So I Have Thought of You

by Penelope Fitzgerald

  Sad because Francis** has had horrid operation and can’t get over David dying. much love Ma

  27 Bishop’s Road, N6

  Tuesday [August 1989]

  Dearest Tina,

  I could hardly believe that you’d taken the time to write me a letter and such a nice long one. I loved hearing about the house – I still have your letters describing Milène’s family, and Uncle Georges in the cellars, and this one is even better. I’m so glad you went to Brittany as the weather is so wonderful you’ve got every possible advantage, and a proper garden and fruit and grass instead of a square of paving and 2 geraniums in pots and an unclimbable carob tree. I, too, wondered if P.* might be thrown out, and am so glad he isn’t, I can imagine him climbing and singing and Jemima running – how she ran on the beach at St Audries – and Luke, I can see, quite invaluable, bless him, fancy producing his French at 2 o’clock in the morning. No-one will ever have grandchildren like mine, you know.

  It is lovely here having all my meals in the garden if only it wasn’t for these dreary reviews and this pesky novel, but I must try and finish it now, I daresay Collins (soon to move to Hammersmith as part of Murdoch’s economies) would let me put it off but I can’t bear it dragging on, though I feel myself getting stupider all the time. I felt quite grand flying to Edinburgh** and eating the executive breakfast – orange juice, fruit salad, bacon and egg and hash-brown potatoes, roll butter and marmalade and a bran and raisin scone. Presumably to prevent constipation. Hermione Lee was very kind, although she clearly thinks I am hopeless about feminism, and says this is the generation gap – and Marina Warner not bad, she admits I taught her at the Westminster Tutors but says I made up her mind for her to give up her faith and she went straight to Westm: Cath. to make her last confession – I’m sure I didn’t. B.P. (patrons) gave us all a vast lunch at some hotel. The festival was in gaily striped tents and marquees which took up the whole of Charlotte Sq. – and Edinburgh did look nice in the sun and wind because they’ve had rain up there. I made the P.R. girl come on a bus trip round the city afterwards so we had to get quite a late flight. And now all the shuttle services are on strike because one of the hostesses has been accused of selling the free executive champagne to the tourist-class, of course they do! – Thursday I go down to the BBC to start these recordings but I don’t have to interview Anne Thwaite till next week.

  All this must sound more than dull when you are on the plage (do you remember the dear old French O-level papers with pictures?). Meanwhile I want to wish you a happy homecoming but won’t send you a YOUR NEW HOME card as the bungalow isn’t exactly that, but 10000 welcomes back, all my love to all of you –

  xxxxx Ma.

  You’re quite right about Sarah. You always make nice friends – the wild craftswoman-hairdresser at Weston was nice – but Sarah was someone in particular, and my word how she’ll miss you. I wonder what will happen to the Methodist Hall playgroup? But new times now and new places.

  Mary had an X-ray because of her constipation but as far as I can make out there is nothing to worry about. Must keep her off diets. There’s a new one, Bio-lite, which you take for a week and feel much lighter, – it’s been shown to consist of 95 per cent tapwater.

  [postcard: Millais’ ‘The Boyhood of Raleigh’]

  9 November [1989]

  Thought Lukey might like this, though Raleigh of course inferior to Drake. Went yesterday to help unveil plaque to Burne-Jones on grim flats built on site of his gracious home. Fish-paste sandwiches and white wine in local library, where mayor asks us to drink toast to Pre-Raphaelites remembering that they were all good socialists. Kind lady gets me cup of tea, but John Christian sportingly drinks toast. Off to Kirkby L. tomorrow, back Tuesday, Wednesday Iris arrives in London. Longing to see you all but M. tells me you’ve started teaching again, how can you manage and what would you like for Xmas

  will ring all my love Ma

  27a Bishop’s Road

  London, N6

  Sunday [1990]

  Dearest Tina,

  I was so cheered up when you rang, but felt furious with myself afterwards because (as always) I kept talking about all these unimportant problems of mine which aren’t really even problems, as they will solve themselves – but I didn’t like to ring back – however I really wanted to know about Kelly, and about your classes, and Luke’s (not Lukey’s, he was quite definite about that) school – as you left it, you were saying to me that it was most certainly something to remember all his life – a playground with the moors stretching away to the horizon in every direction – and he was getting on fine, but you wondered if there were any children there anywhere near his standard – and I wondered if that mattered to a child who was going to be outstanding anywhere, like Luke.

