by Doreen Bates
SUNDAY 2 JUNE
WG rang me up yesterday and I see him tomorrow morning about my appeal. He said McCreath had seen Loach about me. WG wants to tell me what to say.
Had coffee with E yesterday. I feel no sign whatever yet – I hope I shall.
MONDAY 3 JUNE
A good day to begin a new book. Perfect summer weather, sunny with a cool breeze. I wore my new cerise spotted frock which fits me well and is an attractive shape. On the way to the city I called at St George’s to see WG who gave me advice in my appeal. He told me to call on McCreath but before I did I saw SKC who liked my frock and kissed me. McC told me he had mentioned me to Loach who was interested. I should get a personal hearing. I must be careful not to be feminist as the Promotions Board was sure it wasn’t prejudiced, even subconsciously! WG said the AIT was disturbed about the failure to promote any women and there were three ‘runners’ – me, Reen and Le Huquet, but McC backed me. I wondered why, since he couldn’t know anything of my work but I inferred it was because I more or less agreed with him on the marriage bar question! He told me he had been impressed ‘by my common sense’. So there it is. It seems that I shall have to screw myself up to the ordeal. I met R at the library and bought a new hat for the hearing at 27/11d – appallingly extravagant, but cheap if it gives me confidence.
WG said he had never seen me looking better. Is this a hopeful sign? I don’t feel anything, though I am tired. Bombs on Paris today – and on Ashdown Forest near Forest Row, and Italy is almost in against us.
THURSDAY 13 JUNE
E was still dismal – ‘not a ray of hope anywhere’, he said. He is so determined not to be optimistic, so resolutely hopeless, that I asked him why he did not drown himself, and he smiled and admitted a 1,000 to 1 chance!
SUNDAY 16 JUNE
Paris has fallen to the Germans. The French did not defend it at the last but withdrew south. It seems unbelievable – Paris to be not French – the Arc de Triomphe – Champs Elysées –Louvre – Place de la Concorde – above all, Notre Dame. The army has apparently been marvellous but it is outnumbered in men and guns and aeroplanes and tanks. With Havre gone and the railway from Cherbourg cut it is difficult to keep in touch. It looks as if Hitler will very soon be free to turn against England. At coffee yesterday I think I pumped some heart into E but last night I felt very emptied of courage myself.
Yesterday morning I went to St George’s to see WG. He told me what to say on Tuesday and gave oceans of good advice. He was really very sweet.
TUESDAY 18 JUNE
France has asked Hitler for terms – what they will be Heaven knows. Britain is to continue alone. Well, there seems little to do but prepare to die or suffer. E went to church on Sunday with K. It is surprising. Her suggestion, of course.
To Mannheim’s last lecture this evening in a golden blaze of sunshine. It was on the forces making for social change – detached, scientific, to a point almost of frigidity in a German-Jewish refugee. At the end he was moving – ‘we are living in a dynamic time – I have not told you a single positive way to cope with things. I have merely given a method. Look at the facts and use your reason and judgement. If things move too quickly there will be upheaval and uncontrolled change, but even so ultimately reason will emerge in men’s minds and they will learn and use their judgement again.’ From a man with his experience such faith is exhilarating now.
The threat of invasion – death, pain – sharpens one’s senses. Every blackbird running across the road, the call even of a cuckoo, the moonlight, the sunset – golden, then ruddy, then purple – the thick leaved trees, the scent of roses and honeysuckle and pinks, all have the poignancy of a farewell for ever. I cannot enjoy this marvellous summer but I have never felt and realized the beauty of the earth so much. E hates it because it accords so ill with his mood of hopelessness but I cannot help loving it. It is a pledge that life goes on – beauty, flowers whatever men do.
WEDNESDAY 19 JUNE
No definite news of the terms for France, but ominous rumours. There was a statement that the French fleet has left French ports.
My appeal is fixed for Friday at 4.00. I wore my new hat today – I have worn it once anyway. Worked hard, mostly on EPT. Getting straighter.
FRIDAY 21 JUNE
No good this time.* E will have to try again – and only yesterday I said I was still hopeful. I think it was spoiled by the screwing up for this appeal.
