Lena’s Diary – Liza, April 7th 1926

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Tom drove at speeds I can only describe as completely thrilling when the road was straight and utterly terrifying at each and every bend or corner. I pondered whether my death in a road accident would help my sister’s case at all….

Tom asked me lots of questions about her which I obviously couldn’t answer as I hadn’t seen her for two years, which seemed to disappoint him somewhat.

Personally I was more interested in how Tom knew Liza… and what about the “pash” he had for her?

“Oxford. University”

Well that made no sense.

“She used to come over for the day with Nancy. Mitford”

What? Since when were Liza and Nancy friends? Liza hated Nancy.

“Then of course we just kept running into each other at house parties and night clubs.” He turned to look at me “She’s a devilishly good dancer, you know”

No, I didn’t and I was sure The Relics wouldn’t let Liza go out to meet boys at Oxford… or go to house parties and nightclubs? Not for the first time today I felt that all was not right with the world I had been expecting to return to. I began to wonder what awaited me at home…

It was dark by the time we swerved into the driveway that led to our house. My head banged against the window for the fiftieth time… I was going to have a headache…

I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed home until I saw it again. Home. Home! I was actually home… My feet hit the gravel before the car had even stopped and the side bit thing over the wheel caught me a glancing blow.

Flinging open the front door, well… putting my shoulder to the front door and ramming it over and over until it finally sprung open spilling me into the hall and straight onto my knees… I fell into the arms of Kitty.

Kitty!

Kitty, Kitty , Kitty. The first person I’d seen today that I was actually happy to encounter. I felt like weeping as she hugged and kissed and clucked and hugged me again. Finally! A welcome!

She hadn’t changed, still prim and neat and small and clucky. I really must tell you all about Kitty sometime. She’s been our maid for as long as I can remember. She comes from an enormous family in a grubby part of London somewhere and had never eaten any meat until she came into our employ. For all my Governesses and tutors and dear Miss Tregarth, the best part of my wordly education comes from Kitty.  However, I’ll leave that for another time, for now I was too eager to see my mother and father.

Not here.

Not here?

My sister?

“Oh Miss Lena, I’m not sure if she’s here… well, there must have been ten nor twenty young people in and out and in and out and… and if she is here she’s probably not up to receiving…..”

Not up to receiving? Goodness me she wasn’t the Queen.

“Don’t be silly, Kitty. Where is she?”

“She might be in the Drawing Room, I don’t know. There’s been such comings and goings… ”

I’d heard enough and rushed towards the Drawing Room and reached for the handle but… stopped. Gosh everything since I’d been back in England had been so very strange… I  hesitated…

A hand on my shoulder.

Tom.

“Allow me”

He pushed open the door and walked in. Literally hanging onto his coat-tails I followed.

Jazz music, people and a brief glance of what I can only describe as the most devilish vamp before..

A shriek. A glass narrowly missed my face and smashed onto the wall next to me. Its contents spattered my neck.

“Tom you fiend! How dare you turn up here? Get out!“

I ducked as another glass smashed against the wall. Tom bravely stepped forward.

“Liza, darling….put it down!”

Liza? It couldn’t be… The shock shot me upwards and straight into the path of a flying Champagne bottle. Wham.

* * * * * *

From out of the darkness I could hear voices and… giggling.

“….Well you didn’t know her before…. she was always clumsy and walking into things…”

“You threw a champagne bottle at her head…”

Giggles.

“I know… but I didn’t know it was her. I only saw you Tom. Should we move her to the sofa do you think? Could you lift her? She seems awfully big….”

Well that! And more giggles… too much. I mumbled my disapproval.

“Oh she’s coming round, good. Lena, Lena darling are you all right?”

My hand was grabbed and patted. I snatched it away.

“What did she say?”

“Erm I think it was Get Off”

It wasn’t but that was close enough.

I opened my eyes but as that only made my head spin I closed them again, really I did feel rather woozy.

