Diary of a Wartime Affair

by Doreen Bates

  MONDAY 7 MARCH

  A red-letter day. E got his promotion at last. MacIntyre told me at 12.0. We rang up Finsbury to congratulate him and found him not there. I kept the appointment hour ever wondering what had happened to him. While Dixon was talking to Harman he rang up – had a cold and a sore throat and had stayed in bed. Bruce had told him the news. E said he felt quite calm about it. I am so glad. It is official and public recognition of what I knew always, but it is satisfactory. And there is the material improvement for him. Has his and my luck begun to turn at last? If only K would rise to the occasion. I wonder if she really loves him for himself. I wish I hadn’t to cope with B tomorrow. But this is good news.

  TUESDAY 8 MARCH

  Lunch with E. It was nice. He brought me his letter of promotion. So sweet. Bruce said, ‘I’d like to see Goldstein’s face on Sat morning when he sees it.’ He was pleased but quite unexcited as I expected. He offered to give me the Oxford Dictionary (as he intended ages ago if he got it) but I said ‘No’. If he wanted to give me something I’d like Jude. Jude has a significance for us, the first book we read together.

  Interview with B at 3.30. We kept almost entirely to the case till 4.45. Dinner afterwards. He wants to be just friendly – like a brother – quite accepts my attitude and agrees that I may not ‘get over’ E. I feel mean about him.

  WEDNESDAY 23 MARCH

  Lunched with E and gave him my Budget Statement for 1937 and account of the 15 months to 31/3/38 which I virtually finished this morning. After lunch he went to a bookshop and bought Jude for me to celebrate his promotion. That is lovely. There is nothing I shall like more from him. It is good in itself and a book to want. Also, I should hate anyone else to give it to me. And last Sept or on any other occasion it would have been too heart-breaking. But now, when it is in a sense, inappropriate (because the parallel is triumphantly broken), it is just perfect. He also said he would give me 2 volumes of a marvellous book on British birds, but this is too much. When I protested he said, ‘You must learn to accept as well as to give,’ but he mustn’t give me so much. Jude is complete in itself and makes me utterly happy. He wrote a note to Margot to thank her for her congratulations – a nice little note which she liked. I wanted very much to tell her about us but there was no opportunity.

  SUNDAY 17 APRIL

  Wyndham is home with acute rheumatism in his back. It is very painful to move and he was reduced to staying in bed all the time.

  THURSDAY 21 APRIL

  We had half arranged to walk today but this morning I had a note from E saying his throat had been bad and delayed his return from Sheffield till today. We had tea from 4.55 to 6.05. It was nice.

  Nevertheless, I felt a bit depressed this evening. I do so want a baby. I am so tired of waiting for K to get well enough even to be talked to – it seems endless. It is more than 5 months since she was last talked to. And I shall be 32 on Monday. I try to be patient and our love makes me happy but I can’t afford, and the baby can’t afford, this endless delay.

  TUESDAY 26 APRIL

  It has hardly been like our birthdays with Wyndham hardly able to move. He is said to be better but it seems even more painful for him to move. Rosa is tired and edgy, tho’ she is really marvellous.

  I am worried about E’s tonsils. They were bad from Friday onwards and yesterday he was too feeble to come to Chancery Lane for lunch. I went to Liverpool Street and we lunched at Hills for my birthday. Today he was a little better but he sees a surgeon tomorrow to talk about having them out. K is to see a heart specialist this week. Her own doctor can hardly detect her heartbeat. I don’t know what to think about her. My own desires – appetites as Plato would say – lure my mind into daydreams which conflict with the way I try to look at her. I can feel this ambivalence – conflict almost – an element in E’s malaise. It is even probably a strand in her own weak health. Meanwhile I must try to be patient and to keep my mind and body whole and worthy for the child I want to give him.

  B sent me some red roses and a box of strawberries for my birthday, no note. They were delivered at the office by the boy from the florist’s.

  WEDNESDAY 27 APRIL

  Lunched near the Bank with E. He had seen the surgeon who sounded nice, but he said the tonsils must come out. It will take 3 weeks, one week in hospital and 2 to convalesce. It is horrid but if he will be better afterwards perhaps it is worth it. I hope he will go soon if he decides to go.

