by Jake Arnott
To Hackney Dog Track with Harry. Rather jolly. Must confess that I enjoy slumming it just as much as Mr Starks relishes a taste for high society. Exciting to be amongst hard men & tough little boys.
Harry suggested that he start paying me a monthly fee. ‘As a business consultant’, he explained. Occasionally I’d be asked favours. An introduction or merely my presence at a meeting or a business lunch. I agreed. He also gave the OK for Craig to move in.
A lucky night. I came away with £30 winnings.
Monday, 30 November
The Albany Trust are lobbying me for my support in advocating homosexual law reform. Said that I agreed with them in principle but I have to be careful in involving myself in anything that might cause people to draw any unfortunate conclusions.
Repairs have started on Hartwell Lodge.
Thursday, 3 December
Craig has moved in. Meagre possessions, poor boy. Just two battered suitcases in the spare room. Embarrassing moment when, seeing him looking with interest at my bookshelf, I started to talk about various volumes & he meekly confessed his illiteracy. Promised to help him to learn to read. He appears as interested in matters of taste & breeding. He is always trying to glean bits of knowledge of etiquette or culture. Has a particular curiosity in the curios and objets d’art in the flat & seems to have a passing knowledge of antiques.
Monday, 7 December
Lunch with Harry at the Lords. He loves all the pomp & circumstance of the place, of course. Harry’s charm is that there is absolutely nothing bourgeois about him. Instead he exudes a rough feudal charm. He refers to his neighbourhood, indeed his whole milieu, as his ‘manor’. I wonder if he had played at being a pirate lord as he scrambled about the bombsites of his childhood just as I had done in the more salubrious landscape of my own youth.
He is fascinated by the world of privilege. A patriotic desire to be part of a really big racket, I suppose. He wants a piece of the action. He actually asked my advice on how one got on to an honours list. ‘I wouldn’t want a peerage,’ he confided to me. ‘A knighthood would suit me.’ I think its martial aspect appeals to him, the notion of nobility of arms. He has a great admiration for upper-class men of action like Lawrence of Arabia or Gordon of Khartoum. Empire heroes and explorers he no doubt read of in picture books. And in his own way he sought to emulate them, to find some respectable and gentlemanly way to demand money with menaces. Some way of jumping the counter of middle classness straight into aristocracy.
Wednesday, 9 December
Managed to have a civilised telephone conversation with Ruth. She is very content with the new arrangements by which she will be financially provided for. So she should be.
The repairs to Hartwell are now in full swing. ‘The place is like a building site, Teddy,’ she said, which conjured up delicious images of sweating workmen for me. We have decided not to have Christmas at Hartwell Lodge due to the state of the place. She is going to friends and so I will be able to spend the time with Craig. We agreed that I will come down for a weekend some time in the new year once all the repair work has been completed. I have also resolved (to myself ) to get her out of the way some time later, so I can host a ‘party’ there.
Saturday, 12 December
Took Craig to see Olivier’s Othello at the Old Vic. Larry a frightful old ham affecting some ludicrous West Indian accent. Craig enjoyed himself. Thought L.O. very talented. ‘He could be in the Black and White Minstrels,’ he said.
Tuesday, 15 December
Dinner at Quaglino’s with Harry. First really serious chat about business. Present arrangements are fine but there are opportunities to expand. To be honest I’m worried about the precarious nature of Harry’s entrepreneurial activities. I dread being embroiled in some sort of ghastly scandal. Harry wants legitimacy & the way to this is in doing business on a grand scale. And so we can both benefit from this approach.
We went through the facts together. Harry’s various business concerns have accumulated capital which has been constantly moved around in order to avoid the attentions of the Inland Revenue & other interested parties. Now is a time for expansion, I argued. A big project to invest in. Preferably overseas.
Harry was enthusiastic at the notion of founding a business empire. The adventure of it appeals to him. Some way of making a mark on the world. He has an atavistic sense of economics. Dull commerce bores him. He has a desire to conquer, to carve something out for himself.
‘Maybe I could get a Queen’s Award for Industry, Teddy,’ he commented drily.
