Love in the Blitz

by Eileen Alexander

  Monday 28 September I had a very unsatisfactory day yesterday, darling. I got up so late that Aunt Teddy & I had to take a taxi to meet Jean at the Waldorf for lunch. Aunt Teddy said she couldn’t afford a Taxi so I said I’d pay for it – and, not content with that, darling, and just to make the position Quite Clear she said just before we got to our destination: ‘I haven’t any change, dear,’ to which I replied rather sharply I’m afraid, that I’d said I was going to pay for it. Is Schnorrer7 the kosher word I want, darling? I believe it is.

  Darling, Jean’s friend Square has just come back from America and he brought her – a lemon! She’s promised to show it to me next week if it’s still there.

  Sunday 18 October Dr Minton came to see me yesterday, darling. He poked me in the stomach & was vastly gratified to find that I didn’t flinch. Then he looked at my throat & said that though it was inflamed there was no infection, which was very satisfactory considering the state of my tonsils. Then he said suddenly: ‘You’re not happy, are you?’ I smiled sadly & said I could hardly be expected to be happy when I was separated from you for an indefinite time, darling. He said: ‘You live in the past, don’t you? You must look forward to the future, you know’ & then he asked me, darling, if we’d ever been Wanton. (At least he used a more Technical Term than that, my love, but you don’t mind if I translate what he said into our idiom, do you?) I said that neither you nor I had ever been wanton with one another or with anyone else. He asked how old you were, darling & then he said: ‘It’s a very rare and fine thing for a man of 25 to have conquered his impulses for so long – it will make your marriage very much richer.’ I asked him, darling, if this lean & sallow abstinence was dangerous to your health. & he said: ‘No, Sexual Continence is never harmful in a young man. It becomes harmful between 35 and 40 but before then it strengthens the character. I have a very wide experience of sexual cases and I’ve always found that the most loyal & passionate husbands are those who have controlled their impulses before marriage.’ He added, darling: ‘You know, of course, that these impulses do exist in every normal young man?’ I said I did, darling & I asked him if he thought it would have been better for you if we’d been lovers before you left. ‘Oh! no,’ he said. ‘I’m very glad you were not though most people would have been in the same circumstances. Your separation would have been much more painful physically for both of you if you had been.’ Then he looked at me very shrewdly, darling, & said: ‘You’re craving for it now, you know, though you may not be aware of it – You’ve certainly no need to be ashamed of it.’ (I said hastily that I wasn’t ashamed of anything about my love for you.) ‘It’s very natural. As a doctor, I should be much more worried about you if you were not.’ He went on: ‘You’re highly emotional & highly sexed – but you’re rather a Curious Case because you’re completely Monogamous and that makes everything much harder for you.’ He looked at me again for a moment, darling, & said: ‘You never desired any other man, however handsome or attractive & you never do now, do you?’ When I said I didn’t he nodded wisely & said: ‘I know.’ Then he smiled & said: ‘You’re lucky, you know, because when you & Gershon are together again you’ll get far more from your love than most people ever dream of.’ He went away leaving me much comforted, my darling.

  Last night while I was seeing Duncan I heard this conversation between Pa & my mother:-

  Pa: ‘It’s immoral to blame me.’

  Mum: ‘It’s no good – we can’t get on together any more.’

  Pa: ‘But I was only advising you.’

  Mum: ‘I have a Mind of my Own & a Will of my Own and I must Go my Own Way.’

  Good Lord, I thought, is our house Disintegrating? And then Pa said: ‘After all, darling, you must remember that it was my Call – I said 2 hearts if you remember.’ They were talking about bridge, darling. I laughed so much that I set myself a-coughing.

  Darling, on Thursday I’m moving out of Mr Murray’s room so as to be with the two Principals & the other assistant Principals in the Division. Oh! Woe. I shall miss our Philosophical Discussions. Never mind I shall go on Bobbing in and out of his room and talking of This & That whenever I find him disengaged.