  Poor R. Dahl died (what of?) and there were TV pix of the Giant Peach, wh: made me think of Luke’s room, and his picture, with the teacher’s comments, which I’ve lain and looked at so often in the early morning.

  I also wanted to ask how dear P. was getting on, and whether Jemima still approved of the place wh: is privileged to look after her. But I never said anything about any of these things, nor do I expect you to answer them, but perhaps some time, at Christmas or after Christmas.

  Willie gave me such a beautiful picture of you (she tore it out of her album) taken when we went up to Yorkshire – you were younger than Jemima is now, but Thomas thought it was Jemima, and the expression is exactly the same – serious, but immensely hopeful –

  so much love to you all

  Ma

  [1990]

  [incomplete]

  …hasn’t sold any of the tickets at all, which is scarcely surprising considering he’s charging £37.50 for them. He says there are lavish refreshments, but who wants to go and eat lavish refreshments at Channings. Meanwhile I’m bracing myself up to tell Jeannie I’ll do some weeding (I’m never allowed to spray) as I’d much rather do that than go and sit in a hide on the reservoir waiting for spoonbills. When they were working they never used to do anything on their days off because they were so tired, and I think that that really suited me better.

  I’ve been listening to a sermon on the radio about preparation for dying, wh: he called the Last and Most Dreadful Journey of All, this is true of course but I do find it more than a bit depressing. Afterwards there was a Handel concerto, such a relief as he sounded as if he hadn’t a worry in the world, though I believe he had plenty.

  Kindly letter from Nan Talese at Doubleday saying that they are not doing too badly with the Gate of A. in spite of total ruin in the publishing industry and she would like to make arrangements about the next novel but alas there is no next novel.

  It was a treat for me to see Paschal’s school. I did not stare at him as that would not have done, but sitting at the other table I could see what he was doing and he worked so well and industriously and was enjoying it so much and enjoying doing it right, as of course children of that age do. It was quite hard work for them I thought but I suppose there are more recreations after lunch – much love to all Ma

  [postcard]

  [1990]

  Please let me prune the rose again this spring. Fertiliser also needed of course although honeysuckles never seem to need anything.

  27a Bishop’s Road

  London, N6 4HP

  Wednesday [c.1990/91]

  Dearest Tina –

  I love Hope Cottage, the green, the elms, the rooks, the view, the new cooker and everything about it, and had a wonderful 2 days and it was such a treat to be collected from Sheepwash,* and to have Luke show me round Castle Drogo. How amazing he is Tina. I’d give so much to know what is in store for him. You and Terry were so patient during the difficult time* and as a result he’s growing up with all his self-confidence intact and the move has done him no harm, quite the contrary.

  You said to me ‘Paschal will talk’** and of course he will, I never doubted it, but the way you said it was very heartening, and I daresay when Jemima starts to talk t
hey will understand each other better than anybody. P. manages very well considering his intelligence is so very much all there but doesn’t get the supplies (yet) that other children do and he has to rely to a great extent on his own inner world.

  The escalator up to the Archway Road is back! Smiling operative says You better ride up and down on it, lady, before they shut it again – but I can only hope it lasts till you all come. – John has taken a day off to mend large numbers of things including my bath taps, which suddenly wouldn’t turn off. – I thought your plans were all admirable – the lean-to in particular, though I suppose the kittens will all move in – ‘all’ if they increase, as they might do at any moment since you say you can’t tell their age. – Please don’t think I was criticising the Great Hamper, I can assure you I didn’t mean to. Dressing-up things are of vital importance and last their whole childhood and the Hamper is just what you needed. New York Times rings up again to say they are putting in ‘a few sentences’ about Van Gogh (wh: they pronounce Van Go’: is that right?) and Cézanne as these are the only artists the readers have heard of, it seems. Article ruined in consequence but no matter.

