Sweet Sorrow

by David Roberts

  ‘I’m not quite sure why but, yes, I do not believe either of you to be a murderer. And I agree that it would be quite unnecessary to distress your friend any further. You have answered all my questions frankly so let’s leave it at that, shall we?’

  Edward raised his hat and breathed a sigh of relief. He very much hoped he was not deceived.

  15

  Dinner that night was strained even though it was warm enough to eat out on the terrace, which should have soothed the most untranquil breast. Added to which, Mrs Brendel had surpassed herself with roast pork followed by her special jam pancakes which Edward blamed for the few pounds he had added to his rangy frame in the short time she had been cooking for them.

  Virginia, he was pleased to note, seemed less worried about the possibility that her world might soon be destroyed by German bombs and Leonard, too, was almost relaxed though he constantly watched his wife out of the corner of his eye, like a bird guarding its nest. Edward thought this vigilance might actually unsettle her. Of course, it was understandable that, in her fragile mental state, Leonard should be always looking for signs of nervous collapse but at least tonight Virginia seemed at peace.

  Edward thought how beautiful she was. Not pretty – her face was equine and her skin sallow – but there was a languor in the way she moved which was sensuous in the extreme and her eyes, when she shot a glance across the table, were brilliant. It was as though the power of her intellect was such that it had to be shaded but, when unveiled, shed a cool, clear beam – like that of a lighthouse – over what she observed. It could be disconcerting and Edward noticed that even Verity occasionally checked herself in mid-sentence, feeling that what she was saying was not as clever or profound as she had thought.

  Tommie Fox and Paul Fisher were almost silent, hardly listening to the conversation, and Edward wondered whether there had been some sort of row when Tommie had gone over to the vicarage that morning. What argument had he used to try and get Paul to overcome his dislike of Verity and his disapproval of her way of life? Whatever it was, it had been enough to get his friend to the dinner table even if he would not join in the conversation. He had shaken Verity’s hand when he arrived but had not looked her in the eye and Edward felt that he ought not to have come if he were going to be so boorish. He could see that Verity was hurt and Tommie’s stumbling attempts to cover his friend’s silence only made things worse.

  It was not until they got on to the subject of women’s education that Paul spoke. Virginia had been complaining that, although there were now women’s colleges at Cambridge, women were not awarded degrees or regarded as full members of the university.

  ‘Dorothy Garrod, Pernel’s predecessor as Principal of Newnham,’ she said, referring to Pernel Strachey, one of Lytton Strachey’s sisters, ‘was elected Disney Professor of Archaeology last year. She is the first woman to hold a Professorial Chair but, can you believe, she’s not permitted to speak or vote on the affairs of her own department let alone the university as a whole! Quite absurd but there you are – at least at Cambridge – it’s still a man’s world.’

  Paul grunted that, in his view, educating women to university standard was even more absurd and hardly prepared them for a life looking after their husbands and children. ‘I have a niece at Newnham – Catherine, my sister’s child,’ he said. ‘I have often argued with her but she’s a strong-minded girl and was adamant that she should take the place offered her despite my saying that she was wasting her time. I only permitted it because my sister lives in Cambridge and can keep an eye on her.’

  There was a hint of pride in his voice, perhaps at the idea that she had proved to be as intransigent as her uncle. Verity and Virginia exchanged glances but managed to restrain themselves. Leonard and Edward were less inhibited by good manners and did not hesitate to tell Paul that he was behind the times. When Tommie made it clear that he, too, approved of women having an equal opportunity to benefit from a university education, his friend retreated into a sulk.

  Later, over the pancakes, the conversation turned to the new divorce laws. Predictably, Paul disagreed with the general view that easier divorce was in general a ‘good thing’. He declared that adultery was unforgivable and particularly to be condemned in a woman.

  ‘What father,’ he asked rhetorically, ‘would regard fornication with the same horror if his son was the sinner as he would if his daughter had besmirched herself?’

  When Edward declared it was iniquitous that divorce did not necessarily ruin a man’s reputation but meant that a woman could never regain her position in society, Paul interjected, ‘That’s exactly as it should be.’

