The Rich Are Different (103 page)

My own children with the exception of Alan regarded the American invasion without enthusiasm. The twins considered Rosemary and Lorraine hopelessly babyish and Scott and Tony awesomely adult. When George complained the little girls kept getting in his way I became harassed enough to wonder how Emily coped when they all descended on Bognor, but of course from the moment my children first crossed her rented threshold Emily made sure everyone had a wonderful time.

‘There was this lovely, lovely lady,’ said George after the first visit. ‘Like a queen. I paddled in the sea and she held my hand when a big wave came. Then we had jam sandwiches for tea and chocolate cake and pink ices.’

‘We all played French cricket,’ said Edred. ‘It was absolutely ripping. Everyone played, even Emily and
even Scott.
We laughed and laughed and afterwards had lots of lemonade which Emily had made herself.’

‘Emily has real gold hair,’ said Elfrida. ‘I asked her if it was dyed and Nanny was livid with me but Emily just laughed and said it was real. She had a jolly nice bathing costume and she told me how pretty my dress was and asked if you had my clothes specially made for me, so I said no and told her about Marshall and Snelgrove. She was nice. We talked for ages.’

‘I’m so glad, darling,’ I said in a cocktail-party voice.

‘You can come down to Bognor with us next time, if you like, Alan,’ said Steve. Alan had been at Winchester during the first visit to Emily. ‘I know Emily wants to meet you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Alan who had long since rejected his Van Zale relations as thoroughly as he had rejected Paul, ‘but no.’

‘Why?’ demanded Edred. ‘Emily’s your cousin. She explained it to us. Your father was her mother’s brother—’

‘Grandmother’s brother,’ corrected Elfrida.

‘I’m not
interested in distant relatives.’

‘How rude!’ said Elfrida. ‘And Emily’s so nice!’

‘Elfrida,’ I said gently, ‘leave Alan alone. He may have all sorts of reasons which you know nothing about.’

‘Oh, you always take Alan’s side!’ stormed Elfrida, and rushed from the room.

‘I need a drink,’ I said to Steve.

‘God, so do I!’

We drank and went on drinking. Eventually in early September Emily went back to America. I was never more relieved to know that the
Queen Mary
had left Southampton and my consumption of alcohol went into an abrupt decline.

Unfortunately Steve’s did not.

It was early in 1938 when I first heard the rumours which Cornelius was disseminating about him. I had been in Norfolk inspecting the flood damage, for that February the sea broke through Horsey Gap to make Mallingham an island again and the waves had even reached the walls of the Hall. By the time I returned to London I was exhausted by the effort of cleaning up the mess, but I was determined not to cancel an important lunch I had arranged to further my new career. I had decided to interest myself in women’s education. It seemed to me that the more women were well-educated the more likely they would be to object strongly when they later found themselves underpaid, underprivileged and underestimated by their co-workers, and my vision of the future encompassed a world where so many women were sufficiently well-educated to hold well-paid jobs that the government had been forced to legislate against discrimination by sex. I was prepared to admit this was a somewhat radical vision, but I was surprised when so many people found it shocking.

I was just expressing these sentiments over lunch at the Savoy to my three guests, all of whom had important posts in the world of women’s education, when I heard an American say at the next table: ‘… and so I went to Van Zale’s in New York.’

‘Did you see Van Zale himself?’ asked his English companion.

‘Yes, he was very competent, just a young guy, but it was clear he knew what he was doing. Later I told him how surprised I was that Sullivan quit. Have you ever met Sullivan?’

‘No, but we’ve all heard of him, of course. He’ll come a cropper before long. He drinks, you know.’

‘So Van Zale said. In fact Van Zale said that Sullivan’s “resignation” wasn’t voluntary – they had to get rid of him and were nice enough to let him leave with his reputation intact.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ said the Englishman. ‘But they’ve got a good man at Van Zale’s in Milk Street now, an American but educated in England, really a very civilized sort of chap …’ And he began to talk about the benefits of an English education.

My guests were still talking enthusiastically about founding a new
organization to promote grammar school education for girls, but I could no longer concentrate and as soon as I decently could I went home.