  Valpy rings up to say Red Cross and U.N.O. are sending him to Cambodia for a month, the President of Cambodia read some of his articles and asked him to advise, I can’t help worrying as Khmer Rouge invasion in full swing and shall be so glad when he’s back, poor old Angie must feel rather desperate. No post in and out of Cambodia. I rang up Rawle to ask him how dangerous it was and Rawle himself I’m afraid is very poorly as his back is so painful he can hardly walk, doc has taken x-rays – I know it’s really bad as Helen came onto the line stammering frightfully. – But oh what a nice time I had at Milton Abbot. – I hope Terry had a good journey back, at least – wind seems to have dropped – much love Ma

  Have been asked to judge next year’s Arts Council £5000 bursaries for novelists – 32 novels to read, but might be able to get something for some crony. – I am going to ring up soon to ask what you want for Xmas! Gloom and despair! But you did say you had a number of things in mind.

  [1991]

  Dearest Tina-

  Not sure of price of Just What I Wanted as I know you kindly got it from another catalogue, so enclose £20, tell me if it’s not enough or if it doesn’t cover postage won’t you. Thankyou so much, I’d given up all hope. Of course if you should see a small armchair…

  I see Maura* is appearing at the Islington Literary Festival tonight – it says her recent Explaining Magnetism ‘was hailed by the Literary Review’, wh: I don’t see – but if I come to Marshville again – if I’m asked, I mean – please do let me read the poems as I’m hopelessly behind.

  John off to Singapore to inspect the risks, I think, but may well be wrong.

  I foolishly went to PEN who are getting impossible and want to buy a grand new writers’ house (Cath. Cookson sportingly says she’ll give £100,000) and was nabbed by I. Quigley and asked to write a ‘serious article’ in a New Tablet series, but what about? I thought of the difficulties of teachers, but I don’t know where to get the material. The Tablet of course never pays anything. They call this an ‘honorarium’.

  I wonder if sedum would do well in your garden. It is tough and flowers quite late. I’m sure you have too many suggestions.

  So glad you had that marvellous weather on Saturday.

  Haven’t seen Sense and S. yet, but think it absurd that Edward should be a painter –

  27a Bishop’s Road

  London, N6

  [1995]

  Just a note on one of my superior cards – deeply impressed by your having headed writing paper already – I enclose the £600 wh. I hope will help a bit, I think you’ve done marvels on the move and can hardly believe you’re welcoming visitors already but I know that’s your way – will post this now – I’ve told them at Dartington (where organiser writes that ‘the parched landscape looks more like Provence than Devon’) that you’ll come and take me away some time on Friday, 1 Sept – I’m afraid it’s farther than I thought but I look forward to it very much

  love, Ma

  23 November [1995]

  Dearest Tina –

  Am sending labels and cheque now as I don’t know when you’ll have time for another raid on Plymouth and must get some wrapping paper when I know what is to be wrapped. I thought Terence might like the all-in-one life of Ivy Compton B, but otherwise I suppose the familiar old book token.

  Poor Mary is in rather a state because ‘the darkies’ are preventing her from looking after Monica. I think the trouble is that Monica is really quite ill. It’s a pity because the art teacher, though terrifyingly bright, is really encouraging Mary a lot and the genial chiropodist (whatever makes anyone take up chiropody?) was giving everyone treatment and trying to raise a smile with little jests. Janet writes that she has given a party for 100 in the village she lives in near Pau. How can she be so energetic, or rather how can I have got so decrepit? And Nancy tells me she is getting up a dramatisation of The Pillars of the House for the new Charlotte M Yonge Fellowship (which is causing great rage and anguish to the superior and ladylike Charlotte M Yonge Society – restricted to 24 members)

  Marina Warner came to lecture at the Highgate Institute on Tues. – embarrassing as the members had made a clean sweep of all the sandwiches and canapés by the time she got into the reading room. It might have been an Oxfam distribution.