  ‘So you don’t agree that divorce should be granted on the grounds of desertion, cruelty or drunkenness?’ Leonard put in.

  ‘I do not,’ Paul replied emphatically. ‘There is no divorce in the eyes of God.’

  ‘Well,’ Tommie said bravely, ‘I can’t agree. Marriages do break down and staying together unhappily is not what the God I believe in would want. And, more often than not, the children suffer when their parents are unhappy.’

  ‘Certainly, anything is better than the absurd charade couples have to go through at the moment if they want to divorce,’ Leonard continued. ‘To prove adultery to the satisfaction of the divorce court, a husband has to spend an uncomfortable night with a prostitute in Brighton. He also has the indignity of having to pay a private detective to witness the “adultery” so he can protect the reputation of a completely different woman. In my view, the hypocrisy is worse than the sin which gave rise to it. I suppose, Paul, that means you don’t agree with birth control either?’

  ‘I certainly do not. Sex within marriage is for procreation and there’s an end of it.’ For a moment, Edward was sure Paul would throw down his napkin and storm out of this godless household but for some reason he remained seated, looking thunderous.

  Edward was quite certain some personal tragedy underpinned Paul’s views on sex and marriage but could not begin to guess what it might be. Paul had never been married, according to Tommie, but maybe the sister he had mentioned had been betrayed in some way.

  Talk of Cambridge led Virginia to mention that she had accepted an invitation to lecture at Newnham later that week.

  ‘I have lectured there before but this is rather different. Pernel’s a very old friend and during the long vacation she has been given permission to experiment with adult education for women who did not go to university but now want to educate themselves. As you probably know, Morley College does the same sort of thing. I have given the scheme my whole-hearted support. It’s much better than leaving the college buildings empty during the summer vacation. I’m not a good lecturer but Pernel says it is important that they are given by . . . well, by people who have something worth saying. The students must not be fobbed off with something inferior. Better not to offer the courses at all than make do with second-rate lectures by second-rate lecturers, as I’m sure you would agree.’

  ‘But are they just for women?’ Verity asked.

  ‘At this stage, it’s thought better not to be too ambitious and invite men. Perhaps some of the men’s colleges will eventually offer similar courses to those who have missed out on a university education. I like to do what I can because I know how difficult it is being an outsider in a world where, despite the efforts of Mrs Pankhurst, the male of the species is king.’ She glanced at Paul but he would not meet her eye. ‘I want to tell them that they must never let themselves be bullied by men into thinking that they are freaks or failures and that women deserve to be educated to the same standard as men. Any sensible man,’ she looked at Edward, ‘finds a woman with a brain much more interesting than one content to be a mere appendage.’

  Edward nodded his head in agreement. ‘As you can see, it’s not Verity’s looks which attracted me to her.’

  Verity laughed. ‘I don’t think all women should go to university. I’ve never felt the absence of a university education myself.’

  ‘
Your spelling might be better if you had been to university,’ Edward joked.

  ‘Who cares about spelling?’ Virginia rebuked him. ‘My spelling’s atrocious, isn’t it, Leonard?

  ‘Creative, certainly. Look, I have had an idea – why don’t you two come with us to Cambridge? You could show Verity your old haunts, Edward, and dine with us and Pernel after the lecture.’

  ‘Do you really mean it?’ Edward asked. ‘To tell you the truth, I had thought about doing just that while there’s still time. What about it, V?’

  ‘Why not? I’d enjoy seeing the place which stamped itself so indelibly on you. As far as I can see, if you haven’t been to Eton or Winchester, Oxford or Cambridge you are not permitted to rule this country.’

  ‘And don’t forget, you have to be male,’ Virginia added.

  ‘Well, that’s excellent.’ Leonard sounded genuinely pleased. ‘Virginia and I will go separately because you’ll want to get to Cambridge earlier than us, but we could meet at Newnham at five fifteen. Virginia’s lecture is to begin at five thirty. After it’s over, we repair to the Common Room for drinks and then dinner. Of course, it won’t be grand but the food will be eatable even if the wine isn’t up to much and it’s a very worthy cause. Then you can either drive home or . . .’

