Diary of a Wartime Affair Read online

  TUESDAY 10 JULY

  Read Lawrence’s letters in the train. It struck me that there is a similarity between his views and mine. E read Huxley’s Introduction at lunchtime and said this afternoon, ‘Of course, in so many ways you are rather like Lawrence.’

  WEDNESDAY 11 JULY

  We lunched (late) in Kens Gdns and talked about Lawrence’s letters – a highbrow conversation following a remark of mine that our conversation had descended steadily in quality. A discussion, too, on the physical element in our relations. E said it made the permanent core all the stronger but I feel it makes it more precarious. He is so sure of the permanent core, yet the physical element for him is greater than for me.

  THURSDAY 12 JULY

  I have felt so dismal all day. It has rained, thank heaven – quite a heavy downpour this morning after growing so dark I nearly switched on the light. Then – swish! And it poured with rain as I was dictating. But I couldn’t rejoice in it. All the zest had gone and I just felt empty – negative, dull, stranded. I made E unhappy too. He thought I doubted his love or disliked the physical side of it. But it was just gloom. At bottom, I think, I distrust myself – my faith had disappeared. I don’t know why, tho’ it is perhaps remotely related to Roy and Marjorie. It seems so tragic that they have the perfect opportunity without, I am certain, the spirit to make the most of it. I am a poor thing – I am lazy, lack originality and intelligence and application and feel dismal because I can so clearly see what not to be and do – I hate materialism and the ‘let’s get to the top and be jolly’ spirit and I humbly, and from a distance, love beauty and sensitiveness of spirit. I cannot overcome an inhibition which prevents me from revealing just what I feel is important.

  SATURDAY 14 JULY

  I was still recovering my spirits in spite of working hard but getting nowhere except thro’ the post for E and for FES. Too many people about for us to love so he kissed me about 3 times and we went to Victoria for coffee. He is fed up with work.

  There is a possibility that he and K may be at Regent’s Park Theatre on the same night as Margot and I are. I told him I couldn’t talk to her. I should tell her everything if I saw her. He was rather disturbed about it but I feel I couldn’t actively deceive her to her face. On the way up the hill I invented interviews with her in which I triumphantly vindicated my action and explained her shortcomings to her!

  MONDAY 16 JULY

  A heavy, woeful day. E has been worrying all the weekend over what I told him on Sat – that I couldn’t go on deceiving K if I saw her. ‘It would be the end – yet Doreen, you go down to my very depths.’ I have such a headache and my eyes are smarting with tears.

  FRIDAY 27 JULY

  Rather a depressed week. E has been working hard and late. First I felt very edgy – I don’t know if I let the work get on my nerves (as he said, and I said at home) or whether I missed him. Wednesday was the worst. Yesterday and today I have been gradually recovering. I have begun to get more detached. I know if we have to stop I shall survive. I feel more confidence now because, in spite of our love, I am independent. He gives me much and I take it but I haven’t shifted my whole weight on to him. I should suffer – be lost for a time – but I can get through by myself.

  MONDAY 30 JULY

  A brilliant sunny day, fresh this morning but unbearably hot in the 6.10. Lunched in Kens Gdns, happily – just a glimmering of love for each other. E said, ‘I think I dream of you every night … Sex is a queer thing – you had no feeling for me on Saturday and I hadn’t much more for you – I had a first touch then and you felt it too.’ He doesn’t really know me in the slightest emotionally, yet he tries to get close to me. Perhaps it’s my fault. He is clearly more penetrating and sensitive than most men, yet he can be quite mistaken.

  THURSDAY 2 AUGUST

  At last I have lost the depression which has hung over me since last Sunday week. Quite suddenly I felt better. I woke up to hear the rain pelting down last night. A westerly wind has been roaring and leaping all day, but these things cannot have transformed my whole outlook. It is inexplicable. I can hardly believe I am the same person today as yesterday. E says: which is the minor personality and which the normal? It is only with intellectual, detached effort that I can apprehend my feelings of yesterday. If I could only control it. I am not only lighter in feeling but quicker (if not so clear and detached) in mind.

  FRIDAY 3 AUGUST

  Two days ago I thought I could never have loved as I did this evening – so sweet yet so light, so passionate and so close. ‘Your eyes are beautiful.’ I used to feel afraid and uncomfortable when his eyes turned hot as he looked at me. Now I am not afraid and I suppose I like to feel my power.