  Wednesday 21 October Darling, Mr Murray has just Decreed that I am to drink coffee with him every morning after I have moved my quarters and that if I have any ideas, Philosophical, Sociological or Literary, I am to lay down my pen & books & come straight into him and talk. ‘Otherwise,’ he said, ‘I shall be denied the spiritual food which I have grown to expect since you came into my office.’ It was providential, my dear love, that I should have been taken away from the distressing influence of Mr Crotch’s easy & almost adolescent cynicism and put into the care of Mr Murray, with his great wealth of culture & serenity & faith – so that it was possible always to look into the future (our future, my darling, yours and mine) instead of at the muddle & frustration of the present.

  Monday 26 October Darling, your letters 34, 37 & 39 were waiting for me when I got home this evening. So you’re learning to ride, darling? Good – I like riding – we must ride together in the desert as soon as it’s cleared of Nazis.

  Oh! darling, I can’t explain Joan’s attitude to wantonness – I don’t understand it at all. You can suspect you’re going to have a baby, darling, a week after it’s started, by Not Being Decadent at the right time. After 3 weeks, when you’re sick in the mornings & always fainting about the place as well, you can be pretty sure, although a doctor can’t confirm it until it’s been developing for about 6 weeks. Please, darling, don’t have ‘occasional lapses or (if you can bear to wait for your little Solace) pre-marital experiences’. I’m a selfish little cluck, my dear love, but I love you so much that it would make me tremendously happy if you could wait to be wanton for the first time with me – but if you can’t wait, my darling, you know I shan’t love you less – provided you give me your word that it’s necessary to your well-being and happiness.

  Wednesday 28 October I had a long letter from Sheila this morning, my dear love, all about Joan. She says: ‘Judge not lest ye be judged’ and suggests that the teaching of Christ on the subject of forgiveness is worth considering. In reply, my love, I pointed out that Christ’s forgiveness extended only to those who were repentant or who had sinned through ignorance. Moreover, it’s only people of very high spiritual development who can accept a standard lower than their own & yet keep their integrity. I am not so highly developed.

  You know, darling, Pan is an extraordinarily selfless person in many ways. The other day I was chivying him for not going in for the Shakespeare prize this term. He looked rather uncomfortable for some time & then said rather reluctantly that Binns was very keen on getting it & as it was his last term, Pan had decided not to compete with him but to coach him instead. I talked about the set plays & it was clear that Pan had put in a terrific amount of work on them & would be able to give very valuable guidance to Binns, who is a Scientist & therefore has less time than Pan for reading. This morning, Pan told my mother with obvious delight that Binns had got the Shakespeare prize. I’m proud of our Pan, darling. Aren’t you?

  Saturday 31 October Darling, I was just paying for a very Dreary lunch in Fullers (everything was ‘Off’) when the girl at the Cash-Desk Hissed in my Ear Conspiratorially: ‘Would you like a cake?’ and Before I Knew Where I Was I was walking down the Strand balancing an enormous lemon layer cake in the palm of my hand. I’ve never been the subject of so much Attention in my life, darling, as I was during my journey across the 100 yards or so which separated Fuller’s from Bush House. If those Glances of Eye-Popping Desire had been directed towards me instead of towards the cake, darling, I’d have felt constrained to Call a Policeman! I shall take it to David & Sylvia this evening, my dear love. No doubt they’ll be able to Demolish it at Sunday tea.

  Darling, I overheard a Wonderful Conversation between our cleaners in the cloakroom this morning. It ran thus:

  1st Cleaner: ‘I bought an underset the other da
y, dear, and the man said: “That will be seven Coupons.” I said, “You’ll excuse my mentioning it but my daughter bought an underset the other day and she only gave six Coupons.” So ’e said: “Ah! Yes, but your daughter ’ad open French knickers and you’ve got closed ones.”’

  2nd Cleaner: ‘An Extra Coupon for a piece of elastic? Fancy now!’

  1st Cleaner: ‘Yes, dear, and when I told me mother – eighty-one she is, she said: “So now they charge you an extra coupon for being Respectable? No wonder things is all upsy down.”’

  And, darling, there’s no doubt that there’s Something in what the Old Girl Says.

