Vanessa and Her Sister (40 page)

Sunday 26 June 1910—46 Gordon Square

They are home. They came straight here from the train, and the three of us discussed the nursing home and Dr Savage’s advice. Virginia submitted to the idea with little resistance. Clive looked scattered and shocked.

I painted while Clive took Virginia home. Adrian will look after her tonight. Still working on my seaside canvas. The little girl is now wearing a straw hat with a wide ribbon. I shall buy one like it for Clarissa.

Seven pm

Clive is back from dropping Virginia at Fitzroy Square and is truly upset. I don’t understand. I have told him about the Goat’s madness before. Did he not believe me? He says there was a terrible scene in Canterbury. Virginia did not take my letter well. Until yesterday, Clive had seen only the remote, endearing aspects of Virginia’s madness. Now he has seen the dark, uncontrolled edges of her. It all began well. She wrote me a clear, sober letter, but soon after Clive says she went mad, and beat her head against the glass window. Then she lay for hours in a darkened room with a thrumming headache. Clive wanted to take the train down yesterday, but he did not dare move her. He is so happy to be home.

· ·

I
T IS AGREED
. Clive and Adrian will take Virginia to Twickenham tomorrow, where she will undergo the rest cure for at least a month. By then Clarissa will be here.

And
—Clive was
not
pleased about
Lemon Gatherers
. He would have preferred I spend the money on a French artist—more cachet. Clive always considers how a thing will or won’t impress other people.

1 July 1910—46 Gordon Square

Spent the afternoon with Ottoline at Bedford Square. She is going abroad later this month. Philip is standing for election, and they want to get away before the upheaval of canvassing begins. I am hoping Clarissa will come before she goes. So few of my friends have children; it makes it difficult. I sat with Lytton for hours yesterday, gossiping and discussing Rupert’s affair with that schoolgirl. I can usually tell Lytton anything, but he becomes acutely uncomfortable when I mention anything anatomical, female, and unrelated to sex. Pregnancy terrifies him.

Ottoline is practical, if not at all maternal. It must be protective,
since she lost one of her twins. The boy was called Hugh. Her daughter, Julian, is a sweet, solemn child. Perhaps she and Clarissa can be friends?

· ·

O
TTOLINE ASKED AFTER
R
OGER
several times. She was more persistent and pointed in her questions than I would have expected. Have I seen him? Is his wife’s condition improving? Do I think it will
ever
improve? Is his sister Joan still looking after the children? Was Clive going to accompany Roger to France to collect the paintings for the November exhibition? My information is hopelessly out of date. I did not even know the exhibition dates had been set.

And
—Letter after angry letter from Virginia. The bed is uncomfortable. The hallways too loud. The food is inedible. And Miss Thomas keeps trying to convert her to Christianity.
And
it is all my fault.

31 July 1910—46 Gordon Square

No Clarissa yet. I feel sure she is fully cooked in there and ought to emerge any day now.

Clive has just been to see Virginia. Apparently she has set about seducing a Sapphic Swedish woman in the sanatorium—how alliterative—and apparently, half the ward is in love with her. Luckily, the amorous Swede was discharged before hearts were broken. Even with women, Virginia enjoys the mental seduction rather than the physical. Even the matron, Miss Thomas, a practical and sensible if overly religious woman, has also fallen headlong for Virginia. Virginia can be maddeningly charming when she chooses to be.

Later (hot and uncomfortable!)

Clive, Julian, and I went walking in Russell Square this evening. It is as far as I can manage. Clive and I sat on a bench, and Julian chased fireflies.

“Thoby loved fireflies,” I said, apropos of nothing. Julian reminds me more of Thoby every day.

And
—Miss Thomas plans to accompany Virginia on a walking tour of Cornwall once Virginia is declared sane again. Perhaps by the middle of August.

GRATIAN

20 August 1910—46 Gordon Square (hot)

N
ot
a girl. And
not
in July.
He
arrived yesterday, 19 August—
three
weeks late. I was so sure. We had an understanding, a communication. It was one-sided, it seems. Julian has a brother and will be thrilled. I was startled, certainly, but recovered from my disappointment as soon as he lay on my chest. He is here, and he is whole. That is all I asked for. I have decided to call him Gratian. Too exhausted to write more. I do not remember being this undone by Julian.

Later

Snow left last Monday, after hanging about for two weeks, and I wish she hadn’t. At the time, I felt like an inadequate hostess for not producing the baby I had promised. Unable to pull the rabbit from the top hat, I asked her to go home. Now I have asked Clive to cable and ask her to return. “Not Virginia?” Clive asked, hopeful.

“Not Virginia,” I said, standing my ground.

21 August 1910—46 Gordon Square

Everyone
hates the name. Not indifference but dislike. I am wavering.

Later (six pm)

Clive is sweet but nervous and just as inept as I remember him being. He is reluctant to hold the baby. I told him to buck up. At least this time I know he will grow into his fatherhood. He left to write to Virginia, who has finished her rest cure and has begun a walking tour with Miss Thomas. Virginia wrote letter after letter complaining of this woman and then went on holiday with her. Strange.