  TUESDAY 14 AUGUST

  I went to Lyons at lunchtime and read some of Rees’ book The Health of the Mind. It is simple and didn’t say anything I didn’t know but it is practical and sane. There are times when I long for a child, but it’s probably better for the child as it is.

  THURSDAY 13 SEPTEMBER

  An eventful gap since I last wrote here – including a week in Shropshire with E. I must try to make a record of this gossamer happiness – soon, before its memory fades into golden and indistinguishable distance. Already it seems like a dream passed not in the darkness of the night but in the sunshine of heaven. I say to myself – only a fortnight ago today we walked Wenlock Edge and slept at the Plough. I look at him and remember how I lay in his arms, and slept and awoke to look into his eyes and we set out in the mornings with nothing to consider but the beauty of the earth and sky and the happiness of our love.

  Taking a break

  MONDAY 17 SEPTEMBER

  An unsatisfactory yet inspiring day with E. I felt a pressing sense of uncertainty, as tho’ every time he kisses me may be the last. I live in the spirit of de la Mare’s ‘Look thy last on all things lovely every hour …’ I don’t know how far this is due to the uncertainty of the concrete position – the possibility of external interference and how far it is due to my own fear of becoming too dependent on him or of his dependence on me; and the fear that we are suffering from the delusion that we are one and can transcend ourselves through sex. This is not true – it must remain experience to stimulate the self and not a basic support for life or a screen against reality. I must make something concrete from the experience – give back something in return or it will corrupt both our lives. Moreover the bridge between us is intellectual. If we had not attained some unity of mind we could never feel the deep passion as we do. ‘It is the play of your mind in your face that is so attractive.’ I must write a big novel some time. Meantime, some short stories for practice in expression.

  FRIDAY 21 SEPTEMBER

  Laziness is my besetting sin. Whatever resolutions I make I seem to do no better. I do not even keep level with the day’s post, let alone overtake the arrears; a snag or two, claims and post, and a caller, and the day has gone. So sweet, our secret love-making before we hurry for the train. I played for long tonight – tried the new Heller studies. I fancy at times I am making progress. I think it is simpler and I have more grasp of detail + whole, but I still have tremendous difficulty with laddering – a kind of physical conflict.

  TUESDAY 25 SEPTEMBER

  A joyful day! My heart soared high in happiness before, I suppose, crashing to dull despair tomorrow or the next day. It was due primarily to seeing The Moon in the Yellow River with E last night, a stimulating play of ideas – conflicts pinned down and adequately expressed by the characters – mainly the do-ers and the see-ers. Caught 11.46 and talked till quarter to two – not sleepy then. One would expect a bleary-eyed weariness all day with a gradually intensifying headache. But no!

  So sweet to find anew that we have the same approach, view things sufficiently from the same angle to be able to comprehend. ‘I should have hated you if it hadn’t been good’ – he pretended to quake and said he’d never take such a risk again.

  I looked to see if there were interesting films to go to – only Dr
Maurice, a Study of Hypnotic Power. A little later he said, ‘In this room is a study of hypnotic power. Every time I look at you, you stir me, fascinate me, hold me.’ We were nearly caught by Scott at 1.15, but the sweetness of his kiss at 5.00 before I rushed off to have tea with Elsie.* She said I was looking extraordinarily well.

  SUNDAY 7 OCTOBER

  A warm steamy day with no sunshine and intermittent drizzle. Went to church. Harvest Festival – the gorgeous 104 Psalm. Its only weakness is the last verse and that has a savage triumphant shout, but its beauty – the whole plan and spirit – its unspoilt ecstasy and unclouded joy in the harmony of nature. In detail and style so direct, simple and concrete. ‘Thou coverest thyself with light as it were a garment’ – magnificent simplicity, dazzlingly effective – ‘the wings of the wind’. It would be a good thing to learn by heart. That was the best thing in the service. The prayer for all sorts and conditions of men is lovely. The cadences of the sentences are perfect. The sermon was awful, the man sounded quite drunk at times. What he said was rubbish. I felt terribly angry that he should have nothing better for that big congregation than a musty collection of old tags not even strung together with any consistency. It made me so sick I couldn’t sing the last two hymns and nearly had to go home. Didn’t recover until Mr Henderson sang something from Haydn’s Creation. This was lovely, a jolly thing, and his voice is a heavenly boom.

