful, wicked. I hope all is well with you and our Greek friends. You said you were going to give me the family trees of the families you visit.

The weather sounds lovely there, whereas here, well – ! It tried to snow today, horribly cold. I don't know whether I told you that I bought a pair of lined boots (getting all prepared for the worst). I wore them yesterday and it wasn't necessary, and didn't today when it was. What is a girl to do in this climate, had cold feet all day. Very breezy these luxury flats – we have such a palatial entrance hall and carpeted stairs, but inside the flat, it's bare boards, the lavatory is always going wrong, and the water in the bowl won't run away – luxury?

Feel very worried about all those depressing letter cards that you are receiving, or are about to receive, my conscience besmites
me, I didn't oughta have done it, I didn't. I wonder what your receiving mood is like, I do hope it's full of beans despite all the present trouble.

Our Xmas cake has been taken out of my hands. Iris's sister Doris is going to make it, she is rather an expert. I had thought my last effort was rather good, I took Iris up a piece and she said so, and she is quite a good critic because she likes cake. Beyond this our interest in Xmas is nil. I am working Xmas day. Xmas is a family time, children's time, I expect you will enjoy yourself in Greece with your friends' families, anyway I hope you will be able to.

Am just listening to the 9 o'clock news and it's most disheartening, it says it's spreading not slackening. Oh Dear Christopher! I really can't think of anything else, Darling, I do really want to be cheerful, but it's so blooming difficult. Xmas! And you out there. I love you, I love you, I love you, and my heart is aching, it is so lonely and desolate without you. My mind keeps going into such flights of fancy on how to get to you, from stowing away on a ship, to applying to the war office, so blooming silly, but it does get so bad sometimes.

I went to see
The Circle
, John Gielgud's production, a play by Somerset Maugham, didn't think much of it, so was glad you couldn't come. Lil Hale wasn't very impressed either and she is rather keen on Gielgud's acting. To me he seemed such a milk and water specimen, no fire, no life in him, just a beautiful voice, too too cultured. I think I have got a bit choosy over the theatre. Have seen some really fine plays during the war. My standard has got a bit high.

I have been horribly chatty in this LC, that's the result of worrying. I have kinda got you on my mind in a different way, the situation in Greece is getting in my hair, despite all efforts to remain calm. Keep calm is my motto, very tiring you know. But I do wish I knew how things were with you. Keep well, keep safe.

I Love You.

Bessie

9 December 1944

My Dearest Angel,

I expect the news of Greece has by now nicely alarmed you, and that you are not without concern for me. I hope you will take this as a token of my continued safety and welfare. I am enduring no hardship or privation, and am subject to very little inconvenience. Later on I shall doubtless be able to tell you something about the present happenings, but for the present you must put 2 and 2 together and – if you are wise – not be too sure that the answer is 4. I listen to the wireless news from London with great interest, and find much food for thought in this whole proceeding. A flickering oil lamp illuminates this page as I write now, for it is night, but when I wrote before, there was a smoke pall over the
city and I could hear the ‘PUFF-BOOM, BOOM-PUFF' of the guns. I should very much like to tell you what I think and know, but this is not possible with me a soldier. Perhaps you will feel aggrieved and misled that I did not tell you this was liable to take place. I could not have done so without breaking the regulations, and in any case, I did not think it would be so soon.

If one approaches things with the idea of learning from them, I cannot say I am sorry to be here. But this is one occasion when it would be far better for you to be elsewhere. But do not think you are out of my thoughts. You can never be that. I decided this afternoon that I had better burn all your letters that I had (my last was 57) and I did so. I dislike burning your letters, but they are so much mine that I always feel it is best.

I was sorry to hear on the wireless (invaluable link with the outside world always) that London had had a brisk time with rockets last night. I hope you are safe and will always remain so. I do not feel very hopeful about an early end now, to Hitler and his works (mostly his works) but I have felt a little happier about the chances of escaping Burma etc, because if they do send ME and CMF [Middle East and Central Mediterranean Force] men home before going to other theatres I should be able to talk a bit when I get to England. By that time, I shall be as bald as makes no difference! I am not too much interested in the thought of getting home, then being sent out again. What I am interested in is getting home, getting out of the Army, marrying you, settling down to a happy, domesticated existence. I want to be with you and stay with you always. I want the warmth and the strength and the beauty of you, and to you I want to bring all my ability
to make you and keep you happy. Please do not worry over very few letters.

I love you.

Chris

10 December 1944

I had not planned to write to you again so soon, or to hear from you again, but your letter (No. 58) was dropped today, and eagerly I gulped the manna that was in it, quickly I must respond to your apparent need of me.

It is no good me trying to ‘kid' you that I know very well how Londoners must feel under the swift threats of the rockets. You do know that I went through the blitz in 1940, but this is quite a small thing, a tangible thing, against present horrors. I believe that Zola worked in a coalmine for 6 months to get the atmosphere for his novel
Germinal
. I should have to hear at least one rocket before it really came home to me that there were such things. Similarly you'd need to live in the desert to understand the actuality of miles and miles of sand. In other words, imagination cannot take us all the way … yours, try as it may, cannot conjure up my present situation. You just, rather naturally, suppose the worst.

I do hope that you will not get too, too, too downhearted about your present mode of living. You must always remember
that it is the world, and not you, that is wrong and at fault. So when you feel desperately tired and unhappy about bombs, the weather, your colds and other ills, don't take them as personal deficiencies, remember you are not responsible for them. Try and do as I have told you in the past, what I do, now that I am in the Army. Think about things as little as possible, and remember that no amount of worrying can alter them. The grim happenings here would perhaps have more worried me had I been a civilian in London.

But for us – US, more than anyone – life will be grand in the days to come if we will it so, if we trust. I shall come back to England, an England that I knew and in my fashion loved. (Have you ever been chestnuting at Sunningdale in October or blackberrying at Caterham in September?) And I shall brighten up your scene, I hope, and make you see things in a new and better light, so that we both realise we had not lived till we met, till we loved.