  Wyndham about the same.

  FRIDAY 29 APRIL

  E took K to the heart specialist who said there was nothing wrong organically – suggested a fortnight in hospital. There is no reason why he shouldn’t have his operation on Sat week. I doubt myself whether any orthodox treatment will do her any good. I think this weakness is her reaction (probably unconscious) to the triangle. I had tea with him at Waterloo and we hope to go for a walk tomorrow. If only it would get warmer – a day like those in Dorset. I want so much to comfort him and fortify him.

  Wyndham is probably better – the rheumatism is shifting about, legs and arms. He moves more easily but is weary and worn out. Rosa is tired and strained and depressed today.

  SUNDAY 8 MAY

  It seems a long time since I saw E. I thought of him on and off all yesterday morning. I couldn’t concentrate on work, hadn’t much to do. I left the office at 12.0, looked at the shops and had lunch. At 1.20 I rang up the hospital. I was pleased with myself for continuing so unconcerned. The girl said, ‘He has had his operation and is quite all right.’ After ringing off I found that I had begun to cry and was feeling very weak about the knees. I couldn’t go and look at pictures as I had intended.

  TUESDAY 17 MAY

  E phoned this morning. He and K are going to Eastbourne on Thursday and the doctor is coming tomorrow so he had to see me today or not at all. I met him at Richmond Station. I am getting very familiar with the route. We had from 3.0–5.0 and spent most of it in Fullers having tea. He told me about the operation. He was looking fairly fit. He is coming back on Whit Monday but K is staying a month. This means I shan’t see him for 3 weeks. I envy her – so much – her opportunity. I ought not to disturb them even by writing. I must try.

  Wyndham in great pain.

  THURSDAY 19 MAY

  I have wasted a whole evening doing a jigsaw puzzle.

  Wyndham’s appointment with the Specialist is for Monday (£5/5/-). He has been edgy and groaned. Rosa has marvellous patience.

  SUNDAY 22 MAY

  The foreign news today suggests that things are very serious – Halifax in London for the weekend, UK ambassador in Berlin called on von Ribbentrop twice yesterday. In such a situation it seems idle to be much concerned with the possibility of having a baby, or what the specialist will say about Wyndham tomorrow, or the beauty of new green beeches. All the time there is the hum or roar of aeroplanes.

  WEDNESDAY 25 MAY

  Perhaps now I can put down something of what has happened this week. Wyndham saw the specialist (Douthwaite) on Monday and is to go to Guy’s Hospital as soon as there is room. The specialist told Rosa (but not Wyndham) that Wyndham has a tumour on the spine and is seriously ill. Electrical treatment can be used to reduce the pain but there is not any hope of a cure. He may live a few months. Rosa has been marvellous and is determined to keep him cheerful. Margot and I saw Dr Warde yesterday. I wanted in particular to ask how it would develop. Apparently, if the diagnosis is correct (Dr W was not entirely convinced of this) he will lose power over his legs and become bed-ridden. Ultimately bronchial difficulty will occur. The pain should not increase considerably. The nursing will be heavy and impossible at home without two nurses. He strongly advised hospital in any case, especially for further observation and treatment. There is just the possibility of something happening or being done to improve matters.

  It is strange, tho’ of the 3 of us I think I find it less incredible than either of the others. Perhaps it is my habit of expecting the worst, my faculty for coping with disaster more easily than w
ith suspense and uncertainty. To me it was almost like the last piece of a jigsaw fitting in. It is of course hardest for Rosa. My job is the business side. This evening I have been talking business with him. I find it less difficult than Margot to keep up the pretence of cheerfulness and to assume that he will be in hospital only for a short time.

  An interminable time since last week.

  MONDAY 30 MAY

  Just the facts: on Thursday Wyndham went to Guy’s, on Friday he was X-rayed and we saw him 6.0–7.0. Yesterday we saw him 2.0–4.0. He was worse, depressed, mainly as he had a disturbed night. Today a more cheerful letter but Sister told Margot and me that he would have deep X-rays today and it might try him. I slept only intermittently last night. I feel obsessed by the thought of him in pain. When there is nothing urgent to think about my thought flows back to it.