  TUESDAY 9 OCTOBER

  A heavenly day – sunny, fresh and dry with a light blue sky. I have been dismal and cross all day due mainly to (1) general effect of Aunt Alice (Rosa† took her to Brighton and to a meeting about witchcraft this evening and was fed up because she was staying until tomorrow); (2) K’s restrictions on E’s activities. I don’t know how long it will be before the difficulties of our relations loom so large before me that I shall cut myself off and sacrifice the happiness which we do achieve. I am afraid I am growing to dislike her. Jealousy does not enter into this feeling – envy, perhaps – but it mainly is an obstacle, a barbed wire entanglement which has to be surmounted or threaded before we can do anything together.

  FRIDAY 12 OCTOBER

  A marvellous sunny day and yet I have been melancholy, so much so that I have had to make myself work hard to prevent myself from crying. All this week I have been unhappy and restless, probably because I love E too much and am so dissatisfied with our limitations. I could give him so much more, could make his home lovely, give him children to keep him young, and gaiety to make him laugh. (In fact I should probably be cross and discontented and edgy as I am now.) He has applied for a job in Statistics and Intelligence and I have done my best to persuade him to do so and typed his application. We had lunch in Queen’s Rd and this evening we went to University College (experiment on images).*

  TUESDAY 16 OCTOBER

  To old Mac. He is superhumanly patient – how my stumbling through Beethoven must grind his sensibilities. He grows enormous chrysanthemums.

  One of the difficulties with E is that I feel frustrated – can’t do anything concrete for him. That’s why it gave me such disproportionate pleasure to type his application. I don’t know, I hope I don’t just fizzle out about him. I wonder if now is the time for a clean break. I have quite recovered from my ecstasies.

  THURSDAY 18 OCTOBER

  A crowded day; Brown (builder) in the morning and Wood and solicitor (for E, who was at an Appeal meeting with FES). She stayed nearly an hour telling me sickening stories of how hotels are run in Oxford and Cambridge Terrace and Eastbourne Terrace. It made me so sick that I felt horrified when E touched me. She had a small old dog with her. Mrs Beadle this afternoon, dress maker and linen draper – for the sake of her nerves she must keep going and likes the work. Met Doreen Hosier* at 6.0. She was very cordial.

  SATURDAY 20 OCTOBER

  Very tired this morning after taking Rosa to the Gate to see Miracle in America after Practical Psychology at UC. E was tired too. After a long gap and not even seeing each other last Sat we both felt strongly moved. For me I recaptured some of the sweetness and felt some of the fear from our early love-making. E felt queer at the end. I think he over-exerted himself in his weary state. I was rather frightened – his lips were quite blue. I gave him some water but he looked shaky even at Victoria.

  MONDAY 22 OCTOBER

  A joyful day of exhilaration. Cloudy and strong west wind this morning after heavy rain in the night. Took Asquith’s letters to the office and bickered with E all day as to whether he should read them. Saw Wise re the Enquiry and a nice pale accountant re Carr-Glyn (actress but not ‘exotic’ or extravagant), otherwise little work. Played with E for a long time + a lengthy discussion on the profits from brothels in Eastbourne Terrace. When he kissed me tonight I wondered how I had doubted whether I still loved him. In the bus he said, ‘Nicer tonight than on Sat because of the bickering today.’

  TUESDAY 23 OCTOBER

  Another glorious sunny day. Lunch in Kens Gdns. E had not slept well ‘as I longed and longed for you’. It made me happy that he wanted me. I suppose that is mean. He said, ‘I could pick you out in the dark from fifty women, you are so small and rubbery!’

  THURSDAY 25 OCTOBER

  St Crispin’s Day – I am 28 and a half today! I don’t mind. This year has really been a year – more than a year – of happiness and sorrow, longing and fulfilment.

  To a lecture at UC this evening to hear Pryns-Hopkins on ‘Current Events Viewed Psychologically’. I quite liked him. We were late and the lecture room was full so we had to sit on an experiment table next to a brain on some blotting paper. Afterwards we went down the stairs at Goodge St and E kissed me twice so fiercely that it was almost agony.