  If Luke has an end of term photograph please let me have one –

  much love to everyone Ma

  Monday [c.1996]

  Dearest Tina – This card is not at all nice enough for P.,* but even at Muswell Hill they haven’t anything such as I should wish, and the thing is for it to arrive in time. And I’d be very grateful if you could get one of the things on his list (not too well understood by me) – meanwhile I have to think seriously about what Luke would like.

  Alfie’s eye seems much better now, but Ria has a kind of flu-like feeling, which I’m sure comes of doing so many things at once. Many costumes have been made for the play, which seem to me to need much more work than anyone could fairly ask of the mothers. – you have to tear up materials (gaily variegated) into strips and attach them at the neck [illustration] – but Thomas seems quite pleased at taking part, and like all his friends he’s very bored with this last term at primary. Michael has a large part (but his father now seems rather worryingly ill).

  Joan (Theo’s mother) died last week, I think simply worn out with dragging up and down to St John’s Wood to look after Theo – I can’t think how he’ll manage without her. I heard from Desmond (who lived in the basement) at Christmas, but he is determined never to go and live in the house again.

  Wednesday is the dreaded day when I have to get down to the Gargoyle to have lunch and judge the poets – now that everyone knows how very old I am I expect not to be asked to judge anything again, but this doesn’t distress me as I’m finding it more and more difficult. – (There was one poem I liked very much, but I don’t know whether I’ve still got the energy to fight for it and I expect I shall be trodden underfoot.)

  V. interested in news of your garden – the things that are making headway are all practically wild and I’m sure that’s the important thing – the clematis Montana will do so much for you in spring and all it asks is to be left alone.

  Looking forward so much to seeing all of you –

  Much love from Ma

  27a Bp’s Road

  [1997]

  Dearest Tina,

  I meant to send this at once and got it ready and didn’t send it, more evidence that my mind is weakening. I hope it’s not too late for you to get something – I used to get presents for the dons, but I realised from what you said that their day is done. Try not to indulge melancholy thoughts about this.

  The Guardian rang up (they never ring me up usually) to ask for Five Wishes for the World for 1998. I couldn’t think of anything, except to abolish off-road motoring, and have those little packets of salt in cr
isps again. Of course they meant serious thoughts about world affairs, but the truth is, my horizons are shrinking.

  We had snow here, and Eddie seems unwilling to go outside at all. On Sunday I have to go to Jane Hodge’s 80th birthday, in Wimbledon, I ask you. She said ‘no presents’ because she doesn’t want to carry them back with her to Lewes by train. Of course, I should have sent something by post, but I’ve only just thought of this –

  much love to you all

  Ma

  27a Bishop’s Road

  N6 4HP

  Tuesday [1998]

  Dearest Tina,

  This is just for when you’re able to eat again,* and to say how worried I am about you. It’s been such a long time, but you don’t need me to tell you that.

  Alice in Wonderland went off well at St Michael’s – Sophie was one of the playing cards painting the rose-tree, and Ria recalled having taken the same part, but where could it have been? Parents loyally served wine and sandwiches, and collected large sums for the lighting, which eccentric Mr Williams, advancing from the stage, says is on the blink. – Valpy came to lunch on Monday – John did swordfish with lemon, and baked apples with raspberry coulis – Valpo looked well, but is not at all doing what the doctor ordered, just back from Washington. He says he has a high cholesterol level, but Ria bracingly says that doctors admit now they can’t measure it accurately. His job lasts till next February, and after that he has to find commissions, but he doesn’t seem worried by this. Of course, Angie is going to teach, but this won’t improve things financially as V. has been claiming her as an administrative assistant against tax all these years. Laurence on the other hand is giving up the designer shoe-shop, and is going to teach English at some of Oxford’s numerous schools for foreign students. Surely this is a step up. Greg has already been asked to lecture on his subject, wh: turns out to be thermal physics, at some Italian university, although he still hasn’t finished his never-ending course. He has no plans to marry Lidia and Valpy says, perhaps as a joke, that she may be getting anxious, and Greg must remember that her brother is a guardia civil.