  This evening I weeded bindweed for three quarters of an hour. Gardening and music are the two things that never fail to give satisfaction however black the news.

  WEDNESDAY 1 JUNE

  A year ago today I said goodbye to E at Waterloo Junction. But I have hardly thought of that sad occasion, tho’ I have thought continually of him today.

  We went to Wyndham this afternoon (I had my lunchtime from 2.45–4.10). He was much more cheerful, tho’ rather hot. He looked better. He had had a lumbar puncture, which is a hole on the back of his neck through which they inject something that shows up in an X-ray photograph. He is to have deep heat therapy now.

  WEDNESDAY 8 JUNE

  Warmer but close and thundery. I got the breakfast for Rosa and Margot when they came home from church and caught the 8.10. I worked from 9.0 to 2.40 stopping only for a glass of water and a bun and to talk to E on the phone. Then I went to Guy’s to see Wyndham. He seemed cheerful and I suspect they are giving him morphia at night.

  Lunched with E yesterday. K is very little improved. But I spent most of the time telling him about Wyndham. I am having dinner with him tomorrow.

  Dr Warde called on Friday and said the diagnosis had been confirmed by the new X-rays which showed that the disease had developed considerably since the first X-ray had been taken. They can’t do anything at all. He wanted to know if we wished to leave him at Guy’s. We have decided it is the best thing to do – in fact, the only thing.

  SUNDAY 19 JUNE

  A full, tiring week. First, Wyndham: on Monday we had a scare – we almost expected him to die quickly but on Wed he seemed slightly better, tho’ tired, and on Friday a better report. On Sat a letter from Uncle Percy* who had seen the Sister. She said they hoped to arrest the growth. We were immensely cheered by this because it is the first glimmer of possibility from the medical side that we would not just go steadily downhill. Today he seemed better. He has no appetite, tho’, and he is still having morphia.

  E and I have had a good week, tho’ I didn’t see him on Wed or Thurs. We had a short, rather disturbed dinner on Monday before I hurried home. Yesterday we had a lovely time. It was a fine morning and I wore my Tyrolese frock which opens down the front. We caught the 12.27 to Bayford (which is where we returned from our last walk in May of last year). We soon found a footpath which led into a field of buttercups with trees heavy with leaf standing around. We lounged by its gate (through which was a bean field) for an hour playing and loving and bickering. Finally we walked on to look for a hidden place to fuck. We found a wood but it had mosquitoes and we went on. He left his penknife and I insisted on going back for it. We continued on the path to a field in which was a splendid piebald stallion. It was a beautiful thing, its brown and fawn markings on pure white were like a contour map. But it was very frisky and came dashing after us so that I was afraid.

  We got nearly to Hoddesdon and went to the Green Man for tea. Finally we didn’t have it at the inn but at a cottage by chance, but it was an excellent tea provided by a very fat woman with a red face who wore a hat. We walked two miles along a green road, once part of Ermine Street. It was bordered with hedges with tall buttercups and honeysuckle and wild roses. We tried to finish our fuck in a crevice under an oak but we were interrupted so we didn’t finish properly. Still, it didn’t matter – we had a sweet afternoon. There was as much gaiety, fire and spontaneity in our loving as I have ever felt. I am so proud that my body can give him pleasure in addition to the sparks our minds can strike together. I suppose Hip is right when she says we have a glamour in our stolen meetings which would fade if we lived together. Anyway, to me it is as sweet as four years ago.

  The old Roman road, Hoddesdon

  SUNDAY 3 JULY

  It is a fortnight since I noted anything and much has happened since.

  Wyndham seems better than he was a month ago, more awake mentally (last night he was restless because they gave him no morphia at all). He comes out of Guy’s this week till the end of August when he is to have another course of ray therapy. We have to find somewhere to take him for the interval.