  Wednesday 4 November Pa was in the Antique Art Galleries today, darling, and he saw a man whose face was very familiar buying Battersea Enamel Decanter Labels. After he’d gone Pa said to the woman in the shop: ‘I’m sure I know that man. What is his name?’ She told him, darling, that it was Laurence Olivier and that he was buying the decanter labels for his wife. (Vivien Leigh, darling, though Pa wasn’t aware of this.) He had told the woman that Vivien Leigh had only had one hat since the war started & that all her friends had implored her to get a new one or to buy some sort of decoration for her old one to make it look a bit different, so he was giving her the decanter labels mounted on hat pins, darling, so that she could have a brandy label in her hat one day and a claret one the next and so on!

  Friday 6 November Darling, I’m dining with the Nathans tonight. I never felt less like a Social Outing in all my life. It’s almost past the time when my mother might ring up to say that there was a letter for me, & the telephone is as Silent as the Grave. Oh! my dear love, I really am on the edge of hysteria. Oh! Hell, darling, if my mother doesn’t ring me up soon – I shall scream. I’ve just been discussing with Mr Needham, the Gloomy fact that everything Lethal these days is either Rationed (like Gas and water) or unobtainable (like almost any of the poisons you could name). Of course there’s always hanging but I expect all the Aluminium Hooks were swallowed up in Beaverbrook’s Spitfire Drive & the iron ones went with the Duke of Bedford’s railings. A girl can’t even Snuff Herself Out in Comfort in these Hard Times. No, darling, I think we’ll stick to our original agreement. I shall live until you grow tired of me & then you’ll smother me from humanitarian motives. Oh! My dear love, I’m so desperately unhappy. I can’t be flippant any more – I can’t.

  Saturday 7 November Dinner with the Nathans last night was rather entertaining, darling. His Lordship was away so Lady Nathan, Joyce, Bernard Waley Cohen (who still Hovers Hopefully) and I dined à quatre. The piece de resistance of the meal, darling, was a Duck which Lady N carved with noticeable clumsiness. Then after we’d demolished all the politer portions of its anatomy, my love, Bernard & I simultaneously asked for the carcass. I chopped it in half, darling, & Bernard had the Fore and I had the Aft and you should have seen her Ladyship’s face as we wrestled with the Bones. If ever the comment ‘She’ll never be the same again’ was justified it was then! After dinner, darling, I initiated Joyce into the Art of Tapestry (which was why I’d been asked) and then Bernard offered me a lift home on the back of his bicycle – a proposition which seemed to me to be neither Seemly nor Safe, so I Declined with thanks & Took a Taxi.

  Sunday 8 November Darling, this morning’s papers are full of the American landing in North Africa. If this comes off as a coup – as it seems it must – it looks as though the Middle East will be free of Germans in quite a short time, my darling. What then? Will you be sent home or shall I take further steps to try and get to you, my dear love?

  Tuesday 10 November Darling, before we’re married, you must give me a really scientific book on Wantonness to read. Mrs Thorpe says you can’t learn to be Wanton from books (if you’re a girl anyway) but you can (and she says you must) learn how much you’ve got to learn, otherwise you’ll get an Inferiority Complex and Pine Away. Do you agree, darling? All the books I’ve ever read on Wantonness have been either Sentimental like Marie Stopes or Philosophical like Kenneth Walker – but they all assume that you know all about the Pitfalls. Now, I, darling, didn’t know there were any pitfalls. I thought that you loved your Solace & were Wanton with him & That was That. As a matter of fact, my darling, with all due respect to Mrs Thorpe who, it cannot be denied, loves her husband, I’m sure that is that & I’d much rather leave all I need to know from you please than from any books – so, darling, all I shall want is a Fatherly little talk from my dear love.

  Wednesday 18 November Joan came to see us yesterday evening. She had had dinner with Robert & his Ex-Wife8 the night before. I’m glad you haven’t got an Ex-Wife, darling, at least not a real one. I couldn’t make a Thing of Her like Joan seems able to do. I should just sit and Glower at her with Deadly and Unabated Loathing. If I’d been Joan, my love, the dinner party would probably have finished up by my dropping an arsenic tablet into her coffee. Oh! well, I suppose it Takes All Sorts to make a World, darling.

