Collected Works of E M Delafield

by E M Delafield

  Well, this mother does everything she possibly can to mess up David’s life. Sometimes the father is dead, sometimes he is merely unsatisfactory, and sometimes he, also, has his life messed up by this wretched woman. In no case does he ever do the only sensible thing — get rid of his wife and send his children to boarding-school.

  David struggles on, the mother like a mill-stone round his neck, and long before anybody would have thought it possible, he has established himself as a well-known writer, or financier, or whatever it may be.

  In the second half of the book, he falls in love with the sort of girl whom one would expect him to avoid like the plague, since she is merely another, younger edition of his mother, and this girl always ends by going off with his greatest friend. (From the very minute that David meets this greatest friend, on his first day at school, it may be taken as an absolute foregone conclusion that the friend will eventually take away either his wife or the girl he is in love with.)

  In the end, David marries somebody with grey eyes and a fearless outlook, called Elizabeth or Anne, and they have a baby, and it is a silent, determined, intelligent, sensitive little boy — and so it all goes on ad infinitum.

  We must not exclude girls from this rather unenthusiastic review of children in fiction. There are not, perhaps, quite so many of them, but in their own way they are just as exasperating.

  Very often they have Irish blood in them — which, in itself, to the non-Irish, seems unnecessary. It does, however, provide an excuse for their being named Patricia, which they usually are.

  The main point about Patricia is that she attracts the attention of men at a very early age. Often and often, the reader cannot see why this is so, but it is. Also, she dances beautifully, and can, and does, quote obscure poetry. We do not think that in real life this would please any man we have ever met, unless he happened to be the actual author of the quoted poetry — and perhaps not even then, — but in books Patricia gets away with it, and the man not only recognizes her quotation, but admires her for making it. In real life these would not be his reactions at all.

  Patricia is very fond of the open air, and walks for miles and miles, and at the same time talks about sex with whoever is walking with her. Anybody would think that sex was the only subject in the whole world, to read about Patricia, because she never seems to take any real interest in anything else, from the time she is four years old and asks her mother, How do babies come? and the mother declines to give her any intelligent reply. But as we have said before, mothers in fiction are like that.

  We often wonder how the author supposes that Patricia and David and Co. grow up into the pure, sane, honest, modern, and clean-minded creatures that they are said to be, when their childhood is one perpetual handicap.

  HOME LIFE RELAYED

  I

  Good-morning, everybody, good-morning. We are now taking you over to No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate, where Mr. Clarion Vox will give us his impressions of everyday life as it is lived by so many of us.... MR. CLARION VOX.

  *

  Good-morning, everybody, this is Clarion Vox speaking from No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate. No. 74 Floral Crescent is situated in one of the most residential parts of Highgate and I am speaking from there. I’m going to do my best to describe to you everyday life as it is being lived every day. ... Clarion Vox speaking.

  It is just breakfast time now ... at least if the black marble clock on the dining-room mantel-piece is right it is, but on the other hand, the cuckoo-clock in the hall ... but listeners can hear for themselves what the cuckoo-clock is saying....

  Mother is coming into the room now ... she has on a blue jumper and skirt ... she is saying something about the bacon ... she is trying to get it said before Father comes into the room.... Father is on the stairs now ... he can be heard quite distinctly ... I am sorry to say that he seems to have tripped over something.... I’m sure listeners will agree that the front stairs is not the proper place for the cat at eight o’clock on a Monday morning.

  Now the bacon is being taken out of the room by Norah ... it looks as if she would run straight into Father on his way to the dining-room ... but she may clear him.... Yes ... she’ll do it.... Father has another three steps to go.... Now Norah has practically got her foot on the swing-door ... she’s through it.... No — no — she’s not.... I’m sorry, everybody, but in the excitement it was a little bit difficult to make sure ... but Norah and Father have now definitely fouled one another on the linoleum....

  Listeners can hear for themselves what Father is saying.... No, no, I’m sorry, everybody, but the B.B.C. has to consider the susceptibilities of listeners all over the country, and on the whole, just at the present juncture....

