Diary of a Wartime Affair

by Doreen Bates

  TUESDAY 11 FEBRUARY

  I met E at Cannon St and we went to tea at Elsie’s to borrow Epstein’s Art and Biography. She went out to dinner at 5.40 and we fucked very quickly for 15 minutes. Sweet! Of course, he would not go on wanting to for long but it is hard to part from him when we are again so much in love.

  Margot and Rosa are now beginning to realize how inevitable the move is. E was very sweet.

  WEDNESDAY 12 FEBRUARY

  Lunched with E and we talked about a baby. I don’t know whether to begin before I go to Belfast or whether to try in 2 or 3 months. The synchronization of time and place will be difficult. ES told me I must do something useful and engrossing when I leave London, which is true. Also, that I am useful and don’t use my brains. Met E and had tea at Victoria.

  FRIDAY 14 FEBRUARY

  Had tea with E and lunched with him at Euston where we had gone to enquire about routes to Ireland. I have to go Stranraer–Larne on 2nd March. In the morning I went to the Northern Ireland office to ask about permits. It is worse than I thought. Rosa can come once in six months, but not Margot and no one else. I am not sure about me. I think I can’t come till September and then not till March. I am more anxious than ever to start a baby now.

  E tells me I should accept Elsie’s offer to give me ordnance maps of NI for Christmas. He says he will want them to follow my walks. I must keep my diary in loose leaf form and send it to him instead of a letter or with a letter. He must be attempting to construct in imagination how we can live together, tho’ separated, putting into practice what Griff said: two who cannot grow separately cannot grow together. It comforts me just a little.

  SUNDAY 16 FEBRUARY

  I met E at Clapham and we went to Ashtead. Not far towards Headley on the old footpath we walked. There was a great deal of mud as army vans and lorries had been up the lane churning it up, but we could walk on the beech leaves. The lamb’s tails made a shower of gold, dazzling against the blue sky, and the sun was hot on our faces. There were larks singing over the field where we picnicked on cherries last summer and saw a hare two or three years ago. But this was just the setting to the ecstasy – yes, ecstasy again – of loving E. It was too wet on the ground to fuck completely but for me it didn’t matter. To be in his arms, to feel his hands and his kisses while over our heads the bare branches made a pattern against the sky – I was utterly happy. I even forgot the sorrow to come. It was a golden day, another jewel in a necklace I thought was complete.

  Today I met ES at Golders Green. Before lunch O’Neill talked to me but during the afternoon ES made love to me. I loved him and was nice to him, but in quite a different mood from yesterday with E. It is extraordinary and I suppose neither would understand how it is possible for me to love or even tolerate 2 different men. It amazes me, but to love ES as I do does not affect my love for E at all. I feel he is a tired, unhappy child who must be cherished and comforted. But E’s love is a magnificent, terrifying thing which leaves me humble and yet proud; like Leda or Alcmene.

  TUESDAY 25 FEBRUARY

  Today has been lovely, lovely, a day to remember with joy. I met E at Clapham Junction. We just caught a train to Leatherhead having a carriage to ourselves all the way. We loved between stations with some intensity so that at Ewell he leaned back quite exhausted and in the middle of an ejaculation! After this we were ready to concentrate on the walk and did not spend any time love-making – anyway, it was too cold to pause. We walked about 16 miles – through Fetcham, skirting Bookham, to Ranmore Common, over the hill and down to Gomshall for lunch at the Compasses and back through Shere to West Horsley. It was loveliest from Bookham to Ranmore Common because we had no maps and the path was new to both of us. A mile or so out of Bookham we were very politely stopped by a soldier who wanted to see our identity cards. The road became a path running up and down into hollows of the Downs, quite unspoilt, showing misty in the distance, or clear between bare branches. I began to get hungry when we turned from Ranmore Rd along the path down to Gomshall, which we reached at 1.0. The Compasses is beautifully placed by the Tillingbourne river and I had heard much about it but never been there.

