The Wainwright Letters

by Hunter Davies

  AW’s divorce became official on June 24 1968. He was found guilty of mental cruelty and had to pay Ruth a lump sum of £4000 and £500 a year during her life time.

  Betty was by now also divorced, so they were able to go openly on holiday to Scotland. Betty had now decided not to go to London to complete an extra year for her SRN training.

  In October 1968, AW rewrote his will, which he presented in an envelope to Betty, but with strict instructions that she should not open the envelope until his death.

  LETTER 149: TO BETTY, 14 OCTOBER 1968

  To be opened only upon the death of Mr A. Wainwright

  Mrs Betty McNally

  Fowl Ing House,

  Kendal

  Not to be opened by any other person

  To Mrs Betty McNally

  14th October 1968

  Dear Betty,

  I have today made a Will in which I have provided that the residue of my estate and all income from royalties after my death shall, subject only to the deduction of the expenses of my Trustees, accrue to you and, after payment of income tax, be applied at your absolute discretion,

  Firstly, towards maintaining the standard of life to which you have been accustomed;

  Secondly, in continuing the annual payment of 15 pounds to Mr P.J.L. Hindle of 3 All Souls Terrace, Haley Hill, Halifax, to enable him to take a holiday each year in the Lake District;

  Thirdly, in replenishing from time to time the fund administered by the management of the Border Hotel, Kirk Yetholm, for Pennine Way walkers

  Fourthly, in making anonymous donations to animal charities which have as their primary object the care of animals, especially working animals, that would otherwise be put to sleep.

  These are my wishes, but you are free to use the money entirely as you think fit.

  In the event of your not wishing at any time to undertake this distribution please inform Mr C.G. Howson, of Messrs Holden and Wilsons, Solicitors, 2 Castle Hill, Lancaster, and let him have the enclosed envelope to pass to Mr Firth (who will continue to act according to the instructions it contains) without disclosing to Mr Firth that you have hitherto been the recipient of this money.

  Goodbye, love, and thanks for a thousand kindnesses.

  If there is another life, I will be waiting for you.

  Red

  Part 14

  Letters to Molly, 1968–70

  While all these personal dramas were going on, AW was still working away on his books. The Pennine Way Companion was published in 1968 and he then started working on a series of Lakeland Sketchbooks.

  In 1968, he also agreed to do the illustrations for a children’s book which Molly Lebebure had written. He was still in contact with Molly, still without having met her, writing her amusing and sometimes flirtatious letters, despite the arrival of Betty, but he never mentions Betty by name or refers to his divorce.

  Molly had written a story about an expedition of cats to a great mountain – on the lines of the Everest Expedition, only set on Scafell. She sent him the manuscript and he did her some sketches. Her agent had never heard of AW, but her publisher had, Livia Gollancz, who was a Lake District lover.

  There then started a lengthy correspondence about the illustrations with AW being rather stroppy, trying to impose his views and knowledge. The book was originally going to be called ‘Red Rowan’s Paw of Friendship’, which AW hated. Miss Gollancz did not it like either, and the title was changed to Scratch and Co. It was published in the UK in 1968 with some success, and in France and the USA. (In those countries, the publishers had not heard of Wainwright and commissioned their own illustrations.)

  LETTER 150: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, UNDATED, 1968

  THE DIAGRAM OF THE ROUTE OF THE EXPEDITION

  You persist in calling this a map, which it isn’t. It is a diagram.

  I have made the snowline occur at about 2000’, just about the level of Sprinkling Tarn. You were right about snow being easier to draw than fields of boulders; in fact, snow doesn’t have to be drawn at all. The result is that the higher mountains are left white except where smooth ground is interrupted by crags or heavy scree, and this permits a clearer definition of the route.

  I had many doubts about the Cat Kingdom flag. Reading your letter of instructions it seemed that you had intended to let me have a rough design but omitted to do so; then, on a second reading, it seemed that you wanted me to have a shot at it, which I have done; but now I am wondering whether the narrative itself contains details of the design and I failed to notice the passage. If this is so, you must amend the story, or make it clear that a special expedition flag was used in addition to the national flag.