Saturday, 19 December
Worried about Craig. He went out the night before last and I saw nothing of him until he rolled back into the flat late tonight filthily drunk. We had a row. He has been, of late, lazy & derelict in his duties. When I diplomatically pointed some of this out he became obstreperous. ‘I’m not your bloody servant, you know,’ he snarled at me with a beery breath then slunk off to bed.
I can understand that the inequality of our respective status can make him insecure & even bitter towards me. But I did so much hope that we could get on without class resentment rearing its ugly head.
Monday, 21 December
The Commons tonight voted overwhelmingly (355 to 170) to abolish the death penalty for murder. Given the size of the majority it does not look like the Lords will try to frustrate this decision. This is the last important business of Parliament this year.
Friday, 25 December
Christmas. Craig went over to Bethnal Green to see his mother during the day & then back here for the evening. We had a pleasant evening together. Talked about ways that we could get on better. Craig was very sweet, apologising for his bad behaviour etc.
1965
Friday, 8 January
To the Colony Casino Club in Berkeley Square with Harry. One of the many new casinos that have opened up since the new gaming laws. Lots of overdressed Americans in the place. Apparently the film actor George Raft was present but I’m not sure who he is anyway. Harry introduced me to a charming New Yorker called Dino Cellini. ‘It’s an honour to meet ya, Lord Thoisby,’ he said in that cartoon Brooklyn drawl. All wonderfully Runyonesque. He & Harry then went off in a huddle but not before H. had handed me a big stack of chips to play with.
Haven’t played roulette since Monte Carlo in the twenties. It all took me back rather. I’d gambled recklessly back then. A young man’s vice. Squandering one’s inheritance to order to fuel one’s own ambitions. Faîtes vos jeux. Had a winning streak then lost it all by the end of the evening.
Friday, 15 January
A sort of eager solemnity in the Smoking Room. News is that Winston is v. ill. A stroke or something. Still, the old bugger made 90 only last month.
Saturday, 16 January
Craig has gone & done his disappearing act once more. Left the flat in an utter mess. And we had planned to spend time together this weekend. Really it is too much. Felt quite depressed. Had enough of waiting around so I went out to the Colony Casino again. Found out that by using Harry’s name I can have an account with them. Lost about £500. Felt cathartic though, somehow.
Sunday, 17 January
Still no sign of C. so I cleaned up the flat myself. Found a holdall of silverware under his bed in the spare room. His interest in antiques obviously more professional than I’d imagined. Worst fears realised. I’ve a thief living under my roof.
Tuesday, 19 January
Craig rolled in late, drunk. Confronted him about the silverware. He got very indignant & finally quite tearful, saying that he’d had a rotten life, never had a chance, etc. I ended up comforting him, but saying that he really must start to behave.
Thursday, 21 January
Awful day. The police turned up at the flat. That is to say a thuggish little man with beady eyes calling himself Detective Sergeant Mooney. Wanted to interview Craig but Craig wasn’t in. So instead he started to ask me all sorts of impertinent questions about our ‘domestic arrangements’ etc, making all sorts of gh
astly insinuations. When I asked him if he knew who I was he just nodded with a nasty smile & replied, ‘Oh yes, I know all about you.’ The upshot is, of course, that the grubby little policeman wants money. £200 pounds! Laughed in my face when I suggested payment by cheque. I’ll have to see Harry. Haven’t got that sort of cash to hand at the moment. Also, things as they are with Craig cannot go on. He’ll have to go.
Friday, 22 January
Went to see Harry at his Mayfair flat. Told him about yesterday’s unpleasantness. He seems to know this Mooney fellow. ‘He’s known for the fit up,’ H. commented. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll straighten things with him.’ Felt relieved & thankful but when I said, ‘Thanks, Harry, I owe you for this,’ Harry gave me a rather fearsome grin and said v. softly, ‘I know, Teddy, I know.’
Sunday, 24 January
Had it out with Craig. Asked him to leave. Terrible scenes, him shouting and becoming abusive. Then he went all quiet & just started packing. Left very quickly, muttering ‘You’ll regret this’ on his way out. Queen Anne carriage clock & some silver candlesticks seem to have left with him. C’est la guerre.