  The Compasses Inn, Gomshall

  We had a good (but expensive) lunch of bacon, egg, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, pancake, cider and coffee. The road back to Horsley was familiar and as lovely as ever. All the evening I have had an afterglow of happiness in my heart, which not even our parting and my going to Ireland has shadowed. One of the loveliest days we have ever had.

  FRIDAY 7 MARCH

  I could write nothing more till now because this diary had to be censored and had been sitting in a sealed case at Euston till yesterday. On Thursday 27th, in pouring rain I took 2 cases of my own books, snaps, papers and diaries + 2 packing cases of official books, already sealed by the man from Somerset House. I had lunch with my friend Mary who gave me the name of her cousin in Belfast and aunt in Ballymoney.

  Yesterday morning I went to see Dr Malleson and she confirmed that I have started a baby. She thought it was lucky I was going to Ireland and I am glad for Rosa, Margot and K, and for ES. Both E and Margot are glad and I am thrilled, tho’ the job does seem stupendous now. I lunched with Margot and told her and had a long tea with E at Euston. I was good on the whole, especially as the morning sickness period described by Dr M lasts 8 weeks and I haven’t been sick in the morning yet. She said I probably would have by now if I were going to, so it is late enough to be going.

  SATURDAY 8 MARCH

  It was awful to see E on the platform at Euston as we puffed smokily away. I looked at the Standard and out of the window while it was light, till beyond Tring I looked with sentimental feelings for the familiar canal. It is 7 years since E and I first walked its towpath. Soon after Bletchley I had dinner, and finished after Rugby. At Nuneaton the second occupant of my compartment got in. I must have slept quite a lot. It seemed quite a short time before I heard ‘Stranraer Harbour’ and I had to get up. It was still quite dark (5.0 am) but the stars were shining. I found a porter but could understand little of his dialect, but he collected the luggage. I queued up on board for permits and then censoring. A man looked at the hatbox and case, especially my camera (to see if there was any film in it) and handbag (for sealed letters). At last I got safely on board and had some breakfast – a good breakfast except that there was no marmalade. I felt better after that in spite of my cold. When we started at 8.0 I went on deck. It was a lovely morning with a pink & gold sunrise over the hills, tho’ it was very cold. It was a smooth crossing but we waited an hour outside Larne, landing just after 11. It is a pleasant little run down the coast to Belfast. I taxied with my luggage to the hotel. I found it a typical private hotel with the independent elderly ladies always to be found who have nothing better to think about than food and their health. A few officers and nurses who have their meals apart. My room seems very small and full of luggage. Its saving grace is an electric fire so I retire there for solitude since I can only just put up with the other people for meals. The food is quite good and apparently unrestricted except that each person has a separate tin of sugar, distributed on Thursday.

  I went to the office at Moore House in the afternoon and sought out Reville. He had expected me before. He said I should be in Belfast all the time I was on HO relief and told me my district would be Enniskillen subject to Diggines’ signature – probably the easiest district in the UK but isolated. I should be quite on my own. Hardie, his assistant, told me I should probably go in June. Reville is very busy as he is CI and BIR for all NI.* He has a general permit to England but no one else can go more than twice a year.

  Belfast is a hideous place. I go to the office in a rattle-y old tram (for 1d) along a street without one building worth looking at except, perhaps, the new BBC building. The shops are not bad but expensive. It seems strange to see them all with unbroken windows. There are plenty of surface shelters and a few balloons to protect Harland & Wolff’s shipbuilding yards.

  I could not face huntin
g for digs so I buried my gloom in the cinema for 3 hours – 2 American films, neither good, but it was dry and distracting. I can hardly bear to think of E or of home. To unpack Whisky, the little horse, last night made me cry. Bed is the best place.

  SUNDAY 9 MARCH

  On the whole I have got through today better than I expected. I ordered a paper at the office and was mildly surprised to be able to get the Telegraph on weekdays and the Sunday Times, tho’ the ST didn’t arrive till noon. It made me quite at home to be reading it as usual, but more thoroughly. After lunch I wrote to Rosa and Margot and went out to post letters. I found 2 small parks, saw the University and the river Lagan and eventually got by another route to the centre of the town. I found 3 of the addresses where digs were advertised but only one was even possible. After tea I wrote to Elsie and after supper I went to the lounge. The inmates tend to talk to me. They can’t quite make me out. I detect some ill feeling between the elderly lady party and the ‘Services’ party but the most interesting thing was the general dislike of Priestley’s Postscript – general, but much stronger among the military and their wives. They complain that he is boring and ask how his wife can live with him. But he makes them uncomfortable and I suspect this is because he gets under their skins. This war will have achieved some good if it manages to shake up, even a little, the people who live in this hotel.