  ‘We could stay with an old friend of mine. He’s the don who put me on the right track when I very nearly got derailed,’ Edward said.

  ‘That’s fixed then. I shall warn Pernel that we’ll be two extra for dinner. Paul, would you or Mr Fox . . .?’

  ‘As it happens, I will be in Cambridge on Friday,’ Tommie said. ‘I was telling Edward yesterday that I am spending a few nights there with a friend.’

  ‘Then you’ll come?’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Woolf, I’d be delighted to attend the lecture but I won’t come to the dinner if you don’t think it rude.’

  ‘What about you, Paul?’ Leonard asked.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Paul replied gruffly. ‘I must stay here and tend my flock.’

  Edward wasn’t sure if he was being ironic because Paul’s ‘flock’ could very well manage without its shepherd for a night. However, he was relieved that Paul would not be there, glowering at any mention of women’s rights, so he didn’t press him to change his mind and nor did Leonard.

  ‘Will you, Edward and Tommie be the only men in the audience?’ Verity asked Leonard.

  ‘No, this particular lecture is not part of a course and is open to everyone. Given Virginia’s reputation, I can guarantee it will be well attended by men and women alike.’

  ‘Now you are making me nervous, Leonard. I hardly know why I agreed to speak. Pernel can be very persuasive . . .’

  It was another in a sequence of beautiful nights and they lingered on the terrace chatting, their guests reluctant to go home. Edward lit a cigar and Verity took a puff. When she had stopped coughing she said, ‘I shall never forget this night – all these nights.’ She stretched luxuriously, stifling a yawn. ‘When I was a Communist, I think this was the vision I had of utopia – intelligent conversation among equals under the stars.’

  ‘That’s it exactly,’ Virginia agreed. ‘A society of friends. I think friendship is the epitome of what it means to be civilized. Any man or woman can love but friendship is half an art and wholly a pleasure. Isn’t that something we can agree on, Paul?’

  ‘I have no need of friends, Virginia. I have God and He is my world.’

  ‘But surely Christ’s apostles were a group of friends?’ Edward saw Paul wince as if he considered this blasphemy. ‘I do not believe in God,’ Virginia continued, ‘but, if I did, I would find Him in my friends. Before the war, as I expect you know, there was a group of friends, including friends of mine such as Lytton Strachey and Morgan Forster, who called themselves The Apostles.’

  ‘Were women allowed to join the group?’ Verity inquired.

  ‘They were not,’ Virginia replied with a smile, ‘but then, any institution can be reformed and improved.’

  Paul rose slowly from his chair. ‘I cannot stay in this house a moment longer. To call your godless friends The Apostles is a calculated profanity and an insult to all good people. I was persuaded to come tonight so I could be made to understand that you were not the loose-living, anti-Christian so-called “free thinkers” I believed you to be. I know now that I should not have allowed myself to be persuaded. I shake the dust of this place off my shoes, grateful to be gone. And you,’ he said, pointing an accusing finger at Tommie, ‘ought to come with me.’

  Leaving the company shocked and silenced, he stumbled off into the night.

  16

  Edward always felt his heart beat faster when he came back to Cambridge. As Verity had often remarked, he was what Eton and Cambridge had made him. Eton had given him security – the ‘family life’ of which he had been deprived at home. At Mersham, the attention had been focused on his eldest brother Frank who was killed in the first months of the war. After this tragedy, Gerald became heir to the dukedom. Edward, as the youngest of the three brothers, was ignored.

  He was packed off to school where he thrived. He worked hard and entered sixth form as someone to be reckoned with – the equal of the scholarship boys, or ‘tugs’ as they were called at Eton. In sport his straight eye and natural athleticism had been recognized with a bouquet of coloured caps and ties. He had been elected to Pop – the group of senior boys who effectively ran the school – and had left Eton in a cloud of privilege and popularity.

