by Doreen Bates
Lunched hastily with E who could only manage yesterday as his General Inspection began today. He went with Margot and me to the Friends’ House to hear Joad on Ends and Means. It was so nice to be doing something with him again. Joad was good and we liked the Quaker atmosphere. There were some extraordinary people there. I got back at 2.30 just in time to sign my letters before B called about Russell. Perhaps it was the contrast that made him seem so unsympathetic. I don’t think I am intellectually sniffy, especially with people I like otherwise. Still, it is a relief to communicate with a man moving in the same intellectual atmosphere – E, or this evening, Mac, who told me about Scarlatti and discussed the different types of introspection of Bach and Beethoven.
FRIDAY 14 JANUARY
Yesterday was Rosa’s birthday. Rosa took us to St John Ervine’s Robert’s Wife. It is a play of which the main theme is: should a wife have a career? But it raises incidentally the question of pacifism (there is a boy sentenced to imprisonment for sedition parallel to the Phillips case), the church’s attitude to immorality, marriage, birth control, the dependence of ‘good works’ on the whims of the wealthy etc. A good evening’s mouthful and if it didn’t solve any of them one could hardly expect a mere play to succeed where science, politics and organized religion and economics fail. Edith Evans was a joy. Her zest, her artistic integrity and intelligence make her one of the most interesting actresses I have seen.
This morning I received from B a letter and the papers relating to his affair with Mary, which he sent to me to show me why he was suspicious. He rang me up halfway through. The upshot of it was I had half a day’s leave and spent it with him in HP and tea afterwards. He was nice and felt better. The letter I wrote him on Wed (in which I said truly what I felt, i.e. that I wanted him to be happy but I could not do anything for him unless he could trust me, quoting ‘Perfect love casteth out fear’) seemed to have pleased him. Anyway, he liked me and accordingly I liked him. He said (in spite of all he has said on the other side), ‘If I had the means I would marry you tomorrow.’ He bought 6 peaches and gave them to me as I dashed into Charing Cross station.
SATURDAY 22 JANUARY
My head is aching so that I can hardly see but I must note what has happened since it may affect so much.
I lunched with E on Thursday and began to tell him about B and my doubts what to do. It was difficult and I had to go slowly so as not to cry so I hadn’t said much when we had to go. I was in a turmoil for the rest of the day and couldn’t sleep so I wrote to him. (He had said K was better or I wouldn’t have talked to him at all.) Posted it yesterday morning and had a day’s leave – went to Brighton with Rosa. The main reason was to avoid B. I couldn’t face him or even talk to him on the phone as I was. This morning a letter from E – very upset. Also K was worse. I felt awful for having hurt him so and at such a time. Yet beneath all my misery, in spite of myself, my heart rejoiced for he said he would see me today if he could. He rang up and I met him at Waterloo. He was looking awful – hollow-eyed. Reminded me of the first few weeks of Goldstein. We walked round the station and I tried at first to be cool and matter of fact, knowing it would take very little to upset my self-control. He didn’t say much. I couldn’t say much. I didn’t see anyone but I tried not to cry for his sake. We found a dark tunnel under the trains and in this place we walked up and down. I don’t know what he said except to remark that this was where Whitbreads kept their beer and then found it was Black and White whisky instead. All I know is that my love for him just leapt up out of the careful wrappings I had tried to smother it in all these weeks and I knew I could never love anyone else with all my heart. I shall have to trust to my feelings. My reason and intelligence are useless and only mislead me.
Now I must tell B and that is hard. I am desperately sorry for him but it is better now than later.
TUESDAY 25 JANUARY
I am so happy I want to sing the Magnificat from the top of a mountain. For the time, anyway, all the darkness has disappeared and the sun shines again. I can hardly think at all. I am giddy with joy.
So briefly, what happened was this: on Sunday morning the sun was shining. I had just arranged to walk over Riddlesdown with the family when E rang up and asked me to come to Clapham Junction at 11.30 as he had written something on the situation. I thought I would take him my diaries to read as they are a more or less connected account of the development of the position. He was better than on Sat; he had slept. He had managed to take a more or less objective view. I did not realize just how difficult it would be for him as I did not in the least imagine how jealous he would feel. But he had made an effort and talked the thing over impersonally. He said first that if he was B he would take me on any terms, for my lust if not for my love. He asked quite a lot of questions about him. He gave me a connected account of his own sexual experience including more facts about his meeting with K than he had previously given me. He said he was surer than ever of the rightness of her love.
Riddlesdown Common in winter
We walked up and down a muddy field for an hour and then I caught the 12.37 back to Purley. I read his letter in the train and cried, but I had made my mind up already. Yesterday morning I rang him up. He sounded dreadful, had not slept or eaten, being quite upset by reading my diary. I wished for a minute I hadn’t given it to him but then was glad because it was better for him to know the worst. We arranged to lunch together. He gave them back to me. He did not reproach me for anything but not telling him the whole thing in detail earlier. He said, ‘I feel all right when I look at you.’ He had arranged to take half a day as he couldn’t work. I went back to the office and asked DJ for half a day too and we walked in the sunshine in the Park. I don’t know what we talked of. We went first to Rima and I sat down and looked at him. I felt like Isaiah’s poetry – ‘And sorrow and sighing shall flee away.’ It was a miracle of happiness, a true Easter. We looked at a moorhen. Finally we had tea at Mandes and he had a huge scone. We took a bus back to Marble Arch and he pinched me – just that.