I must have drifted off because the next time I opened my eyes I had been moved from the scene of my felling and onto the sofa. I say moved  but it felt more like dumped. One foot was on the floor, my arm most uncomfortably positioned underneath me and my skirt felt rather too high up. Shifting a bit and turning my head, oh dear that hurt, I was able to look at my sister properly. She was sitting with Tom at a card table. She was… ravishing. She was… everything I had come back to England wanting to be. How utterly annoying! I felt horribly outraged and wonderfully impressed all at the same time. Sitting back in her chair, smoking a cigarette from a long black holder in one hand and fingering a loose strand of pearls with the other she was… my epitome of everything. Urgh! The lamp behind her threw light onto her bare back. A long, slender back, simply edged by a gown of shimmering beaded silk. Her hair was bobbed and jet black. Oh what would I give! As she drew and blew her cigarette (such poise! Where did that come from?) I felt I was watching a film…   I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her. Leaning forward across the table, he spoke in a low, earnest voice. He was obviously a man in torment… Oh how I wanted to make a man feel like that…

“Hello, again.”

My head snapped round to the source of the voice and suddenly I was spinning again… spinning, in an almost lovely way…la-la-la-la spinning, spinning…. and then I felt sick.

“Are you ok? You look terrible”

No girl wants to hear those words from a man. Not even a girl who in one day has had her shin flayed by an errant porter, her toe broken by an angrily kicked door and  her head assaulted by a champagne-bottle-throwing sister. I would have protested but I still felt sick and daren’t open my mouth. I said a few things in my head though.

“Are you always this much trouble?”

No

No! I recognised that voice… I opened an eye… oh no! No!

Odious man.

How? What? How…..? What!

I can’t begin to tell you how angry I suddenly felt. A huge wave of rage rose up and washed away all nausea and spinning silliness. I was irate. I was cross. I was sitting up now.

“You” A Short word but I made it long…. Yooooouuuuuu

“Liza! You’re awake! I’m so sorry!”

Oh and now her. Little Miss Perfect Vamp Sister.

“You” Short word but looooong.

“I say Old Girl! Are you all right?”

Tom.

Short but looong.

I stood and pulled myself up to my full height, dragged there by my rage and head ache and the fact that no-one, no-one, oh well apart from Kitty, no-one, no-one had welcomed me home. No-one had been pleased to see me. No-one cared about me.  I drew myself up to my full height and looked at them all and took pleasure from the fact that they all recoiled slightly and looked rather worried… I drew myself up to my full height, my hands on my hips, my chin held high and I… swayed. Seeing a lone champagne bottle I grabbed it … audible gasps… oh how I wanted to lob it… how I want to scream and shout… instead I felt tears well up and my lip begin to wobble. With one hand clutching the champagne and the other my pounding head, I essayed a dignified hobble to the door. Once on the other side I let the tears and dignity fall and wept my way to my room.

I drank all the champagne and then I lobbed the bottle.

liza

My  Dear Champagne-Bottle-Throwing Sister (who’s been arrested for murder – and quite what she’s doing at home sitting about looking ravishing and not languishing distraught somewhere in fear for her life I haven’t found out yet)

Lena’s Diary – Dessert, Half Moon Street, April 6th, 1926

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Supper was uneventful. I was seated as far away from Charles Chuffy Champagne Charles as I could be. Nellie was seated opposite him and I was seated next to an awful bore called Evelyn Waugh. Evelyn, a man! had obviously had one too many tipples prior to this engagement. He ate nothing and only talked of men I’d never heard of and called a very many people “shits” which I’d also never heard but rather liked because I knew I shouldn’t – particularly when he turned to me and said “And no doubt you’re a shit in the making too”.

I passed on dessert but had a rather large helping of cold shoulder dished out to me when I left the table with the ladies. Lady H and Nellie were huddled on the sofa and as I thought that they would not be able to restrain themselves from confronting me, I murmured excuses and left.