  Cambridge had been altogether more difficult. He could see in retrospect that he had done well at Eton in order to prove to his father that he was as worthy of attention as his elder brothers – particularly Frank, who had made the ultimate sacrifice. He had failed to make his point. His father had taken his success for granted. So, when he went up to the university he was, defiantly, intent on failing. He was bored by the work and hardly troubled to prove himself on the river or the cricket field. He was moody and made no real friends, content to lounge around with a few Etonians who had come up with him. In short, there was a very real possibility that he might ‘go to the bad’, get ‘sent down’, achieve nothing.

  Fortunately, one of the dons, George Greyshott, a medieval historian of some note, had taken him by the scruff of his neck and made him ‘buck up’. He had got the boy interested in his namesake, King Edward I – nicknamed ‘Longshanks’ and the Hammer of the Scots.

  Greyshott, or GG as he was known to the undergraduates, was now retired but, whenever Edward was in Cambridge, he went to see him in his cottage on the outskirts of the town. He had a spare room and Edward had used it once or twice when attending a dinner and was in no fit state to drive back to town. Like many dons, GG wasn’t a ladies’ man and Edward was a bit nervous about introducing him to Verity but thought there was a chance that these two rather awkward, sharp-edged people might get on.

  When Edward had telephoned to say he was going to be in Cambridge, he explained that, now he was married, he would quite understand if GG would find it more convenient if he and Verity put up at an hotel. To his delight, Greyshott had insisted that they stay with him. Apparently, he was an admirer of Verity’s journalism and wanted to hear her views on the Spanish Civil War and the current European crisis.

  The hall at Newnham was packed to the rafters but Edward and Verity had seats reserved for them in the front row. Just as the lecture was about to begin, Tommie rushed in, looking rather flurried, and sat down beside them.

  ‘It’s Paul,’ he hissed in Edward’s ear. ‘He’s in Cambridge and in a bad way. I’m very much afraid that he might do something stupid. He says he’s going to tell his niece that she must leave Newnham.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Edward hissed back.

  ‘No, nothing, thanks. I’ll go and keep an eye on him after the lecture.’

  Edward tried to concentrate as Pernel Stachey – pleasant-voiced, earnest but not without humour – opened the proceedings. She spent a good five minutes talking
about her friend Morgan Forster’s newly formed National Council for Civil Liberties before introducing Virginia in glowing terms.

  Verity looked about her with interest. It was the first time she had been in a Cambridge college and it reminded her of being back at school. The smell of unwashed girls was noticeable if not overpowering. The college bathrooms and lavatories were totally inadequate although the previous Principal had been heard to remark that she couldn’t see what the fuss was about as the summer term only lasted eight weeks.

  Perhaps predictably, Virginia had called her talk ‘A Room of One’s Own’. Ten years earlier, she had given a series of lectures at Newnham and Girton examining whether women were capable of producing work of the quality of William Shakespeare’s and suggesting that – until they had space and time for anything other than domestic work, and that usually meant a measure of financial independence – it was almost impossible for them to be writers and artists.

  This time she spoke about what had been done in the last decade to improve the lot of women, particularly those who wanted to participate in worlds which, until recently, were reserved solely for men. To Verity’s pleasure and embarrassment, she mentioned her by name and her work as a reporter of world events. Without having to turn his head, Edward could feel the audience craning to get a glimpse of her and felt proud.

  When the lecture was over, Virginia answered questions and was amused rather than offended when two questions were directed at Verity.

  ‘You must invite Verity to come and lecture,’ Virginia whispered to Pernel. ‘I think you would find that they would flock to hear her.’

  Pernel brusquely informed the questioners that they could talk to Verity later, insisting that, as a guest, she could not be expected to take questions from the platform and was certainly not obliged to answer any questions.

  When Virginia left the platform, she was immediately surrounded by a group of students – mostly women in their twenties or thirties but some older – who were eager to ask her about her work. She was even asked to sign copies of her books. Pernel frowned at this and would have stepped in to prevent it had not Virginia indicated that she did not mind.