And
—I know babies often lose weight just after they are born, but Gratian is losing too much. He is spindly, frail. Worried.

24 August 1910—46 Gordon Square (ten am)

“Hadrian?” Saxon offered. He had been sitting in the corner with Gibbon’s Latin dictionary for the last three hours.

“No,” I said, annoyed by the subject. I am not up out of bed, but visitors are flocking in and out of my bedroom.

“Pausanius?”

“No, Saxon.” Adrian and Duncan had left for lunch, and Clive was off, most likely penning
another
letter to Virginia.

“Viggo?”

The baby’s name is not sitting well with anyone, including the baby. I must come up with something else. Julian was such a Julian when he was born. His name settled on him like a wave on the shore. Gratian is bumpy and loose and not settling on my new baby at all.

Later

“Clive, you cannot just disappear!” I hissed at him. The house had not emptied. Saxon, Adrian, Duncan, Maynard, Desmond, Aunt Anny, Molly, and Snow were all downstairs. Lytton is still in Sweden for his health cure, and Morgan left to dine with his publisher but will be back tonight. Gerald and George and George’s wife, Margaret, are due any minute and will be appalled by the collection of buggers in the drawing room. I needed Clive to stay and keep all the social feathers from ruffling, but he kept vanishing up to his study or out to meet art dealers, or out to meet Mrs Raven Hill for all I knew.

“I didn’t
disappear
. I have been cooped up in the house for days,” Clive said irritably. “You have dozens of people to help you. What do you need me for?”

“Clive, we have guests—lots of guests, and I want you to be the host. I cannot get out of bed and cannot control the rumpus downstairs. Could you please do that for me?”

“These people are driving me mad, Nessa,” Clive complained, dropping heavily into a fraying armchair. “I am leaving for Paris in a few weeks. I am meant to be helping Roger organise the exhibition. Desmond does not have the least idea about how to put this all together. I have things to
do
!”

“But Desmond is—”

“Desmond is acting as secretary for Roger for the exhibition,” Clive interrupted. “He is helping collect the paintings, set the commissions, that sort of thing.”

“Yes. I know.” I cannot bear Clive when he becomes pompous. “I was going to suggest that you talk to him here. After all, he is
downstairs
!”

Clive shot me an exasperated look. Clearly, I had missed the point. Clive was feeling trapped in our overstuffed house and needed to escape.

And
—Should I try the other broad branch of the Roman Augustan tree? What about Claudian?

Later (two pm)

I decided to take a different tack. When Clive came in after luncheon, I tried to speak to him again.

“Clive, I know you have things to do. You need to get out. I understand.” I took a deep cool breath. “But before you go, could you look in on the guests downstairs? And since you want to get away, could you make arrangements to go and get Julian from Wiltshire?” That is what I had been waiting to ask him.

“Nessa!” Clive leapt out of his chair and began to pace around the bedroom.

“Clive, you said you would go and get Julian from your parents as soon as the baby came. And now he is here.”

“Yes, he is. And I
will
get Julian. It is just not the right time
now
.” Clive was pacing between the window and the door.

“Why
isn’t
it the time?” I asked, exasperated. “Your Mrs Raven Hill? Is she away?”

“Yes,” Clive said, surprising me with honesty, “she is, but that is not the point.”

“What
is
the point?” I shifted uncomfortably in the bed. I am constantly uncomfortable. I remember the month’s rest after Julian being peaceful and happy. I do not remember this feeling of being pulled apart like wax and being unable to come back together again.

“The point is that there are things that need to be done in London!” Clive said, his voice rising.

“Clive—”

“No, Nessa. As you said, we have a houseful of guests, a new baby, a new nurse, you’re in bed, and it just does not make sense to leave to fetch one more person into the house.”

“That one more person is your son,” I said icily.

“Of course he is,” Clive said, sensing his misstep. “But Elsie will come back with him. I have no idea if Sloper and Maud have organised the new nurse’s rooms—have they, Nessa? Did you see to that? What is she called? Margaret?” He sat on the edge of the bed, tipping the mattress down in a way that irritated me.

“Mabel. Of course I organised it. I put her in the room next to Elsie. Julian will be in the night nursery. Gratian is here with me. Snow is in Virginia’s room, and all the other guests go home and sleep in their own beds.”

“And Virginia?” Clive said, avoiding my gaze.

“Virginia is in Cornwall, as far as I know.
Is
she in Cornwall, Clive?”

“How should I know where she is?” Clive said quickly. Too quickly.

Much later (one am—the baby just fell asleep)

“You asked her to come back. Didn’t you?” I said, choosing to be direct. I was too exhausted for anything else.

“She is your sister. Of course I cabled her. I cabled your aunt and my parents and brother too—would you like to see the receipts?”

“Yes, but you asked her to come back, didn’t you? You knew I did not want her here, and you asked her to come back.”

Clive did not answer. That is why he won’t go and get Julian. That is why he is restless. He is waiting for Virginia.

And
—The baby is not sucking as he should. He cannot grab hold of the thing. His instincts are off. Or my instincts are off? I am less adept this time around. He is smaller the Julian was. Less substantial. Terrified. Cannot sleep. The doctor is coming tomorrow.