The house was quiet and dark and I found myself in the Library where the faint embers of a fire still glowed. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, not really looking at the titles, not really even wanting to be inspired to pick one up and settle down to read. I felt strange, disorientated… but happy about it. Paris seemed an age away. I couldn’t reconcile the picture of myself just this morning with this me now who had seen… more. What I could be, who I could be…. I dreamed of it, running my fingers along the spines of books….

The door opened, spilling light into the room and silhouetting in the doorway, Charles.

“So here you are…”

He closed the door .

I began to study the titles of the books on the spines…

Dickens… Little Dorritt…

I felt him move closer.

Great Expectations…

“Lena…”

It was softly, softly spoken.

I turned… his hands reached for me…

And then he kissed me…

And he was still kissing me when Nellie walked in.

kiss1

I simply can’t leave it there… I was surprised that he kissed me but what I did… what I felt…

The moment his lips met mine my arms moved about his neck and I kissed him kissed him kissed him.

I had only ever seen kissing in films and it always seemed to me more like crushing… but this, but this…

I simply melted into him. I felt more alive than I ever had. I felt……oh I don’t know the words…. When Nellie walked in and we were forced to pull apart….. he looked at me…. and I knew he wanted to kiss me again and again… and I felt a sense of power. That’s not usual is it?

His eyes held mine and I said

“Goodnight Charles…. Sweet dreams Nellie”

and left.

I think maybe Evelyn was right.

(Photo from http://www.vintagevivant.com)

Lena’s Diary – Half Moon Street Contd.

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I’d been told to dress for dinner as a late supper was being held for some Very Important Guests and I was to show myself in the Drawing Room within the half hour. One of the wobbly footmen brought in my trunk, labouring beneath it like Atlas beneath the globe. As he toppled it onto the bed he simply went with it, rested his head upon it and died.

At least… I thought he’d died but he did stir when I prodded him with my foot.. which was a relief as although I had returned to England ready to embrace life and all its experiences, I didn’t feel quite ready to deal with corpses.

I dressed and descended and entered the Drawing Room. The Very Important Guests had obviously not arrived as the only person in the room was Nellie.

“Lena! Grandmama told me you were here. Gosh aren’t you tall?”

Urgh. I could barely bring myself to speak. I noticed she’d grown too. But not in height. Good.

“So what’s this about ? Who are we expecting?”

“Oh Lena, oh Lena…”

(Was she blushing?)

“…Well, Lord and Lady Appleby… their son…”

(She was blushing!)

“…and some other people…”

“Who’s the son?”

(Again blushing… It didn’t become her…)

“Well he, well we… oh there’s been an arrangement between our families Oh! since I was little…”

(Long time then)

“… I hadn’t seen him for an age but then I did and Oh!”

Oh!

“But you’re not even out yet, how can you be…?”

“Well nothing is official yet Lena. Obviously.”

She always says my name wrong. It’s sounded Layna but she says Lay-Nah. Irritating.

“….. But I will be out soon won’t I? and… Oh Lena you should see him. He’s just everything, everything a young man should be…”

I didn’t quite know what that meant coming from her. She was vapid, humourless, unadventurous and irritating, surely those qualities wouldn’t exist  in a young man who was everything, everything….

Before I had chance to press the matter, Lord and Lady Hallaton entered, encircled by servants; she rapping out instructions, he, hands clasped behind his back, looking like… well, one of the fumbling footmen; better dressed but no less likely to topple over at any moment.

And then the most startling thing happened. The front door bell rang and Lady H stopped talking (!), Lord H suddenly stood straight upright (I feared for his spine, I do believe I heard it crack), the servants fled and Nellie sank into a chair (I do believe I heard it groan).

I retreated to the corner the better to observe and conceal my amusement.

A party of people soon appeared. Introductions were made. My Lord, Lady Appleby, My Lord, Lady Hallaton, my dear Miss Eleanor. May I introduce Miss Sharp, Mr Hargreaves…

Oh the rigmarole. I must have seen this dance a thousand times but never without being struck by the absurdity of such bowing and scraping and simpering and  whimpering… Oh delighted, de-lighted! Too kind, too kind…!