  TUESDAY 11 MARCH

  Two possibilities for living have emerged: Hardie knows a young woman with 2 little girls, husband in Admiralty, who takes Paying Guests at Holywood, the suburb where he lives. He is taking me there on Thursday. The other is a furnished flat at £2.2/- per week at Sydenham, a slightly nearer suburb. The flat attracts me because of its independence but it would probably be more expensive. Anyway, it will presumably only be until June. Someone at the office said that he had heard that Marjorie had complained that the men weren’t nice to her and hence possibly I was being put away by myself at Enniskillen.

  Had an interview this morning with a nephew on behalf of his widowed aunt. Her husband had 9 children by his first wife and 12 by her, and 18 survive. She has £104 EPT to pay on a pub and wanted to claim HK and for a son of 21 learning motor engineering. The typist at Belfast approves of my dictation and wishes I were there permanently. She told me there was a lot of feeling against England and the war in Belfast – ‘Just as soon live under Hitler’ – but not so openly said as earlier.

  SATURDAY 15 MARCH

  I have had 2 late nights – hence the silence here since Wednesday. On Thursday Mary Roney’s cousin Jack phoned and suggested going to the cinema. He is a nice lad, 6 feet high and handsome. We went to the Ritz. The best thing was the MOI* film Christmas Under Fire. It was the first of its kind I had seen and I thought it good. Some of the photographs were lovely – country churches, hills and fields patrolled by soldiers, evacuee children picking holly, Christmas leave, finally Christmas trees down the tube but you couldn’t see what station it was. The picture of London, even the bombed shops and houses, made me homesick. The main film was Saturday’s Children, an American ‘social document’ – not bad, tho’ rather gloomy – domestic happiness threatened by insecurity and poverty. Jack Roney suggested that the immunity of Belfast from raids (up to now) is due to the Germans’ hope of getting it intact!

  Reville came in to see me while Williams was talking about the Recorder procedure on appeals. On any appeal the taxpayer can claim a re-hearing before the Recorder or the County Court judge. You have to be very respectful and call him ‘Your Honour’. I must try and get to a hearing before I go to Enniskillen.

  I have had one letter only from E. Margot said in a letter I got yesterday that he phoned last Saturday and told her he had a bad throat and would be tied to the house. I can’t help worrying. Had a letter from Dr Malleson on Thursday enclosing one from her patient who gave the name and address of a woman doctor in Dublin and an account of how she had her baby there – quite useful. I shall go and see her before I go to Enniskillen. I still don’t want to smoke or drink coffee – otherwise normal.

  SUNDAY 16 MARCH

  A really lovely day again – sunny, misty and no wind. A frost in the morning but quite hot walking. After breakfast I set out for the wall of hill behind the town which you can see from anywhere. I just walked towards it from the hotel, first through squalid small houses and across a dreary big bog with an engineering factory on it. Hundreds of small children, some of them pretty, most of them dirty and stupid-looking, were playing in the street. I counted 82 in about 3 minutes. I have never seen so many children living in such a small area. I reckon I walked about 6 miles altogether. After lunch I listened to Roosevelt’s speech, recorded, and wrote to E and to Mary Roney. Not too bad for a Sunday!

  TUESDAY 18 MARCH

  Rain this morning but it cleared this afternoon, tho’ it is cold. I couldn’t go to see the flat at Sydenham but I am going tomorrow. The thought of the baby is the one thing that consoles me.