I met B at 4.45 and we went straight to the Park and I told him I did not and could not love him. He was very sweet and concurred lest I should be unhappy about it. He was, he said, used to disappointment. He was in a way relieved of responsibility because he could not afford to marry. He was very kind but dismal. He asked me to try to make a friendship. I said it must be on the understanding that I did not love him, that I must pay my expenses and he did not touch me. If he thought he would get any satisfaction or pleasure out of such a relationship I would try it. I didn’t tell him of my newly living love for E, remembering how a man suffers from jealousy.
E rang me up this morning to convey a few ‘notes’. He said he felt completely happy, happier than he had felt since Stow. His love was quite unaltered by what had happened and he was sure of the integrity of our love in spite of it. He quoted, or half quoted, St Paul – ‘Not principalities or powers and things present etc shall cut me off from the love of God.’ We arranged to go to the Friends’ House to hear Catlin on Pacifism. We lunched at Lyons first. It was simply a long ripple of joy from the moment I saw him. I could hardly control my happiness. I felt my whole self quivering through the lecture and the glow of it lasted all day. He looked more solid and sensible but as I looked at him his mouth gave a little twiggle which said, ‘Yes, I know.’
What will happen to us? I don’t know, he doesn’t. I shan’t see him till K is better. But now I am riotously happy, with not even a shadow of precariousness. Now I could say the Te Deum with truth, or the Psalm, ‘I called upon the Lord in my trouble and he heard me.’
THURSDAY 27 JANUARY
A lovely, lovely letter (or rather 2 letters) from E this morning. I have read them about four times and nearly know them by heart. They made me so happy except for one thing – he had a sore throat last night. I tried to ring him over and over again today but couldn’t get through as the line was out of order. So I don’t know how he is today. He may be in bed. Perhaps he is ill and it
will be my fault for worrying him into a low state. I wrote to him today. I must not think of him being ill.
FRIDAY 28 JANUARY
I have tried not to worry today. I rang up Finsbury 2 this morning and learnt that E was away on sick leave. I felt so helpless and cut off. I told myself it was just a cold but whatever it is I feel responsible. I hope – I do hope – he will be better tomorrow.
A letter from B this morning, quite nice and sensible. It made me feel a pig.
WEDNESDAY 2 FEBRUARY
2 letters from E this morning. He has tonsillitis and has been very ill. I was appalled when, at 11.30, he rang me up from a call box. He sounded very bad and feeble. I have worried all day lest he has had a relapse. I was so thankful to hear from him – all in pencil, almost illegible, but I made it out. Nice letters.
SUNDAY 6 FEBRUARY
There is a lot to put down since Wed but I must only make a quick note. On Friday B came to see me and afterwards I had tea with him. It was rather a bad time. He looked ill tho’ he was very nice to me. I felt awful about him. He was so hurt and vulnerable. He put his case on grounds of reason, whose force I admitted, but I was not in the slightest degree moved by them. What did affect me was the childish, naïve efforts he made to please me. He would go to lectures with me even if he couldn’t hear! He would read the books I liked even if he disliked them. Dismal.
Yesterday was a queer day. First a letter from E. He rang up to fix a meeting at Clapham Junction at 3.0 – sounded ill. When I went to meet him I was so moved that I couldn’t read as I waited for him. He looked ill and was very feeble. It was so sweet to see and hear him. He put his hand on my heart as we stood in the sunshine on the bridge over the lines. Just half an hour.
TUESDAY 8 FEBRUARY
A lovely, lovely day to begin this new book. First, a letter from E, a very nice letter with such lovely things in it. On the back page a half suggestion that I should meet him at Petersham this afternoon. I had an appointment at 11.0 with Porter about Lady Langford. In the middle he rang up and we arranged to meet. Porter was maddening, talking on and on about nothing. Finally he went at 12.0. I did 15 claims, signed letters, dashed in to DJ 3 times and found him with a caller. Finally wrote him a note and dashed off to lunch and to go to the 1.20 lecture by Dr Gray on Ends and Means. Got to Waterloo and caught 2.21 to Richmond. Had to wait for the bus but got to the Disart Arms about 3.0.
We walked I suppose quite a long way through the Park which was all big trees and ponies and green slopes. I did not look at it much but spent the hour and a half we had in seeing and hearing and feeling E. It was bliss, just utter bliss, a dream of delight. The joy of feeling his arms around me, his hands on me, his cheek on mine. We were libidinous, to repeat his word. It was gorgeous but too short and incomplete. I felt giddy with happiness and he liked it too.