Felt v. depressed. Nursed a bottle of gin & listened to home service. News came on that Winston has finally croaked. Strange morose feelings about it. Not grief for him so much as a sort of mourning for my own failed career. I was one of the few people that stood by him in the wilderness years & yet when that undeclared assets business came about he froze me out. Can’t blame him for that, I suppose but I always felt a slight sense of betrayal.
Couldn’t stand moping about any more. Brooding about the past. Went out to the Colony to play the tables for a bit. Always gets me out of myself. Of course, by the time I got to the casino I was absolutely rotten fou. Have to watch this. Can’t even remember how much I lost.
Saturday, 30 January
Winston’s big send off. Full State junket at St Paul’s. Wanted to avoid the whole thing to be honest but Harry insisted that I go around to his for drinks. Turns out he was holding some sort of wake for the old bugger. Harry’s a big Churchill fan, of course. Got all of his LPs. I became the guest of honour, having known him personally. Was able to regale the assembled group of villains & ‘personalities’ with some anecdotes. Told of how, when W. was holding forth at the Oxford Union back in the twenties, F.E. Smith had heckled him, hissing, ‘Shut up, Winston. It’s not as if you’ve a pretty voice.’ Harry was in a more reverent mood, though. Proposed a toast. ‘To the last great Empire man,’ he announced. ‘We shall not see his like again.’ All of the East End lot quite dewy eyed. One thing the Socialists will never fathom. The deep loyalism of the genuine working classes.
Saturday, 6 February
Repairs completed on Hartwell Lodge so I travelled down to Hartwell-juxta-Mare by train. Good to get out of London for a couple of days. The Lodge is back to its former glory, I’m glad to say. How I’ve missed it! It’s such a strange hybrid of architecture. A Tudor end that had been built in the 16th century & a Georgian half added about 200 years later. Wonderfully secluded with a belvedere on top that gives a simply marvellous view of the coast. I wish that I could have it for myself.
Ruth & I dined agreeably enough. She still retains a sharp sense of humour, tinged though it is with bitterness. But as the day wore on to gloomy darkness things began to get awkward. We both had a lot to drink & it released the venom. I’ve never approved of women getting drunk. Especially Ruth. It makes her all the more ugly.
‘You’ve never cared about me, Teddy,’ she slurred at me. ‘It gets so fucking lonely out here.’
‘Then why don’t you divorce me?’ I countered.
‘That’s what you want, isn’t it? Well I’m not going to give you the pleasure.’
‘You mean that you stay married to me just to spite me?’
‘Is that what it does, Teddy? Spite you? Our little arrangements, all I’ve put up with. Oh, no, you won’t get rid of me so easily. I’m Lady fucking Thursby now.’
‘Then you should start behaving like her.’
‘Don’t you start lecturing me about behaviour. I know what you’ve been up to.’
‘Now Ruth, don’t be tiresome.’
‘I’ve heard all about you and your friends.’
She used the word as if it were a curse.
‘I’ve heard,’ she went on, ‘that you’re in with some sort of thug. Been seen at the dog track together, importuning young men.’
‘That’s a damned lie!’ I protested loudly.
She let out a hideous, eldritch shriek of laughter at this.
‘Oh, Teddy,’ she continued, hatefully. ‘You’re such a fucking joke. You and your precious discretion. You think anyone’s taken in by your ridiculous façade? Everyone knows you for what you are.’
I said that I’d had quite enough of this & got up to leave the room.
‘I didn’t marry a man,’ she called out after me. ‘I married a boy. I wonder if you’ll ever grow up before you die?’
Sunday, 7 February
To St Matthew’s at Hartwell-juxta-Mare for Mass. Ruth & I play at being Lord & Lady Thursby for the benefit of the parish. All teeth & smiles. Try to ease myself into the tranquil gloom of the village church. The solemn, calming ritual. Harbouring murderous thoughts towards my wife hardly puts me in a state of grace though. Go through the motions. Have a chat with the vicar afterwards, shake hands with a few dimly recognised parishioners.
Catch the afternoon train back to London. Nagging fears of gossip. I dread any kind of scandal.