  You may notice a small patch on the diagram near Stockley Bridge. This hides a burn mark caused by my pipe spilling onto the paper in a moment of tense excitement, but will not show on the printed picture.

  The diagram has been drawn to bleed, but if Livia wants a margin half-an-inch can be sliced off the left-hand edge without loss of anything material except the name ‘Esk Hause’, which is not really important, being mentioned once only in the story.

  THE BOOK JACKET

  It’s the title that gives me the pip. It is clumsy, and too long. Worse, it must be spread over two lines, the first ending in a blessed apostropheess, which is shockingly bad. ‘Red Rowan’s Paw’ on the first line and ‘Of Friendship’ on the second is worse still. The book obviously should be titled RED ROWAN, quite simply; then it could appear in bold stark lettering. I, too, have conducted a consumer research in the matter, my sample for interrogation being a most attractive woman, and she agrees with me absolutely. I think your title is untidy, too long to endure into immortality, and ill conceived. RED ROWAN is good, pithy, rememberable.

  You know I have doubts about the drawing appearing in colour. You have already told me that the bookshops insist on coloured jackets for children’s books. My own view is that you are more likely to sell well by being original and not conforming to pattern, certainly not a pattern dictated by booksellers. In this particular case, you are describing a bold adventure, an expedition into (for cats) uncharted territory, and the cover should suggest something of the old scrolls and maps used in Drake’s days, which were roughly hand-drawn with flourishes, and certainly not in three or four colours. As I have told you before, if you leave the colouring to a printer who has never seen anything higher than Box Hill he will paint Scafell Crag a violent green, which no part of it is: it is grey and brown and ochre, never green. He will colour Red Rowan in puce, not recognising him as a fox (can’t really blame him for that), and he will colour our lovely snow-covered ledges and terraces daffodil yellow … well, it’s your pigeon. You’ve decided on colour. So be it. I disagree.

  LETTER 151: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, 2 DECEMBER 1968

  38 Kendal Green, Kendal

  2nd December 1968

  Dear Molly,

  Can you ever forgive me?

  I take back all I said. I was ruthlessly unkind to you.

  I have just seen your photograph in an Ambleside bookshop.

  Such an open and frank and honest countenance.

  Such grace, such charm. No trace of the ravages of alcohol.

  Such a well-proportioned figure (upper half only visible).

  Indeed, such beauty. An Anglo-Franco rose, no less.

  I have been a blind fool. What do scraggy thighs matter, after all?

  I think you are super.

  Incidentally, there is a Scottish terrier in the picture with you. Hamish, no doubt. But the caption to the picture says ‘Molly Lefebure and Scratch’.

  Enclosed is a review of ‘Scratch & Co’ from the Westmorland Gazette of a few weeks ago, which you may not have seen. I hope the book is selling well.

  I had a wonderful holiday in Scotland, the best ever. Partly and primarily due to the attractiveness of my companion, who has all your good looks and thighs as well. We went in a car, she driving, me tickling her ears and enjoying the scenery. Which, even as late as the end of Oc
tober, was superb. After the mild summer, the leaves were still on the trees, making a most gorgeous riot of yellows and reds and bronzes. I withdraw what I have said before, that Lakeland is lovelier than the Highlands of Scotland. It isn’t. In fact, after seeing the Scottish glens in autumn, it beats me why people rave about the Lake District.

  Tell me I am forgiven, even after saying that.

  Tell me we are good friends again.

  Tell me anything, except that you have gone off me.

  I think you are super.

  AW

  The photo AW had seen of Molly shows her with her dog Hamish.

  AW and Molly then made plans to do further children’s books set in the Lake District, though only one more was ever published: The Hunting of Wilberforce Pike, which came out in 1970.

  LETTER 152: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, 2 APRIL 1969

  38 Kendal Green, Kendal

  2nd April 1969

  Dear Molly,

  No, I’m not dead.

  I’ve been frenetically busy, that’s why.

  But really I should have replied to your last letter much earlier than this, and thanked you for the gorgeous photograph. It’s super. Such an appealing pose, such grooming, such charm, such wistfulness and yearning in those soft eyes! Yes, I could fall for Hamish. You’re not half bad yourself, either. Thank you for this picture.