  WEDNESDAY 19 MARCH

  A very satisfactory letter from ES today (one of two) saying John is very cross about my move – now, when Herrick’s lack of experience is showing. I could not help some satisfaction from this. I should like to flatter myself that C10 would go to pieces without me! I bought 8oz of baby wool at lunchtime. This evening I went out to Sydenham to see the furnished flat. It costs 37/6d a week including use of cutlery, linen etc., gas and light. There is a dining room, rather gloomy, a large light bedroom, a room between hall and kitchen and a big kitchen. There is a grand piano in the bedroom. I could manage with 2 rooms, kitchen and bedsitting room, but Mrs McIlroy wants to let the whole flat. It is on the ground floor. I am thinking it over till tomorrow, but I am tempted by the quiet and independence and piano.

  FRIDAY 21 MARCH

  The night before last London had its heaviest raid since the city fire raid at the end of December, the first serious raid since I left. I did not get really worked up until the evening and then the news fixed my mind on the one subject. I could not keep my thoughts off E and the family. I felt simply desperate, so helpless in the complete silence here – infinitely worse than I have felt on any occasion in London – a nightmare feeling. I finished a letter to E but cried and cried. I tried to comfort myself with probability, with the stupidity of worrying whatever had happened. Nothing altered my feeling. If it hadn’t been for the baby I should have tackled Reville this morning in desperation. At last I fell asleep, only to be awakened by the unmistakable sound of a mouse somewhere in the room. The last straw! By being very strong minded I made myself do nothing. In the morning I found it had been in 2 of the 3 drawers of the dressing table and I heard it before I got up. Horrid! I told the office that something must be done and I think they have looked in the top drawer, but I doubt whether anyone has finally coped with it.

  I am glad I am moving to the flat on Tuesday. Mrs McIlroy phoned and said she would collect me and my luggage at 5.0 and ask the milkman and the baker to leave their goods. I hope it will work, but I am sure I shall prefer it to living in a hotel. I made a budget and I don’t think it will be so expensive as living here.

  We have reduced the new accounts to nil and I begin to get a little post. Have got one of the books Dr Malleson recommended, but the other is still not in. The delays are awful. I heard that in normal times now (i.e. with no serious raids anywhere) it often takes 10 hours to get a phone call through to London.

  SATURDAY 22 MARCH

  A vile day – cold, and it has not ceased raining all day. After going to the office this morning I came back to lunch and didn’t go out again at all. I began a vest for the baby, did my MO diary and continued Margot’s blouse. Reville came to see me this morning. I am to stay at Belfast 1 for another 3 weeks, that is, till 19 April. The more I think of it the more scandalous it seems to send me to Enniskillen, an easy district where I shall forget all the EPT I ever knew and have to learn about farms. Any oldish HG man could do it – a man who is getting decrepit and hasn’t the mental energy and
the will to tackle EPT. They should keep me in a heavy EPT district doing my bit hard. They don’t know I am trying to do 2 jobs – taxes and a baby.

  THURSDAY 27 MARCH

  I moved to the flat on Tuesday evening. Mrs McIlroy called for me about 5.45 in her car and took me from door to door. At first I seemed all thumbs, couldn’t remember where things were kept. The blackout took me ages and I overslept on Wednesday morning till 9.0. But I am getting used to it. It is lovely to cook what I like when I like and to have my own books and pictures and the little horse and E’s photograph which all make it more my own. The geyser isn’t fixed yet – won’t be till Monday – and the water doesn’t get hot enough for a bath. The blinds in my bedroom are a nuisance and have to be folded up, but these things will right themselves and are small. Mr Bennett upstairs is in the navy & Mrs B is a hearty north country woman from Darlington. They are friendly and I went up to hear the 9.0 news last night and was shown photographs of her family.

  I have had bouts of depression, usually in the office when I haven’t had enough to do. This morning I wrote to E, not having heard from him since Monday morning, and felt dismal. But I went to lunch and got my ration book dealt with and then joined the Times book club and got out a book at once – Herbert Read’s Annals of Innocence & Experience. I felt much better after this – almost resurrected. When I got back Miss Harrison said there was good news from Yugoslavia. After the government had given in to Hitler there was a revolution early this morning. So I felt still better, had a small snack lunch today and was quite ravenous for my dinner.