Lettice & Victoria

by Susanna Johnston

  ‘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.’

  The 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 abo
ut. ‘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.’

  Victoria had been in a state of undefined bliss. Apart from Lettice’s lapse during dinner, Archie and Harold’s visit was perfect. Beyond all hope.

  After Roland and Lettice left the evening before and Harold had crept off to bed, Victoria and Archie stayed up talking until Maudie cried soon after five o’clock. Never before had a human creature been capable of removing the burdens of daily existence from her mind.

  So, when the two men returned from the outing from which she had extricated herself, she was slow to notice any change in Archie.

  It wasn’t possible that her wise, distracting friend of the night before could alter without warning.

  When Archie’s peevishness became apparent her suspicion fell on Harold’s scarcely hidden jealousy. Lettice, she was certain, held no power.

  ‘I hope you haven’t arranged anything for this afternoon,’ Archie spat. ‘I, for one, intend to sleep. You kept me up far too late.’

  His expression was mean and old-maidish; appearance distorted. The battle between the women was more than he could cope with.

  Victoria took refuge in the kitchen. She stood back, hands against the distempered wall, spreading and flattening them, palms downwards, onto the paint behind her. She hoped that rising damp might cool the heat of her body. Then she turned from left to right placing first one hot cheek and then the other against the powdery wall.

  Harold ate fast and wandered off before lunch was finished. Archie made no effort to be polite until he saw tears forming in Victoria’s eyes. As they ran over her cheekbones, he handed her his red spotted handkerchief – clean but for a silver fingerprint.

  ‘Does it enrage you to see a woman cry?’

  ‘Not in all cases. I would be sympathetic to the sight of a mother, say, crying over the death of her child.’

  ‘What about a father?’

  He decided to charm her before resting. It would not take long. He went to her side. She hadn’t noticed Harold’s silver fingerprint on Archie’s handkerchief and tucked it away for future tears.

  After her guests left Victoria waited for Lettice to ring.

  ‘Darling. Have they gone? A relief for one and all, I should imagine. I thought Archie was very difficult. Not at all his old self.’

  ‘It’s hard for me to say.’

  ‘Of course. Impossible. To us, knowing him as we do, the change was very noticeable. All that flattery is quite new.’

  ‘I think he was unwell.’

  ‘I can’t say that I suspected any such thing. Did he mention it?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘There you are. He would have been sure to tell me if anything had been the matter.’

  Back in Cambridge, Archie rang Victoria.

  ‘Just to let you know that we arrived safely. It was wonderful being with you. Harold is almost embarrassing in his praise of you. Quite rightly. You must visit us here after the New Year which, as you know, we are to spend at The Old Keep. We will certainly meet then. I will ring you again in a day or two.’

  His voice was tired and the pitch high. She asked him if he was unwell.

  ‘You are very perceptive. I am not well. I sleep badly at night and can’t concentrate fully during the day. I realise that I’m getting old. My body feels old and the mechanical parts of my brain. I do forget everything. However, I won’t forget you or Maudie.’

  Four days later, a letter arrived for Victoria from Harold. After thanking her for the nights he had spent at the stables, he went on to say, ‘Archie is rather unwell. I doubt if there is any cause for anxiety. He spent the day in bed yesterday but refused to send for the doctor or to take his temperature. I will let you know of any developments – good or bad.’

  Harold was assiduous in providing Victoria with bulletins and rang her the day after his letter had arrived.

  ‘I regret having given you any cause for alarm about Archie. He is not really ill but very tired. There seem to be a large number of administrative jobs to do with the running of the college which are proving complicated and unpleasant.’

  ‘I’d love to see him. Would you let me know if he would like a visit?’

  ‘Yes. Of course. Most certainly. I will ring you again, if I may.’

  ‘Thank you. You are kind.’

  ‘No. No. Not at all. Not in the least.’

  Victoria took Maudie to lunch at The Old Keep on Christmas Day. She would have liked to stay at home but Belinda advised her to go ‘particularly this year’.

  Maudie was wrapped in a thick red shawl ready for the expedition when Harold rang. Planting her on the floor, Victoria answered the telephone.

  ‘I want to tell you that Archie is now rather ill. The doctor, being cautious, has sent him to hospital. He says that it may be pneumonia. I don’t think there is any reason to worry and he is in extremely good hands.’

  Harold gave her the name and address of the hospital that lay outside the city and where Archie had been sent the evening before.

  ‘I think a letter would be welcome. He is very depressed.’

  Victoria wrote, quickly, before setting off.

  ‘Dearest Archie. I can’t bear you being ill. Please get better soon and remember how much we love you. What a horrible Christmas. I hope you don’t get bothered by balloons and communion wine. I wish I could see you. I’m knitting you a scarf.’

  Pulling a tartan cape trimmed with velvet ribbons over her shoulder, Lettice descended the tower steps. Forcing her arms through each gap, she stretched them towards the baby. ‘Let me take the precious bundle.’

  They stood for a moment in the hall under a bunch of silver holly – removing coats and shawls. Lettice wore a shimmering Christmas frock. It came down from its hanger once a year and was worn throughout the special day. Roland looked at his life partner and thought she had bags of spirit. No one can deny that.

  Lettice gave Victoria a lute in trust for Maudie. ‘It was my lute. Especially designed for me by a famous lute-maker. I used to play and sing to it.’

  Alice picked the baby up and searched for signs of emotional disturbance.

  Shortly before lunch, Lettice warned, ‘I’m going to ri
ng Archie. We always talk on Christmas Day.’

  Victoria, unable to bring herself to admit that she knew he was in hospital, asked, ‘Where?’

  ‘He’s sure to be at his lodgings. He always lunches en famille at Christmas. Probably some of his cousins and Harold. The usual, you know.’

  She was gone, down the passage to the telephone and dialling furiously.

  Back and mystified she said, ‘Very bizarre. No reply,’ glancing at Victoria who had got out her knitting and was making a scarf for Archie. ‘Did he say anything – en passant I mean, when he stayed with you?’

  ‘No. He didn’t mention his Christmas plans then.’

  ‘Since? Has he mentioned them since?’

  Joanna bounced in, ‘You’re not still talking about that prickly old Thorne, are you? He’s biting into your flesh.’ Pleased with her joke she turned to Victoria.

  ‘The baby’s spiffing but don’t you find her an awful bind?’

  Signalling in lively fashion, Lettice led the party along a festooned hall.

  ‘Victoria. You must sit by me, then Maudie will be near the fire.’

  ‘I’ll feed Maudie. It won’t kill me for once.’ Joanna, with wisdom unexpected in one so young and brash, saw danger in seating her mother next to Victoria who quickly exchanged seats. Victoria longed to get on with the complicated pattern she knitted into Archie’s scarf and which was bundled into her bag.

  The meal over, a restless and fidgety Lettice said, ‘I’ll try Archie again. It was silly of me not to remember. Often they go out for a drink before luncheon on Christmas Day. And, Roland, don’t forget to give Orpheus some special delicacies on this of all days.’

  Harold, having eaten alone in an expensive hotel, went to Archie’s study at the lodgings.

  He turned on a bar of the electric fire. There were things that Archie might like to have with him in hospital. He sat down on an armchair, still wearing a black overcoat, while his mind went round and round. He was organising an operation.