WG rang me up this morning and gave me a final blessing. I had a lunch at Hills with E – grilled halibut and meringue. He said he had enjoyed it more than any meal for weeks – had eaten it with appetite. John wished me luck, so did Brennan. I timed it for 4.00 exactly but took some time negotiating tangles of barbed wire to find Room 33 so that the messenger was waiting for me and just put me in a waiting room and it was perhaps 4.05 when I took a deep breath and walked in.
As I expected I faced the window, Diggines immediately opposite and nearer me, obscure, hefty and brutish. On his right Cater, who helped me as much as possible. He made faces and twinkled – I was prejudiced in his favour by John and other people. On his right I guess Bradford, rather bluff looking with bushy moustache. I didn’t object to him. On Diggines’ left Ritson, colourless, who said little – and on his left Loach, who I guessed was anti. I took off one glove in dead silence and D muttered something which I took to be an instruction to make my ‘speech’. So I began, still taking off the other. Several murmurs of denial at my wonder whether I had sounded feminist. I didn’t get stuck and I didn’t forget or leave anything out. I don’t think I went too fast or fidgeted or was not clear. But my hands trembled a little and my voice sounded queer to me; my mouth got very dry, so did my lips. At the end I began to pick up and I lost my nervousness completely. When they came to questions D first: ‘Mr J didn’t agree with you on staff questions.’ I said, ‘Often not, though we did not argue – we knew our attitudes were fundamentally different.’ He referred to a suggestion that City 10 wasn’t good experience for staff management – ‘perhaps a move?’ I agreed but said I had started the 3 months’ supervision and was not discontented in City 10. ‘What kind of accounts?’ I told him, ‘Rubber, tea, shipping, merchants and importers of agricultural produce, metals, gum, shellac, seed, all sorts – a few property companies, some EPT.’ ‘Did I work the EPT on my accounts? Any trouble?’ I said, ‘No, I found they took a long time but were interesting.’ Cater’s turn next: ‘Are you one of our examination entrants?’ ‘Year?’ ‘I wonder if I was on the viva board your year?’ I remembered Miss Fry – so did he; ‘Where are you from?’ I guessed he meant what university, but I made him ask plainly. I told him, adding – ‘It is a long time ago.’ He said, ‘You are standing up to it well.’ I said, ‘If I took off my hat you would see my grey hairs.’ Everyone laughed. Bradford on the difference between authoritarian and democratic: – ‘If you gave a clerk an order would you expect him to obey?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Would that be authoritarian?’ I said it depended how it was done. I should ask his views – adapt or adopt them and explain why not. ‘Wouldn’t this take a long time?’ I said, ‘It would depend on the clerk and on me but normally I thought it was not wasted.’ Cater again – ‘It would have educative value?’ Loach asked whether I had taken any disciplinary action at St George’s. I said I had had small difficulties. Finally D: ‘Would you feel confident and have no fear in taking over a District?’
There was something pleasantly English about it. Fairly informal – they were drinking tea, lounging in chairs; a lovely room and a dignified building with double doors and big staircases and portraits on the walls; and outside the river. These were 5 highly-paid men spending their time now, when England is assailed more fiercely than ever before, listening to me, an unimportant nobody, but with the rights which every individual has to be heard. The irony, the absurdity and yet the nobility struck me at the time and even more in retrospect. I can’t estimate my chances at all – D and L were definitely anti; Cater was sympathetic; B and R doubtfu
l. I think I shall get a move soon and I am possibly not regarded as hopeless for ever.
SUNDAY 23 JUNE
France has agreed to Hitler’s terms, which include occupation of the western coast and north of a line from Tours to Geneva, surrender of all stores, munitions, tanks, planes, ships. Perhaps there will be civil war – the overseas have declared for Britain – De Gaulle has broadcast from London calling on all who love freedom to join him. If the French government preserves its control (Laval as vice-premier, naturally) France in effect joins Germany against us.