  TUESDAY 30 OCTOBER

  A queer jumbled crowded day so that I am tired. It has been cold – the coldest night I think. Have been intensely in love today. He said, ‘I should like to shout to all the world, “She belongs to me.” I should be so proud of you – thousands of little things I love you for – so many that each seems fresh – the way your lips quiver, the tiny movements of your eyebrows – your face is never still. Yes, you are sometimes wearing – when you won’t listen. I wish you wouldn’t talk about babies. You have made me want them too.’

  WEDNESDAY 7 NOVEMBER

  Had to see Mrs Lewis and her accountant Goldwyn for F. E. Shaw. At the end she said, ‘I expected to see a tall thin person with grey hair and a beard, when the Inspector said, “Miss Bates”.’

  Glimmers of liking for E – I could just comprehend the possibility of really loving him. He came to Clapham Junction and just kissed me quietly for 2 mins.

  WEDNESDAY 14 NOVEMBER

  Just a word or two. E kissed me quietly today. The first time since last Wed, so sweet after an interval. We had an hour and a half’s inconclusive discussion on the value of religious institutions and the nature of religion.

  SATURDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  A good day to begin in this most excellent of notebooks, in which it seems profanation to write in pencil. I met Rosa and Margot and after coffee we went to Eden End – the best Priestley play yet and beautifully acted by Beatrix Lehmann, Ralph Richardson and Edward Irwin. It is odd how people apply plays to themselves. E says he must identify himself with the hero; M said, ‘Lilian is like me’; Rosa said, ‘Stella is like me.’ The people are alive, the situation is real but the play is descriptive only, tho’ it seems true. It is a little depressing, like an Arnold Bennett novel. You feel like saying, ‘This is true, not sentimental; it is real and represents life, tho’ it refrains from comment.’ So different from Lear or even Within the Gates.

  SUNDAY 18 NOVEMBER

  The chalk path showed ghostly in the silver light on the way to church. A thin sun shone into the hall as I was playing ‘Let the people praise thee, Lord’ for the children. I wrote my budget letter* and consequently felt depressed after tea; so did Margot, so we talked while my bath got cold. I simplified and crystallized what I think in the course of our conversation. Contemplation and creation
sum up the whole art of living so far as I am concerned – my ideas are quite clear that far, but I am sadly undecided about other people – How far should one consider other people? Should one try to influence them? – interfere with them? – give them what they want of you? – withhold oneself? I don’t know.

  WEDNESDAY 21 NOVEMBER

  Fog – so gloomy that I had the light on all day. Went to Sunday Times book exhibition at lunchtime. We had tea before I caught the 5.40 for a music lesson. E had said, ‘I can go to Burnham next week,’ which means the weekend for us. I said at tea, ‘The weather will be awful.’ He said, ‘The only thing to do is to go to bed early’ – then ‘expose yourself to the blind passion of man – you are divided about it, ambivalent’. I am not really, but he looks quite transformed.

  FRIDAY 30 NOVEMBER

  More than a week since I last wrote here and a period of ups and downs, exhilaration and despair, joy and sorrow, excitement and boredom. Saturday, Sunday and Monday morning with E, Winchester cathedral on Sat afternoon in the gloom of white mist on a darkening winter’s day. The choir in purple cassocks came to practise. We sat down in the dim nave to listen. E said, ‘It’s more than time you put on the ring,’* and polished it on his cap. It was partly this and partly the piercing sweetness of the boys’ voices, so fresh and young in that old, old place where so many thousands have chanted and died; I cried a little and said, ‘We must have tea.’ We went to Smith’s café, pseudo-Tudor, and then I bought Margot a Poole mug and we found a hotel and had dinner. E rang K up to say his cold was better and we went to the Regal to see The House of Rothschild – not bad, but I felt dismal and went on feeling dismal all night till I fell asleep. I could think of nothing but K. He was sweet and just said, ‘I am glad you told me why you couldn’t bear me to come near you or touch you.’ We both slept badly and in the morning I felt better. He came to me for a quarter of an hour. We took our lunch out on Sunday. We went first to St Cross (avoiding the attention of a professional photographer). After dinner I insisted on walking and we explored the town, and so back and to bed and an hour of love ‘three times in one day – even Elsie Fisher would think that good’.