FRIDAY 11 FEBRUARY
A lovely week this is, on the whole. We have lunched together and wanted to love so much on Wed, Thursday and today. We are both so longing to love completely again. It is lovelier than in 1934 because I know how I shall love it now. He is better but still not quite well. He really needs feeding up and 9 weeks away. I can think of little else. When I am not with him I write to him.
Dinner with B last night. He is reasonable.
SUNDAY 13 FEBRUARY
It is bitterly cold and I am sleepy. Nevertheless I must note this lovely weekend. A north easterly gale has been blowing all the time and today we have had heavy snow showers with sunshine in between.
When I lunched with E on Friday we arranged to meet for just an hour this morning. I wrote him a letter on Friday. Yesterday he rang up (he was having the day off) and said he could meet me at Clapham Junction on the way home. I caught the 12.11 and he came at 12.55. We just walked and talked for three quarters of an hour. He said, ‘I agree, we need an orgy, but could it be without prejudice?’ He had found he could go for a walk this afternoon. It was marvellous. We walked over Wandsworth Common in the gale. An elm had lost a huge branch and it was lying in the road. The gulls were screaming and could not make headway against the wind. My little brown hat blew off twice. It seemed a different world from 3 weeks ago when we walked there on Sunday morning.
This afternoon is really beyond words, at any rate beyond this stuttering prose. Four hours we had. We met at the Disart Arms again at 2.45 and walked a little in sunshine in Petersham Park. We just talked about ourselves and I remember we saw a blackbird and a little horse with a fluffy brown coat and E took off his hat and I ruffled his hair again after so long – so long.
After tea we walked back to Richmond Park over a high windy place with few trees. There were deer, mostly does but one fine stag holding its head high. We walked far, I don’t know where. The sun shone and brilliant grey and white and silver clouds piled up and swept over the sky. A stormy yellow El Greco sunset and at last it was dusk. By a plantation with a tall pine and partridges whirring he kissed me again. I was quite overcome – like a hailstorm I remembered his kisses, their roughness and tenderness and fragrance and sweetness. We found a big tree. It was nearly dark and began to snow – a queer whistly rustle as the hard flakes fell on the dead bracken. He held me; I could just see his face. His hands on my breast were comforting and warm.
What can one say except that it was perfect? One of the best times we have had – every brick wall between us dissolved inexplicably – dissolved by pain and sorrow. This is the rose at the heart of the thorn bush, the beauty in the midst of the fire, that after such unhappiness we should have climbed to greater heights. For whatever should happen – life or death, sorrow or happiness, good or evil, I feel safe in his love. The precariousness has disappeared. Our love is secure.
Shakespeare and the Bible are the only adequate words for this day.
WEDNESDAY 16 FEBRUARY
We lunched together yesterday and today and talked about where to go in Dorset and how lovely an orgy we would have. It is lovely to be with him and watch and know he wants me and loves me. I would not have believed I could have experienced such happiness. I have not felt so secure before – the feverishness and precariousness and uncertainty and fear and lack of confidence which I felt before, except when they were submerged in ecstasy, have disappeared. It isn’t that I don’t realize that K may fail to give him any freedom – that I don’t know, and it may have to finish. It is that I have regained and somehow created a stronger faith in our love, that in spite of everything it will endure and triumph. I don’t know why this should be so except perhaps that he is telling me the whole of what he feels, good or bad, happy or unhappy. Perhaps it is that I have ‘reasoned with the worst that may befall’ and feel I could endure. Anyway, I have (now) a new security which makes our happiness all the sweeter. But –
‘The slow days pass with heavy feet
I count the hours until we meet
Until my skin beneath your hand
Quivers with ecstasy …’
Austria has surrendered to Hitler’s demands. It seems that the alternative was war so perhaps she was wise to choose the inevitable and avoid the evil prelude. But things look pretty hopeless.
WEDNESDAY 2 MARCH
Well, the orgy is over and what an orgy. I must try to do an account before the details fade. For me it was the best yet. It makes me glow to think of it.
FRIDAY 4 MARCH
I am tired. I love him so much, but for the time I am satisfied physically. He said he thought he would be ‘clamant’ again in a fortnight and yesterday, ‘You have no idea how seductive you are,’ but just now we are happy being together and talking. It is so sweet. He had said when you are utterly satisfied the physical recedes and leaves your love the only conscious feeling. His lust and love have become more integrated than before. I think this is so for me too. I suppress less and realize the lust side more clearly, but this does not make my love less. It seems to increase it, oddly enough.
SATURDAY 5 MARCH
I met E for coffee at Waterloo. He said K was
getting better very slowly. Her heart is still weak and the Dr talks about a sea voyage. She told him her illness was due to worry and he thinks it is the effect of telling her about us. I think it may be suspense, I couldn’t bear it. But she is too weak to discuss it now. I have a suspicion that the cause of her slow progress is psychological, if unconscious. An unconscious appeal to his pity – an alternative plan, since she knows the offer to have a child has failed. I haven’t told him this. But the Dr can’t understand her condition. This is just what one would expect. I should like Dr Malleson to see her (after being told the relevant facts).