I searched the pigeon-holes. Fuck had more slips than most, and the pile was divided into even more variant meanings than Bill and Tilda could provide. The oldest was from the sixteenth century.
The Scriptorium door opened, and Mr Maling came in with Mr Yockney, our newest, smallest and baldest assistant. I put the slips back and went to my desk to sort the post.
At eleven o’clock, I went to sit with Lizzie in the kitchen.
‘Mabel says you made a new friend on Saturday,’ she said as she poured my tea.
‘Two friends, actually.’
‘Are you going to tell me about them?’
Lizzie said almost nothing as I recounted my day. When I mentioned Old Tom, her hand sought the crucifix. I didn’t tell her about Tilda’s whiskey, but I made sure to say I drank lemonade.
‘They’ll be in rehearsals for a few weeks,’ I said. ‘I thought we could go together when the play opens.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Lizzie. Then she cleared the table.
Before going back to the Scriptorium, I climbed the stairs to her room and added Bill and Tilda’s words to the trunk.
The Bodleian Library was just minutes from New Theatre, so every request to find a word or verify a quotation became an opportunity to visit Bill and Tilda in rehearsals. My enthusiasm for these errands did not go unnoticed.
‘Where to this morning, Esme?’ Mr Sweatman was walking his bicycle towards the Scriptorium as I was getting ready to ride off.
‘The Bodleian.’
‘But this is the third time in as many days.’
‘Dr Murray is in search of a quotation, and it is my job to hunt it down,’ I said. ‘It is also my pleasure – I love the Library.’
Mr Sweatman looked at the iron walls of the Scriptorium. ‘Yes, I can see why you would. And what is the word, may I ask?’
‘Suffrage,’ I said.
‘An important word.’
I smiled. ‘They are all important, Mr Sweatman.’
‘Of course, but some mean more than we might imagine,’ he said. ‘I sometimes fear the Dictionary will fall short.’
‘How could it not?’ I forgot I was in a hurry. ‘Words are like stories, don’t you think, Mr Sweatman? They change as they are passed from mouth to mouth; their meanings stretch or truncate to fit what needs to be said. The Dictionary can’t possibly capture every variation, especially since so many have never been written down —’ I stopped, suddenly shy.
Mr Sweatman’s smile was broad, but not mocking. ‘You have an excellent point, Esme. And if you don’t mind me saying, you are beginning to sound like a lexicographer.’
I rode as fast as I could along Parks Road and arrived at the Bodleian in record time. Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England was easy to find. I took it to the nearest desk and looked at the three slips Dr Murray wanted me to check. They each had the same quotation, more or less (it is the more or less that I need you to verify, Dr Murray had said).
I found the page, scanned it, ran my finger along the sentence and checked each quotation against it. They were each missing a word or two. A good day at the Library, I thought, as I drew a line through what the volunteers had written. As much as I wanted to be on my way, I took care to transcribe the correct quotation onto a clean slip.
In all democracies therefore it is of the utmost importance to regulate by whom, and in what manner, the suffrages are to be given.
I read the quotation again, double-checked its accuracy. Looked for the publication date: 1765. I wondered to whom Blackstone thought the suffrages should be given. I wrote the word correction in the bottom-left corner of the slip and added my initials, E.N. Then I pinned it to the three other slips.
I took the longer route back to the Scriptorium, stopping in at New Theatre.
Inside, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The players were onstage, paused mid-scene. A few people were seated in the middle rows.
‘I was wondering if I’d see you today,’ said Bill when I sat beside him.
‘I have ten minutes,’ I said. ‘I wanted to see them in their costumes.’
It was a dress rehearsal. Opening night was just three days away.
‘Why do you come every day?’ asked Bill.
I had to think. ‘It’s about seeing something before it’s fully formed. Watching it evolve. I imagine sitting here on opening night and appreciating every scene all the more because I understand what has led to it.’
Bill laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. It’s just that you don’t speak often, but when you do it’s perfect.’
I looked down and rubbed my hands together.
‘And I love that you never talk about hats,’ Bill said.
‘Hats? Why would I talk about hats?’
‘Women like to talk about hats.’
‘Do they?’
‘The fact you don’t know that is what will make me fall in love with you.’
Suddenly, every word I ever knew evaporated.
May 31st, 1906
My dear Esme,
Your new friends sound like an interesting pair. By interesting, I mean unconventional, which is generally a good thing, though not always. I trust you can judge the difference.
As to the inclusion of vulgar words in the Dictionary, Dr Murray’s formula should be the sole arbiter. It is quite scientific, and strict application insists on certain types of evidence. If the evidence exists, the word should be included. It is brilliant because it removes emotion. When used correctly the formula does exactly what it was designed to do. When put aside, it is useless. There have been times when it has been put aside (even by its inventor), so that personal opinion can be exercised. Vulgar words, as you call them, are the usual casualties. No matter the evidence for their inclusion, there are some who would wish such words away.
For my part, I think they add colour. A vulgar word, well placed and said with just enough vigour, can