  Friday 20 November We had a dinner party last night, my love, & Dr Minton was one of the people there. He told my mother in no Uncertain Terms what I’ve often said less brutally, & that is that Dicky has a mild form of Oedipus Complex & that she encourages him up to the hilt – and so she does, darling. She has him in bed in the mornings & both She & Pa love him to slobber over them. Pan & I look upon Dicky as the Goneril & Regan of our family, darling, to our joint Cordelia. Pa at least really believes, darling, that because Dicky is always hanging round his neck that he is fonder of him & my mother than we are whereas actually while Pan will go to tremendous lengths & personal inconvenience to spare my parents pain & I will too, to a much lesser extent, Dicky won’t put himself out a millimetre for them. Oh! darling, I wish my parents would realize that they’re not doing him a kindness by their attitude.

  Darling, did I tell you that Nurse’s husband had come home? They’re lunching with my parents tomorrow. When are you coming home, my very dear love?

  Monday 30 November Darling, Overheard in Duncan – ‘I wonder how Carmen Miranda9 manages to look Glamorous in a Turban – I look like a Christmas Pudding being Put On to Boil in mine.’

  Tuesday 1 December Darling, December has started well. Mum has just telephoned to say that there are two letters waiting for me at home. If I had a bonnet, I’d toss it over a windmill, always assuming, darling, that I could find a windmill. (I do love windmills, darling, don’t you?)

  Aren’t you being a little Disingenuous, my darling, to suggest that I might not like wanton letters? Do my letters sound as though I wouldn’t like them? Have I ever behaved as though I mightn’t like them? My Silly Darling Solace, I love them. Let’s have lots more – and Pooh to the Censor.

  Wednesday 2 December I am wrapped from the waist down in one of Kitty Thorpe’s ARP Blankets, darling. She has accused me of trying to look like Dorothy Lamour10 (a Libel, darling, because I’m only trying to keep warm) adding more Truthfully Than Kindly that it’s not really my genre. As a matter of fact, darling, I’ve always understood that Dorothy Lamour’s Genre was more in the unwrapping than the wrapping line – but I suppose Kitty was associating Swathed Blankets with Sarongs in her mind’s eye.

  Darling, I had lunch today with Joan Fisher & Felicity Logan (also Newnham & AM). I’ve often seen Felicity about the place & very pretty & fragile she looks, darling, but oh! how deceptive that china-shepherdess front is (what’s more, darling, I wish she hadn’t plucked all the character out of her eyebrows). Actually, my love, she’s a Female Home Guard in Fact & in Spirit and she Wants to be Allowed to use Firearms & She Hopes there’ll be an Invasion so that she Can Have a Go at the Hun. I’m not exactly Old-Fashioned, darling, but … I was really rather depressed by my lunch, my love. Not being a very good Civil Servant myself I have always comforted myself with the thought that the rest of my kind weren’t much good either. (I had no evidence to go on, darling, on the contrary everything I know points the other way. It was just a piece of Wishful Thinking) but Felicity Logan obviously thinks she’s so Good tha
t it shook me more than somewhat. Oh! Woe.

  Saturday 5 December I said half-jestingly to Joyce that she might have let me know that there was going to be a National Defence Public Interest Committee Luncheon for Beveridge so that I could have asked Mr Herbert to give me a seat. Do you know what she said in reply, darling? ‘I couldn’t go round telling everybody about it when I knew that there probably wouldn’t be room for the people who mattered – people with Names & Publicity Value.’ I said quietly: ‘I’m not everybody, Joyce, & I have, after all, had some connection with Welfare.’ It’s silly of me to be hurt by Joyce when she’s in that frame of mind, darling. I ought to be used to it by now – but I can’t help it, my dear love, it does hurt me.

  I had a very entertaining letter from Victor yesterday, my dear love. He says he’s developing into a cook of no inconsiderable skill & that it is generally agreed on his ship that, in his jam tarts & chocolate cakes in particular, he has few equals & no rivals.