WEDNESDAY 26 JUNE
This morning a letter from the Board of Inland Revenue – ‘have been pleased to appoint you to act as Inspector (Higher Grade ) – at £590 – £25 – £700 from 1st July 1940’. I have been rather light-headed in consequence and have eaten and drunk too much. I rang up E and R and M and WG – saw many of my colleagues. Had lunch at Hills, cake for tea in the office, tea with Elsie afterwards; home at 7.30, strawberries and cream and sherry after the news. What a day! It seems incredible – like a good joke. John says he expected it and saw Cox last week on that assumption.
If only the war would end soon in our favour. E heard yesterday that the French fleet was in English waters – Elsie had also heard this. We had an air raid alarm on Monday night – 1.00 am till 3.50. Everyone seems to expect Blitzkrieg soon but everyone seems in better spirits. It is probably partly the confidence inspired by Churchill, partly a sense that with the defection of the French government we have touched bottom.
THURSDAY 27 JUNE
We had half a day’s leave today rather against E’s conscience, and went to Ashtead. It was sunny with a strong breeze. After a cup of tea we walked up the old path and had a picnic lunch of rolls and cheese, strawberry tarts and cherries at the same spot as we picnicked four weeks ago today. Then we went up a path till we saw a dingle of beeches. It was strange that E was more quickly ready than last time, but he had harder work to come to the point. I hope it has worked but feel doubtful. Perhaps he may try again at the end of next week. I feel less hopeful about today, but one can’t tell.
FRIDAY 28 JUNE
Brennan and Miss Rochford rang up today. I went to St George’s to pay for the cake they had. WG hadn’t gone so I talked to him for 10 minutes. He said, ‘I’m going to do a thing I’ve never done before – kiss an Inspector (Higher Grade)’ – then we went to see SKC and met him going home and he told him what he’d done – so SKC did likewise – on the stairs! WG said McCreath had insisted on my promotion! I have been lucky about this, both in the time and in the people who have helped.
WEDNESDAY 3 JULY
I had a letter from Hunter this morning. It was nice of him. He referred to me as a fledgling at Croydon 2. E liked this and said it just described me – even at Paddington.
SUNDAY 7 JULY
We keep expecting air raids but it is still another Sunday and I am sitting peacefully in the garden. The main news of the week was the Navy’s success in preventing the Germans and Italians from taking the French fleet. M and I went to a lecture on Thursday on how to cope with incendiary bombs. It was quite effective and after dark we went out to get a bucket of sand, which we keep with a spade in the cupboard under the stairs.
Yesterday was a strange day. R went up to town in the morning and bought a fur cape, met M for lunch and went with her to the Academy in the afternoon. E couldn’t arrange to be free in the afternoon so we had to take the morning off. I met him at Purley at 9.45. We intended to go for a walk over Riddlesdown till R had gone. It rained so heavily however that we got no further than the near wood. It was queer to see him walking there, where we so often walk. We listened to the rain sitting under a beech till nearly 11.00 when I went home for an umbrella and to be sure the house was empty. It was – so we came home. I made him coffee and then we went up to our room to fuck. It is right to use the word this time for it was sweet again. He liked it and I liked it. It was lovely to feel him again, and the only drawback was that it was too short – too swiftly he said – ‘It’s coming already’ – I do so hope and hope that it will be a baby this time – conceived with pleasure and joy in my own bed, at home. It was strange to see him in the house. We just pottered until 1.00. We both caught the 1.14 – he to Clapham, I to Victoria. I had lunch and went to the Old Vic to the last day of The Tempest. I was 5 minutes late and the man at the Gallery door said, ‘You’ve just missed the storm.’
It was an interesting production. Gielgud emphasized the development of Prospero; his gradually growing tolerance and generosity till the final forgiveness of the bad people and the forswearing of magic. Peggy Ashcroft was an ideal Miranda, Lewis Casson’s Gonzalez was the best I remember – a slighter Polonius. The theatre was full. Somehow the beauty of the play just suited my mood: storm and calm, disturbance and peace, height and depth. May the harvest be rich and as sweet to our hearts as the sowing.