Friday, 12 February
Went to Leicester Square Odeon for a charity showing of Lawrence of Arabia that Harry had organised. His favourite film, apparently. At drinks in the interval Harry all misty eyed & sombre. Some wag, a famous comedian or pop star or something, one of Harry’s ‘personalities’ had secreted sand into his shoe from a fire bucket & proceeded to pour it out theatrically at the bar. ‘Bleeding sand gets everywhere!’ he declared in a loud South London twang to much laughter. But Harry was not amused. For once he was entirely unimpressed by all the showbiz types crowding out the bar & foyer. He turned his back on the frivolity & muttered darkly to me, ‘Lawrence was a real man. He faced adversity with real bottle. And he was bent, like me.’
Harry feels an obvious attraction to the television-age celebrity that he often surrounds himself with but is really drawn to a deeper sense of fame.
Within him dwell dreams of high renown & adventure. We spoke of Arab culture & Harry talked about N. Africa. He had been in Tangiers in the fifties when he’d worked for Billy Hill, the king of the racecourse gangs.
Monday, 15 February
Lords debate on overseas aid. Afterwards talked to Lord Chilvers about Africa. Tony Chilvers is a newly ennobled captain of industry with plenty of ideas. We talked about the situation in Rhodesia. Both agreed that if Smith strikes out on his own the Tory party could be split in its response. Then he went on to the newly independent black states. ‘The thing is Teddy,’ he told me, ‘we want to make sure that they don’t turn commie. All of their nationalist intellectuals tend to look to the Soviet Union as an example of development and industrialisation.’ He went on to talk about theories of growth, ‘conditions for economic take-off’ etc. I was a bit lost but then he started to tell me about the opportunities for investment. Especially in Nigeria, apparently. Huge country, rich in resources wanting to modernise. He knows of many schemes that promise generous dividends.
I suddenly thought of Harry & his considerable ill-gotten capital. Such a venture would surely appeal to his strange imperial vision. It seemed ideal. The new government in Nigeria is, by all accounts, unstable & already rife with corruption. I said that I’d be interested in such an enterprise & knew of potential investors. Tony Chilvers promised to introduce me to a prospect.
Wednesday, 17 February
Miserable grey day. Sunk into gloom. Coming down with the ’flu I fear. Feel old and lonely. I miss Craig for all his faults. News on the wireless – Gambian
independence. Africa again. Coincidence or a sign that this investment idea is meant to be.
Thursday, 18 February
Stayed in bed all day, feeling ghastly. Plenty of medicinal scotch. Horrible feeling of being alone with one’s illness. Who will look after me when I am old & infirm?
Saturday, 20 February
Feeling much better. Went for a bit of a stroll amongst the drizzle. Spoke to Tony Chilvers on the telephone. Arranged a meeting with some Nigerian fellow. Colony Casino in the evening. Won £1,200!
Sunday, 21 February
Phoned Harry to mention African idea. Seemed v. keen. Also mentioned recent illness & H. said, ‘If I’d have known I’d have sent one of the boys around to nurse you better.’ ‘Well, now you come to mention it,’ I joked, ‘I haven’t made a full recovery.’ ‘Right then,’ he said & put the phone down. At around six, a blond-haired youth appeared! Gave him a drink & we quickly got on with the slicklegging. Very brusque and methodical but felt that was all for the best. Didn’t want to feel in any way engaged emotionally, what with all the awful consequences that stemmed from my attachment with C. Went to bed feeling wonderfully sated.
Tuesday, 23 February
Invited over to Tony Chilvers’s huge modernist mansion in Kingston-upon-Thames to meet this African chap. Expected a much older man. John Ogungbe looked like he was still in his twenties. Short & lithe in a tightly cut fashionable suit with an open-necked silk shirt. He wore dinky little slip-on crocodile-skin loafers. His hair was cut short to his scalp which, with his well-defined bone structure, prominent mouth & flat nose, accentuated his skull. As if the skin had been stretched tightly over his face with some economy. He is very striking.
We shook hands & his thick lips peeled to reveal an impressive set of teeth. But as he gave me this flashing white smile I noticed that his eyes remained impassive, cautious. They were yellowish & slightly bloodshot.
John has come from Nigeria to London to study engineering. Since qualifying he has divided his time between here & there & has been involved in various building schemes. He is determined, he tells me in great earnest, to use his education to improve the lot of his own people. We talked of development & I tried to make all the right noises.