Time to Be in Earnest (42 page)

Afterwards we went to lunch in the restaurant of the Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery. It seemed to me a good idea since it gave time for the large crowd to disperse and we were then able to find a cab without too much trouble. I got home in good time to collect my overnight bag and to take the Central Line to Liverpool Street, where I caught the 5 p.m. train to Colchester.

Grey Gowrie had written a few months previously to ask if I would be the speaker at a literary luncheon at the Clare Arts Festival. After ascertaining that he meant Clare, Suffolk, and not Clare in the Republic of Ireland, I agreed—mainly, of course, because Grey had asked. But it proved a happy decision as I enjoyed myself greatly. I was a guest for the night of Countess Benckendorff and felt immediately at home. We had drinks at Cavendish House, were guests at a small dinner party and went early to bed. The weather still continued very unsettled but I was glad to see Cavendish and Clare, the former a particularly lovely village.

Before the luncheon I visited Clare church. It is typical of the best of East Anglian churches, beautifully proportioned, light and airy with the windows and columns closely set and an interesting sixteenth-century lectern. We went up into a galleried pew which I thought at first must have been a Victorian innovation to provide comfort and privacy for the local squire, but is, in fact, much earlier. The parish priest said that the church was considering how best this gallery and the space underneath could be used, perhaps to provide an area for private prayer where people could sit in quiet and be unobserved.

The luncheon was in the old schoolroom. We ate salmon in a very good sauce followed by strawberries and cream and a lemon tart. The service by volunteers, mostly young, was very slow and I found I had transported into Suffolk my London preoccupation with time. When coffee still hadn’t appeared at a quarter to three I murmured that guests would find their afternoon gone by the time I had finished speaking; I was assured that they expected their afternoon to be gone and the only worry was whether I would be too late back in London. It was certainly half-past four before the questions were finished and they could have gone on for much longer. One of the visitors was driving back to London and offered me a lift. I was particularly grateful as I had forgotten that the Tube strike had started and I could have been stranded at Liverpool Street.

In Berlin with Ruth Rendell before the Wall came down

Speaking at Chatsworth after presenting the Heywood Hill literary prizes, 19th June 1998. The Duke’s dog showed a flattering interest throughout.

OPPOSITE
: At home with Polly-Hodge, 1998

(Photograph by Miriam Berkley)

With my sponsors, Baroness Blatch and Lord Butterfield, before taking my seat in the House of Lords, 19th February 1991

(Photograph: Universal Pictorial Press)

OPPOSITE TOP
: St. Paul’s Cathedral, 28th June 1995. My largest and most attentive audience. Reading the Bidding Prayer I was asked to write for the thanksgiving service to celebrate the centenary of the National Trust

(Photograph courtesy Philip Way)

OPPOSITE BOTTOM
: With the Board of Governors and the Board of Management of the BBC at Lucknam Park

(Photograph courtesy BBC)

Photographed by Jane Bown at Blythburgh

With my fellow honorary graduands Pat Barker and Richard Griffiths, and the Chancellor Sir Peter Ustinov, Durham, 30th June 1998

(Photograph courtesy University College, Stockton)

A young painter and an elderly subject. My portrait by Michael Taylor in the National Portrait Gallery, painted in 1996

(Photograph courtesy National Portrait Gallery)

On the beach at Southwold, planning murder

(Photograph courtesy Alixe Buckersfield de la Roche)

I had been worried about leaving Polly-Hodge and expected to find her hungry and aggrieved. Happily, although glad to be fed, she seemed reasonably content. I had left her enough to see her through until this afternoon but was later back than I had planned. I expect that, like most of her devious kind, she has a second and secret source of supply for such an emergency.