  Now the children are coming into the room.... I’m sorry I can’t tell listeners what they’re saying, because Father is still talking about Norah and the bacon ... still talking ... not quite finished yet.... Now I think he’s drawing to a close.... No, no ... not quite yet.... Now it’s dying away. ... All over now.

  Mother has just begun to pour out ... she is asking Dickie if he has washed his face ... she wants to know why not ... she is speaking very quietly so that I find it difficult to hear ... she has one eye on Father all the time.... Now she is making signs to Doris to go out and get the bacon whilst Father is still occupied with his porridge. Doris has gone out. Listeners must have heard the door bang for themselves, and I’m very, very sorry to say that this has upset Father all over again.

  Now Baby is at the door asking to be let in, and Father wants to know if this is the nursery or what, but the return of Doris with the bacon is diverting his attention again, and Baby is crawling quite unobtrusively under the table.... Listeners will very probably agree with me that this is a thoroughly short-sighted policy, and will almost certainly lead to trouble later on.

  At the moment, everybody seems to be concentrating on the bacon, which appears to be rather over-cooked ... in fact a piece chipped off by Dickie has just gone on the floor ... he is grinding it into the carpet with his heel....

  Now Father is talking about the bacon again ... he still seems to have plenty to say about it ... everybody else is perfectly silent.... Father is still going on.... I can hear Mother murmuring Hush, dear, to Doris, who has made a crunching sound with her teeth....

  I only wish that listeners could hear for themselves the extraordinary number of times that Father is bringing in the word “bacon” without ever saying the same thing about it twice.

  I must beg everybody’s pardon for having forgotten about Baby all this time ... he is still under the table ... he has found the piece of bacon chipped off by Dickie and is quietly eating it....

  Father has reached the marmalade stage now.... Doris has had a misfortune with her tea, and I’m sure listeners will all join with me in hoping that this may escape notice from the head of the table.... I’m afraid it’s caught his eye.... No, it’s all right, Mother is drawing his attention away ... she is saying that it looks like more rain....

  I’m sorry to say, everybody, that my time is now drawing to a close, but I hope to resume my running commentary on home life at No. 74 Floral Crescent very shortly.

  We have just a moment or two left, I see, so listeners may like to know that Father is just starting for the office ... there has been rather a tense moment or two relating to the absence of his boots, but I see that Norah has rushed them up from the back premises just in time.... Now Mother is helping him into his overcoat.... She is reminding him that they have promised to go to supper at the Laurels with Grandpapa and Grandmama to-night.... Father has gone off, slamming the door behind him.... Listeners will draw their own conclusions as to the significance of this gesture.

  Mother is going back into the dining-room again, where I am afraid that Baby is becoming very seriously involved with the table-cloth.... Yes, I was afraid so....

  I am sorry to say, everybody, that my time is up.... Clarion Vox speaking.... Good-bye, everybody, for the moment. Good-bye.
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  II

  Hallo, everybody, hallo. This is Clarion Vox speaking, and before we go over to No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate, for my running commentary on home life there, I should like to say a few words to those listeners who have so kindly written to me about my last talk.

  The suggestions received have been very helpful indeed, and later on it may be possible to carry them out, or at least some of them. I’m afraid the idea of a running commentary on the daily round at Pentonville is not quite practicable at the moment, and the same thing applies to the relaying of home life at the Vatican ... but I hope listeners will realize how grateful I am for these, and similar, suggestions.

  I am now going to take you over to No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate, where everyday life is going on in a thoroughly everyday spirit.... Clarion Vox speaking, from No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate.

  I am going to do my best to give listeners an impression of what is going on all round me ... this is Clarion Vox speaking....

  The breakfast things are just being cleared away from the dining-room and Mother is asking Norah to be careful.... I am afraid this is not a very successful remark, as Norah is flouncing out of the room and shutting the door with her foot rather sharply.