I decided to tell Steve about the conversation because I saw it as a chance to bring up the subject of his drinking without fear of triggering an unpleasant scene. I knew what happened when one attempted to criticize a heavy drinker for his habits, but I thought that if I merely repeated the story Steve’s anger would be directed not at me but at Cornelius.

I succeeded almost too well. He immediately wanted to sue Cornelius for slander, but he calmed down, became more rational and promised me solemnly that he would cut down on his drinking.

I had heard that story before but I nevertheless encouraged him to try while I carefully pruned our social calendar so that we led a quieter, more relaxed life. I also shelved my ideas of carving out a career as a fund-raiser for various educational schemes. I had no idea whether I would have been a success in this field, but it seemed obvious that the last thing Steve needed at that time was a wife who was pursuing her own career with success while his own was foundering. Instead I thought it might be wise to discover how much talent I did have for fund-raising so I selected a charity connected with bettering the lot of the poor in the East End and put myself to work. It was good experience for me, it passed the time and Steve could hardly regard it as a threat, particularly since I was exhibiting conventional behaviour for a woman of my class by dabbling with charity work. I was also able to help the poor, a fact which I often forgot but which was undeniably true. The women in the East End certainly gave me food for thought. They had countless children, lived in one room without running water, shared a lavatory with thirty other families and died of malnutrition and exhaustion when they were about my age.

I often thought how lucky I was, even as my problems with Steve increased, and to divert myself both from the dreaded shadow of alcoholism and the sordid facts of the East End I turned back once more to the newspapers and magazines.

In the new magazine
Picture Post
there was a photograph of the well-known millionaire Mr Cornelius Van Zale at a New York ball given to launch his new art museum and celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Mr Van Zale expressed a genuine admiration for certain types of modern painting; he thought Picasso was probably a good investment, and he was hoping to acquire some pictures by Modigliani. When interviewed later by
Time
magazine about his first thirty years, Mr Van Zale said he was quite pleased with them and hoped the next thirty years would be as interesting. When asked about his philosophy of life Mr Van Zale said he believed in the old-fashioned American virtues of thrift, hard work and loyalty to one’s family and the flag.

Meanwhile in Europe the swastika was rampant. We used to see the newsreels whenever we went to the pictures, and as we heard the hysteria of the Nazi gatherings I would close my eyes and see not modern Germany on the screen but the tortured art of Dürer and Bosch. The old metaphysical
concept of evil took root in my mind; for the first time I felt truly close to the medieval intellects who could so clearly visualize the fires of hell and the screams of the souls in purgatory, and the fires seemed to roar again before me in a nightmare which not even Bosch could have foreseen.

Emily was going to bring the children to England that summer, but hesitated at the last minute because the international situation was so grave. Tony came on his own but left well before the end of August.

In September the British navy was mobilized, Hitler shouted that Czechoslovakia was the last territorial demand he would make and Chamberlain flew to Munich to make peace.

When he came back with his piece of paper I said wonderingly to Steve: ‘Doesn’t he know? Can’t he see? There
is
no compromise with these people. Duff Cooper sees that, Eden sees it, Churchill sees it—’

But the country, swooning with relief, didn’t want to see it, couldn’t bear to look at the fires which were raging ahead of us in our doomed corridor of time. Even I had to look away, and when Steve’s final collapse came it was a relief to exclude the outside world and turn instead to our severe and all-consuming personal problems.

At the end of the year he lost two more important clients. Business was bad anyway for bankers, and for Steve it was disastrous. While he was in bed for a week after a bout of suicidal drinking I went to our house, used my power as a partner and demanded to know the exact financial position.

It was bad, worse than I had anticipated, and I knew the house was doomed. The correct decision was obviously to cut our losses, salvage the remains of our capital and retreat to Mallingham for a while, and as soon as I considered the prospect I realized how tired I had become of my London life. London would be unsuitable for the children anyway when war came, and Steve would need a quiet place to recuperate. We would still have plenty of money to live a comfortable country life; Steve could take his time to decide what to do next and if he could only give up the drinking I was sure he would have no trouble finding a first-class job. It would probably be better if he made no attempt to re-enter banking, but he could perhaps act as a financial consultant for one of the big American companies in England. I wondered what I would do if he wanted to return permanently to America but in fact, as I soon realized, Steve had no desire to return a failure to New York and give Cornelius the satisfaction of watching him find a job. He also had no desire to concede defeat at Milk Street – and no desire whatsoever to give up drinking.