I held out for as long as I could before the constraints of propriety and society forced me too to be an unwilling partner in the Introduction Dance.

No Prodigal Son. The dance came to an end. Everyone was aware that a dance partner was missing, that the steps were not quite complete…

“Our son will be joining us presently”

Well it broke the tension but still left us all cooped up occupying the same square metre of moth-eaten carpet. I was beginning to enjoy myself. Nellie looked like she was dying. Amusing.

And then the door bell rang again. The tension in the Hallatons was palpable. Nellie was a beetroot.

It certainly sounded like more than one young gentleman who was everything, everything had arrived, judging by the kerfuffle heard from the hall. It sounded like quite a few gentlemen in quite high spirits. Lord and Lady Appleby visibly stiffened.

And then, and then, who should appear? Who should bound into the room like a puppy missing his master?

Charles! Charles Chuffy Champagne Charles!

His neck tie was awry, his hair was askew, he came into the room, he saw me and said

“Lena, my darling! And I thought tonight was going to be dull!”

I immediately fell in love with him.

Everybody already in the room, immediately hated me.

Too, too amusing.

And there’s more…

Lena’s Diary – Half Moon Street, 7pm April 6th, 1926

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So after three years abroad my arrival home lasted less than an hour. Despite my protestations the old harridan Lady Hallaton dragged me back to her dingy mansion in Half Moon Street. My parents may be criminally Edwardian but Lord and Lady H make Queen Victoria seem modern. They still have footmen for goodness sake. They’re all as old as the hills too and it’s not uncommon when dining with the Hallatons for one to simply topple over. He’s studiously ignored by all but his compadre of course, they merely pick him up, dust him off, prop him up and all continues as before.

To tell the truth, by this point I was feeling somewhat sulky and sorry for myself and that was before Lady H informed me that I needn’t look so downcast as “wasn’t I fortunate?” her grand-daughter Nellie was staying at the house of the fallen footmen too “and aren’t you the best of friends?”.

Well, now, here, let me tell you, let me try to tell you how much I loathe, I mean simply loathe Nellie. The older generation love her, her peers hate her. She’s the girl who tells you not to do fun things because she doesn’t think the parents would like it and then when you do them anyway because they’re FUN she goes and tells the parents that you’re doing it AND she does it in a way that simply endears herself to them by crying REAL TEARS and saying “Oh I feel so terrible to be ratting them out but they wouldn’t LISTEN and I was so WORRIED.” Boo-hoo boo-hoo, there, there, there, there… and so you’d be called down from treetops or rooftops or clifftops whichever and punished and she would sit eating some special treat or other and say “Well I did tell you they wouldn’t like it…”

A short carriage trip and we’d arrived (Lady Hallaton would no more own a car than she would hitch her skirts up and dance the Charleston. She still thought the waltz was immoral). Even the trees looked old and depressed, bet the last time they waved their leaves was for Queen V’s Jubilee, probably moralising on the decline of the new generation just like the inhabitants of Hallaton House. I felt gloom overwhelm me…. but I didn’t know then what was about to happen, of course.

I’m lying here writing this in one of the guest bedrooms. Not one of the nicer ones with air and a sense that the last occupant left the room breathing, no. I’m in a room that if Dickens had rested here would surely have inspired one of his greatest, bleakest novels. Actually, I wonder if he did stay here…. Bleak House? Anyway t’is the gloomiest, dullest, chilliest rooms I’ve ever had to endure but it matters not because I am glowing! Simply glowing! And I’ll tell you why…

India-Babindia’s Nursery Crimes Part 1 – The Truth About Jack and Jill

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When my daughter was little, I wrote her a series of nursery rhymes. This is one of them… more will follow.

They say Jack and Jill went up the hill,

The truth not told is Jill’s there still.

Went Jack fell down and broke his crown

Jill did not fall after.

The truth is, Jill was suddenly seized by uncontrollable laughter.

She lay and watched as he boo-hooed

And laughed so much she couldn’t move.

She said “This is a happy day…

I didn’t like Jack anyway”.

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