  Now Mother has turned her attention to the canary ... she is saying that the state of the cage is a disgrace ... the canary is chirping.... Mother is speaking seriously to Doris, and Doris is kicking the leg of the bamboo table ... Mother is still speaking, and Doris is still kicking ... the canary has stopped chirping. The table with the cage on it rocks every time that Doris kicks it ... the canary is clinging to its perch.

  I wish I could convey to listeners the feeling of suspense that is invading the atmosphere ... very nearly over, then, but not quite ... the situation is still unchanged ... Mother is still speaking seriously, and Doris is still kicking. Still going on ... still....

  I’m very, very sorry, everybody, but the catastrophe always seems to be averted at the eleventh hour, just as one expects ... this time it really must be.... No, no — not yet ... the canary is practically upside down, but ——

  Listeners may possibly have heard the crash for themselves ... the scene is one of great confusion, but I’m sure everyone will be glad to hear that the canary is still alive. Doris is in tears, and Mother is picking up bird-seed from the floor.

  Now things are more or less in statu quo, except for the canary’s chirp, which is, unfortunately, quite extinguished for the time being. A little later on, I shall hope to inform my listeners as to the progress of our little feathered friend.

  Now Dickie has come into the room, and is saying that he and Doris will both be late for school. I am inclined to the opinion that he is perfectly correct, as it is past nine o’clock already.

  Mother is telling them to take their mackintoshes, and they are asking Why.... Now she has got them to the front door ... they’re off.

  No! I’m sorry, everybody, but Dickie is jibbing badly at the mackintosh. I think he’s going to win. ... No, Mother is holding firm ... he’s taken it.... Now Doris has come back to say she’s sorry about the canary.... They really are off this time.

  Mother is going to the telephone with a list of groceries in her hand ... she has been given the wrong number ... now she’s being told that the number is engaged ... the Exchange is saying that it will ring her.... Listeners who may have had similar experiences in their lives will know how far this statement is to be depended upon.

  I can see Baby coming into the room, and I am glad to be able to say that I can hear the canary twittering faintly once more. Baby has left the door open, and now the cat is walking in. This, I am sorry to say, has completely silenced the canary again.

  Now Mother is making a fresh attempt ... she has the receiver in one hand and the list in the other ... she’s asking for the Home and Colonial ... she’s got them ... she’s starting on the list.

  Baby has produced a small tin trumpet and is blowing it.... Norah has come back and is taking away the rest of the breakfast things, and Mother is still in touch with the Home and Colonial. She is having some difficulty in making clear her requirements in the way of sardines.... Now Norah is breaking into the discussion with a reminder about cheese ... she declares that the master likes Gorgonzola ... Mother is ordering a quarter of a pound of Gorgonzola.

  It’s a little difficult for me to hear everything that’s going on, because the laundry van has just driven up to the door, and the man has left his engine running and is talking with Norah on the front-door step, but I can positively assure listeners that Mother is keeping up her end well with the Home and Colonial ... the sardine question is settled, and they have got on to furniture cream. ... Baby is still blowing the tin trumpet spasmodically.

  Well, everybody, I’m very sorry to say that my time is drawing to a close, but I shall look forward to another talk a little later on. One last little piece of good news to end up with is that the canary.... No, I’m very, very sorry, everybody, that wasn’t the canary at all — it was simply the Home and Colonial ringing off.

  III

  This is Clarion Vox speaking — good-evening, everybody, good-evening. We are now going to switch you over to the Laurels, — which is simply a twopenny fare from No. 74 Floral Crescent, Highgate, — where, as I am sure listeners will remember, Grandpapa and Grandmama are expecting their son and daughter-in-law to supper to-night.

  This is Clarion Vox speaking from the Laurels. ... I am going to do my best to describe to you what is taking place here this evening....

  In the first place, I’m sorry to say that it’s a very, very wet evening ... there is a depression off the coast of Ireland that is rapidly ... I beg everybody’s pardon, I was announcing the Weather Forecast last week, and for the moment I forgot.... But this is really Clarion Vox, in a running commentary on home life....