  K came home from Eastbourne last Sunday better, but still feeble. Since then she has gone back. We are rather concerned about her. If after all the care she has had in the last 6 months she is no better it seems hopeless. She weighs only 7 stone 9lbs (as against 8/11) and has lost weight since she came back. We have only lunched together this week. It is so wearisome. I ache to start a child. It must be this month or not for 12 months. I suppose another year won’t make any difference but I don’t see how the desire can continue unfulfilled for so long without either abating or doing harm.

  SUNDAY 10 JULY

  On Wed Wyndham left Guy’s and went to Hillside Nursing Home in Purley. He seems definitely better. He is sleeping well and eating more with better appetite. The pain in his back is gone and the chest restriction much less. He had more, tho’ still very slight, feeling in his legs. He likes to be in Purley and it is very convenient for us to see him.

  I have been rather dismal about E and me. This weekend I ought to have started a baby if at all, and what is he doing? He had a day’s leave yesterday to make a lily pond in his garden and has probably continued gardening today. Meanwhile K is no better, in fact she is worse. Her mother gets more and more trying and K can stand the strain less and less. She is much worse than when she returned from Eastbourne.

  MONDAY 1 AUGUST

  On Sat afternoon after lunching with E I went to Croydon library and then to see Wyndham. I was much more cheerful having argued with myself that my gloom was simply due to expecting too much. I told me firmly: If you don’t expect anything you can’t be disappointed. Hope unfounded leads to despair. So I was quite resigned to a weekend with nothing interesting. After breakfast yesterday morning the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it. I didn’t in the least expect E. He said, ‘I’ve been thinking we might do a midnight walk tonight’ – just the appointment – Charing Cross 11.15. I had some difficulty with Rosa and Aunty Paul* who thought me mad and were nervous. I tried to have a restful day. It was very hot – a humid, heavy heat. Spent most of the day in the garden doing little and tried to sleep for an hour after supper but I was too excited.

  At Charing Cross E was waiting. I was relieved to see him. We tube-ed to Euston and walked to St Pancras from there. It was oppressively hot at midnight. We caught the 12.05 Manchester train to St Albans. It was fairly full of people going north, trying to sleep and keep cool. We were glad to get out and find the air at St Albans fresher. We walked a long way through the town. The yellow sodium lights made it brilliant and I was entertained by their effect on colours. My red jersey looked mustard – also by the contrast with the green and red traffic lights, the white police lights and the bluish lights in the market place. E scolded me into being quiet and we took the road to Dunstable and Watling Street.

  Once past a huge lit-up garage there were no lights except the headlights of passing cars. There was little wind and it was warm. The only birds were owls. The road descended to cross a small river. The hollow was filled with cool white mist which looked like cotton wool. We leaned over the bridge and looked at
the stars reflected in the water. We turned left off the main road to a winding side road leading to Hemel Hempstead. A little way along it was a dry ploughed field. Here, under a larch we rested for perhaps an hour. Perhaps I slept a little. E was warm and I lay close to him with his arm around me. I turned towards him and he kissed me. I felt dissolved to nothing, melted into one by our love and the beauty of the night. I cried and we had a sandwich and walked on. At 3.0 E said he could see the first streaks of dawn. At 3.20 I was able to see the time by my watch. Soon after I looked back and said, ‘It is the day.’ The phrase stirred a memory of Shakespeare which we chased for 10 mins till he tracked it down in the wedding night dialogue of Romeo and Juliet – in great triumph. The grass suddenly grew wet with dew so we rested next on a heap of fine stones by the road. I slept and awoke to find clear daylight and the NE pink. E said with nice outspokenness, ‘Are you ready for a fuck?’ We loved a little and decided the road was not private enough even at 5.15am. So we went further and passed a gypsy caravan. We climbed a gate and began to fuck with resolution. A minute’s exquisite agony and then exquisite pleasure. Two men out shooting and we had to stop and move out of sight of the road. The second attempt we did in the orthodox way and quickly. Sweet and fierce. We walked to Hemel Hempstead from 5.45–7.20, past the old canal. I slept in the train. Breakfast at Tottenham Court Rd Corner House – grapefruit, fish, toast, coffee. Excellent.