  I’ve been frenetically busy because a deadline has been set for the two books I am doing, and, as usual, I am pressed for time. I have undertaken to finish A LAKELAND SKETCHBOOK (which, incidentally, is now planned to be the first of a series of five companion volumes – if enough people buy it) by June 30th for publication on September 30th, and WALKS IN LIMESTONE COUNTRY by the end of the year for publication next Easter. In addition I have resumed my assault on the garden, and, in an attempt to make the desert blossom as the rose, I have turned over much virgin ground and planted 600 bulbs and plants, not a single one of which is as yet showing any signs of life. Waiting to be done is the laying of a parquet floor, and the writing up of an acquisition book for Abbot Hall Art Gallery.

  So I received your commission for the illustrating of two new Scratch books with some consternation. You know jolly well I can’t refuse you anything, and I’ll have a shot at them, utterly regardless of my own convenience, but I do hope you’ll proceed tardily with the writing of them. Yes, Dove Crag would be a fine place for the wilful murder of the cat-thieves by Scratch and Co., and there are some mammoth boulders crowned with lush vegetation just below the rocks that would serve as hiding places and vantage points for the ambush. I should need to go there again for pictures, not having any photographs of the crag (it’s almost always in deep shadow). Or there is Deer Bield Crag in Easedale – another good spot for a dark deed, with Easedale Tarn handy to throw the bodies in. Or what about a chase up Jack’s Rake on Pavey Ark, which everybody knows and would recognise from your description, with a watery bier in Stickle Tarn? Let’s make it a really gruesome murder – eyes scratched out, ears torn off, guts hanging out, etc., I think that cat-thieves should suffer horrific deaths. And folk who send dogs for vivisection. So I am all for a bit or moralising.

  For the third book I am not so sure about the Coniston mines. Remember that these are mainly straight shafts and therefore could not be used by cats. (You might get into trouble, too, for giving publicity to these death traps, as happened to me; there’s talk of filling up the holes, anyway). Better for feline adventures would be the Tilberthwaite or Little Langdale slate quarries, where access is gained by horizontal tunnels – there are some beauties on the fellside above Slaters Bridge, and here too is Lanty Slee’s Cave, in which you could have an hilarious interlude as Scratch and Co. try their hand (paw) at whisky distilling.

  Sorry you won’t let me do a drawing of L.H.S. but I will, someday, just the same. I’ll come heavily disguised, with an unshaven chin, limping and wearing a tattered raincoat (perhaps not such a heavy disguise, now I come to think of it). I may knock at the door and ask the way up Robinson. Merely to get a peep at dear old Hamish, of course. Such a sweet little fellow. Such grooming, such charm …

  AW

  LETTER 153: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, 30 MAY 1969

  38 Kendal Green

  KENDAL

  30th May 1969

  Dear Molly,

  Correspondence between us would be more facile if I knew where the hell you were living at any given time. You send me a letter from Surbiton and I naturally reply to Surbiton and then you write from L.H.S. to ask why haven’t I written and then I write to L.H.S. to say I have and then comes a letter from Surbiton to see if I’m ill. THIS letter I shall address to Surbiton. I expect your next to come from L.H.S…. No, I am not ill. Judging by recent performances of one sort of another I am in the prime of life.

  The letter I am now replying to came from Surbiton and was written in your very best vein, full of choice turns of phrase (‘swirling cloud which occasionally lifted sufficiently to show the magnificent Mrs Shepperd perched like a sentinel on the ridge’) with scant regard for grammar (‘which’ should be ‘that’ in the quote); of graphic description (‘off into the sluicing downpour we sloshed’); of juicy anecdotes in the dialect (‘it were t’muck smoking, like’) of word inventiveness (‘edentulous’; ‘yoiked’). A richly humorous letter describing hilarious situations: the sort you do better than anyone else. I don’t reckon much of your children’s books even though they go mad about them in Chicago (it’s the illustrations that sell them, I always think), and in your serious delvings into history and tradition you are merely following others, less worthy no doubt, but your true forte is humorous story-telling and I am surprised you do not launch forth as a female Jerome K. Jerome and beat him hollow at his own game. ‘Three Women In A Tent’, set in flooded Borrowdale, is simply crying out for your attention. I have kept all your correspondence. I wish you’d be quick and die and then I could pick up a fortune by publishing posthumously ‘The Letters Of Molly Lefebure’, They’d go mad about this in Sarawak.