SUNDAY 14 JULY
Another summer Sunday afternoon in the garden, another week in which we have been undisturbed. E told me that material will soon not be available to make private AR shelters so we have asked an engineer architect to come tomorrow evening to advise. So the first property I own looks like being a shelter.
FRIDAY 19 JULY
No good – no good! I feared it – perhaps that was why the seed was wasted – ran away – dried up – died. E said, ‘I could see from your expression as you crossed the road.’ And later, ‘I shouldn’t mind if my son was an admiral of the fleet!’
I have made an appointment to see Dr Malleson on Tuesday to ask her if there is anything I can do about it. Douches or mechanical help such as resting or not smoking or diet.
WEDNESDAY 24 JULY
We had half a day’s leave and came home for 2 hours together. Just a half hour of uninterrupted fuck which was sweet – may it be fruitful this time – and tea. He looked at the garage and gave his views on converting it to an air raid shelter, looked at the garden and the Picture Posts and books and drank tea. M was on holiday and had gone to town with R. I told her what we planned and she managed to keep R in town in the rain till the 5.20 and then phoned to say what train they were catching. We were lucky as it would have been too wet to love out of doors.
Yesterday I went to see Dr Malleson and ask whether there was anything I could do to help. She said it was simply a question of timing and patience; there is only one egg each month and it lives only two days, which may be 6, 8 or 10 days before the beginning of the period. Very sympathetic. She examined me and said I was quite good – no need to worry about my age. I hope it will come off and that I shall be able to go to her to have it.
MONDAY 29 JULY
A lovely sunny fresh day. We both came at the same moment at 12.30 and E said we had better go to Hills and have a big lunch, so we did – grilled halibut and chips, golden roll and coffee. Nothing else he said, except as we parted – ‘I shall catch the 5.37 to Ashtead.’ He emerged at the station from my train which he had changed into at Epsom. We had just under two hours. He said we would go the other way, across Ashtead Common. At last we found a comparatively clear place and he cut away the brambles. I was afraid he had not completely penetrated but he tried again and it was all right. He said it was not hard work – it made a difference if I were worked up – muscular reaction – reflexes probably! We both got bitten by mosquitoes but waited 20 minutes smoking a cigarette which kept them off. I lay down and turned over as Dr Malleson had told me – and lay flat in the train except between Waddon and West Croydon when some workmen going home shared my carriage. I got home at 8.30. We have done our best and perhaps it will happen this time.
TUESDAY 6 AUGUST
The man (or rather a man and a boy) came to make the air raid shelter yesterday, they have built the east and north wall and the partition to about 5 feet and taken the window out already. R is beginning to feel a sense of security which is ample compensation for the cost.
SUNDAY 1 SEPTEMBER
A marvellous sunny Sunda
y again and once more I resume this in the garden, though hardly in peace; merely in a comparatively quiet interval between air raids.
Just a quick note of the gap between 6th August and 1st September. From 10th–17th August M and R and I were at Porlock Weir on holiday. On the 17th we returned to Purley and on the Sunday morning following I went to Ivinghoe to spend a week there with Ella. On that Sunday about 1.00 Purley had its worst raid yet. I came home a week yesterday. All last week we had air raids near or distant, long or short – usually long at night, short in the day. We spent some hours each night in the shelter on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights.
On Friday night I stayed in town with Elsie and went to a concert by the LPO conducted by Boult given by invitation of the LCC. In the interval there was a speech by the Chairman of the LCC and by Priestley boosting the LPO. Just as Priestley began at 9.10 the siren went; he just carried on – I saw no one go to the shelter. The concert was lovely. I have rarely been more moved; it was the novelty – I haven’t been to a full length concert this year. It was also the sureness and certainty of the music, like a message of confidence in the clash of noise and fear and nerves and confusion; the upsetting of habit and routine and ordinary business which made up most of last week – a message that it would pass, that evil and fear and pain were transitory while beauty and goodness and truth were eternal and would survive all the folly of men; that beauty was above nationalism, the beauty expressed by Bach and Brahms and Mozart and recreated by the instruments of men in mortal combat with their countrymen. An oasis of beauty in a hideous week. I could almost feel my jangled nerves relaxing beneath the music.