I tried to reason with him, but as anyone who has ever lived with an alcoholic knows, they can be very unreasonable people. Finally he flew into a rage, said it was all my fault he was in such a mess and told me to get the hell out of his business affairs. This also was fairly typical behaviour for an alcoholic. I didn’t argue with him, but I didn’t stay with him either. I could still hear the doctor telling my father’s third wife that once the alcoholic picks a victim that victim has to escape in order to preserve his own sanity. Accordingly I packed two suitcases, collected Elfrida from her day school
and caught the train to Norwich. Nanny was already at Mallingham with George, Edred was now away at prep school and Alan as usual was at Winchester.

I left a note for Steve which read: ‘I’m very sorry but I’ve already lived with someone who drank himself to death and it’s an experience I can’t go through again. I love you and I want you to get well more than anything else in the world, but I can no longer help you. Only you yourself can do that now. DINAH.’

He arrived at Mallingham at dawn the next day. After leaving the train at North Walsham he had walked the eight miles east to Mallingham. He was worn out, dishevelled but sober.

‘Dinah.’

I awoke with a start and in the dawn light saw his face. Leaping out of bed I ran to him.

‘Steve – darling—’

‘I’ll give it up,’ he said. ‘I’d give up anything for you.’ He kept asking me if I loved him and I kept telling him that it was because I loved him that I had left.

‘I had to take some positive action – it was terribly important – I had to make you realize—’

‘I was afraid you didn’t love me,’ he said. ‘I was afraid that if I was a failure you wouldn’t love me any more.’ And he said the words Paul had always denied me, told me he could never look at another woman and wouldn’t want to live in a world where I didn’t exist.

I kissed him, slid my arms around his neck and stroked his untidy hair. Then I said: ‘There’s a place in Hampstead. It’s very exclusive and very, very private. Harriet told me about it. Several of her clients from the salon have been there to have a nervous breakdown or stop drinking or both. There’s a resident doctor. It isn’t run by quacks.’

‘But if everyone in the City knows I’m at some place for crazy people—’

‘It won’t be difficult to keep it quiet. We’ll simply say you’ve gone back to America to attend to some private family matters. Luke and Matt have just returned to the States – you can say you went out to California to help them settle down.’ I did not argue with him about his future in the City. I was bending all my will towards getting him to the nursing-home.

After a long silence he said: ‘How do I get into this place?’

‘I’ll ring them up and find out.’

‘God,’ he said, ‘I’ve got to have a drink. I’m sorry but I can’t think clearly any more unless I have something. Forgive me – I can’t help it – I love you but …’ He opened a drawer of the tallboy, rummaged among his pullovers and produced a bottle of vodka.

‘Steve,’ I said, ‘we won’t bother about phoning Hampstead. Let’s just drive there straight away.’

‘Whatever you say,’ he said. ‘Whatever you want.’

I drove him all the way to Hampstead. It took four hours and he was
unconscious when we arrived. The doctor was very understanding and even lent me his handkerchief when I broke down. I cried for some time but afterwards I felt calmer and more optimistic. The critical first step towards recovery had been taken and I could at least allow myself to believe he might recover.

Two weeks later in early February when Hitler was already eyeing Poland and Chamberlain was finally realizing that no further compromise was possible, I had a telephone call from Cornelius’ right-hand man, Sam Keller.

[1]

I was in London when he telephoned. I had to be there during the week with Elfrida who attended a day school in Hammersmith, and although Steve was allowed no visitors I wanted to be near the nursing-home in case the worst happened and he walked out. After a light supper I had just escaped into the romantic fantasy of Tennyson’s poetry when the telephone rang. The head parlourmaid answered it. When she entered the room I told her to say I was not at home but curiosity overcame me and I asked who the caller was.