  Incidentally, I don’t want to charge you with double-crossing me, but didn’t we agree that the Cumbrian Literary Society was a collection of undersexed morons, or something of the sort? You only have to write a four-line ‘Ode to a Pansy’ to get into that mob, and it needn’t even rhyme. Yet I find that, according to their syllabus, they are to be addressed this summer by Mollie (yes Mollie) Lefebure, the author (sic.). Shame on you, turncoat! If you see in your audience a man not wearing a white carnation in his buttonhole it won’t be me. I stick to my principles. Anyway, since you have committed yourself, don’t forget to remind them that Wainwright’s Guides are obtainable in all good bookshops in the district. I don’t know what’s come over you. Even Griffin has addressed the Cumbrian Literary Society, and you can’t get any lower than that.

  Yes, as I promised before (I don’t change my mind) I will do you the honour of illustrating your second cat book, but not until the end of July. I will do a jacket showing the cat-thief hanging on to an imaginary precipice on Striding Edge with a bunch of cats hissing and spitting at him and clawing his clutching fingertips (they’ll howl in Lyons when they see this). I will draw a map of their wandering for a frontispiece. I will do up to a dozen tailpieces. Livia’s generous fee should be sent to the Bleakholt Animal Sanctuary, Ramsbottom, Lancs, the patron of which, by the way, is the Duchess of Argyll, Margaret, the third existing of that ilk, of whose exploits you will doubtless have heard. I have met her by invitation at a remote rendezvous on a desolate Lancashire hillside (what better place for it?) and returned unsullied from the encounter. Livia’s fee will buy food for her poor unwanted animals, for which she has a quite genuine compassion … So, you see, I can now number the nobility amongst my acquaintances as well as lesser fry like authors of cat books.

  Love and so forth, as you so naively put it. Old Gerrish won’t last for ever. Hand in hand we may still climb Dale Head together, just you and me and the magnificent Mrs Shepperd.

  AW

&
nbsp; AW could be rather cruel about Molly’s children’s books, but she said she was not upset. It was just his way. AW really did meet the Duchess of Argyll, through the animal charity Bleakholt Animal Sanctuary, of which she was the Patron. He and Betty helped them a lot, after he had finally fallen out with the RSPCA and the collapse of his suggested animal refuge.

  The reference to Mrs Shepperd concerns a rumour about a well known member of the local hunt. According to local gossip she and her husband slept with a badger in their bed, which led to various confusions in the night.

  LETTER 154: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, 2 AUGUST 1969

  38 Kendal Green, KENDAL

  2nd August 1969

  Dear Molly,

  Please confirm that you are not dead.

  If you are, there is not much point in reading further, and I would just like to say how deeply sorry I am. Right in the prime of life, too, and at the peak of performance. I am sadly distressed.

  If you are not, then I am writing to say that I am ready to draw cats, having just completed my book of drawings and before I resume my shelved epic on the limestone country.

  I feel very alone. I haven’t heard from you for ages. I know you can’t write to me if you’re dead, but damn, after all we’ve been to each other, you might at least try to appear before me as a spirit.

  Farewell, if necessary,

  AW

  LETTER 155: TO MOLLY LEFEBURE, 8 APRIL 1970

  38 Kendal Green, Kendal

  8th April 1970

  Dear Moll,

  They say exchange is no robbery, and here is my swap for the copy of your classic CUMBRIAN HERITAGE, which is very good indeed, obviously the result of much painstaking research and unrecognizable as the product of the same brain that gave birth to the much less distinguished legends of Scratch and Co. I enjoyed it immensely, and my apprehension that you may have courted notoriety by denouncing me as a fake who describes as coachroads rough tracks where coaches have never passed was, happily, without foundation. You are very kind to me. You could have exposed me as counterfeit, but you generously refrained. I am still sceptical about the gutter on Sty Head Pass, which I prefer to regard as a pristine part of the original roadway. However, a very fine book, the result of much hard work and an entertaining and instructive account of Cumberland as it used to be. Now say something nice about WALKS IN LIMESTONE COUNTRY, out this week.