  As I was saying, the weather is most unfortunate, and Grandmama is laying down sheets of newspaper over the linoleum in the hall.... I’m sure listeners will realize that, with every desire to make the talk as full as possible, it is quite impossible for me to give them the actual names of the newspapers.... The B.B.C. has to make very stringent rules as to anything of that sort, and naturally....

  Very well, then, Grandmama — as I was saying — is laying sheets of anonymous newspaper over the linoleum. Grandpapa is ... well, at the moment, Grandpapa doesn’t seem to be doing anything very much ... perhaps later on in the evening I shall be able to tell you rather more about this side of things....

  Now there’s a ring at the bell ... they’re just arriving ... they are all saying that it’s a wet evening ... they’re all saying it.... Now they’re saying it again, in different words.... Now Grandpapa has said it, all by himself, but the others have got on to something else — I think it’s the children — and nobody is taking any notice. They’re all moving into the drawing-room now and saying how nice it is to see a fire. Grandpapa is sticking to his guns, and going on about the weather.... I’m sure listeners will all agree that this is the spirit that has made England what she is to-day.... Nothing very much is happening ... things are going on quickly.... Now supper is taking place and Grandmama is carving the beef.... Everything still very quiet ... the stewed rhubarb and custard are on the table now ... cheese and celery ... port.... All over now, and they’ve gone back to the fire.

  A suggestion has been made as to a game of Bridge ... yes, I thought so, they’re going to play.... Grandmama is saying that she and Grandpapa will play together ... he seems to be objecting.... Yes, he’s quite definitely objecting ... still holding out ... firm as a rock ... he’ll carry his point.... Yes, he’s done it. Grandmama is dealing ... now we shan’t be long.... I’m sorry, everybody, it was a mistake ... it’ll be another moment or two before ... Now I think we’re off.

  I do really beg everybody’s pardon.... I should like to describe the position of every card in detail, but it’s quite difficult to see any hand excepting Grandmama’s, and hers, rather unfortunately, c
an be seen by everybody ... she’s being asked to hold it up.... Grandpapa has gone no trumps ... now it’s two hearts ... three no trumps ... four clubs ... things are moving so rapidly that it’s rather difficult to follow ... but the upshot of the whole thing is that Grandpapa has been left with three no trumps doubled ... he’s not looking quite as confident as one would wish.... No, things are not going very well for him ... now they’re going still worse ... and Grandmama is perhaps rather making the most of the situation.... Wait a minute, though ... she’s played out of her turn ... Grandpapa says that this entitles him to call a lead ... listeners may very well have heard him say it, he’s very much excited ... he’s being supported by his daughter-in-law ... the whole situation is becoming involved.... Now Grandmama has flung her cards all over the table and is saying that this is simply a friendly game, played for amusement.... I’m afraid she’s in tears ... nobody can do anything with her — the game is breaking up in confusion.

  I don’t quite know what my listeners would feel about Grandpapa if they could see him at the moment ... he’s picked up all the cards and has begun to play Patience rather ostentatiously ... this is really reducing Grandmama to a state practically bordering on insanity ... it’s almost too distressing to describe.... I’m so very, very sorry, everybody, but it’s really quite doubtful whether I can go on.... But wait a moment ... things are clearing up a bit ... yes, I think the situation is improving ... the servant is bringing in cocoa, and Grandmama is being persuaded to drink a cup ... I think this ought to restore her morale, beyond a doubt.... Yes, she’s quieting down now ... a question is being raised as to a new line of printed linen bedspreads, eight-and-eleven-three, at Harper’s Sale in the High Street ... she says she’s thinking of going to look at them to-morrow ... her daughter-in-law is offering to go with her. The conversation is now becoming almost entirely feminine, and I’m really not quite sure whether ... Besides, as a matter of fact, it’s really time for our talk to come to an end, and it almost looks as though Grandpapa felt the same about the visit of his relations.... No, that wasn’t Clarion Vox.... It was Grandpapa saying Good-night, everybody....