Later.
In the evening Mummy went to bed early with a headache, & Louisa helped Mary, she made chicken mousse, with salad & greengage tart
& clotted cream for pudding. It was delicious. Dear Louisa looked really pleased, we were all begging for more, & even Miranda said, involuntarily, ‘This is absolutely gorgeous, Louisa, thanks a lot.’
Doesn’t sound much but gosh dear Diary, that is a lot coming from her at the moment. They smiled at each other & suddenly everything seemed a bit less . . . I don’t know, again. I wish I wasn’t so stupid & could find the words to describe it. But it’s beyond me, obviously. Goodnight DD, I am finding you so helpful.
Love always, Cecily
Wednesday, 31st July 1963
After our long conversation, I dreamt I was with Dad, only he was a young man, in Lahore. We were walking through a bazaar together & it was very hot. I could smell sandalwood, incense, rich beautiful perfumes, & we were pushing red, pink, burgundy silk rugs & carpets out of the way as we walked. Then I woke up, & it is funny, for the first time I can remember I was disappointed to be here, in Summercove. Normally it is the place I long to be at most, my home, I dream about it when I’m at school endlessly, & when I wake up & I’m in my horrible dorm smelling of damp & Margaret snoring, I could cry. Like when you wake up thinking it’s the weekend & then realise it’s only Tuesday.
Today, me, Guy & Louisa went with Mummy to St Ives to see her dealer. She tried to get the others to come along, & they were being too lazy & wouldn’t go. Bowler Hat was going to come, but he was very irritating, Uhming and Aahing about whether to, & in the end he dropped out.
He wanted to sunbathe, which I suppose if I am being charitable is fair enough, it was boiling hot, but why does he have to take an hour to decide?
We were late to leave because something funny happened. Mummy was holding the door open for us as we scooted in, like an air hostess,
& when the Bowler Hat finally made up his mind at the last minute not to come (I think he saw how cramped the car would be), she sort of swiped at him, like Scarlett O’Hara, only she stumbled a bit on the gravel (drive v uneven) & it was awful, she trod on his foot with her little heel. Nearly gave him a stigmata, Archie said. (Archie found the whole episode hilarious – but he loves pain & suffering, he is a fairly Base Person). He was hopping around in agony, & we had to give him a bandage. Mummy was so mortified, it was quite funny to see her embarrassed, normally she never loses her cool, ever.
She drove like a lunatic to St Ives, I think it shook her up. But Louisa was wonderful, talking to her nicely about her show, though it only seemed to make Mummy crosser, somehow, oh ARTISTS. I talked to Guy, which is, DD, becoming one of my favourite things about this holiday. I feel like I could talk to him all day & night & never run out of things to say. I told him about my chat with Daddy yesterday, about going to India, about the Koh-iNoor diamond.
Guy said: I saw it at prep school. We came up on a charabanc, we went to the Tower. I wore some chain mail. It was v exciting. When you’re next up in town, we should go together & have a look at it if you’d like.
People are stupid sometimes. I said: Guy, I’m at school. In Devon. I don’t go up to town, ever.
He looked embarrassed as if he hadn’t really thought about it properly: Oh. Maybe in the holidays.
Me: Yes, that’d be lovely . . .
Actually I don’t ever go off to London in the holidays, unless we all go to visit Aunt Pamela. But I felt I can be honest with Guy. So I said,
‘Really Guy if I were to go out by myself in London, I should want to go to Soho, to sit in a bar & drink Cafe Cremes (or is that a cigarette? Can’t remember), not amble around with hundreds of tourists looking at the Crown Jewels.’
Guy started to laugh, & he laughed so hard Louisa & Mummy asked what we were talking about. He held my hand up, like boxers do in the papers when they’ve won, & he squeezed it. ‘You win again,’ he said, & he kissed my hand, & then nudged me.
I sometimes think with Guy that It’s a bit of a bunfight, getting into the town, now more & more people have cars. There’s a queue everywhere. It was annoying, & Mummy still had the roof down & we were in all the back streets & people were staring at us & I didn’t like it.
Stupid red-faced day trippers with ices, staring at us, because of the big cream car & because Mummy looks like someone famous with her headscarf and big dark glasses. Suppose she is famous. But I felt like Little Lord Fauntleroy.
Mummy’s dealer at her gallery is French, with a funny name – Didier & he is very nice. However his father was there too, a famous dealer from London who runs the gallery where Mummy’s show will be. He is called Louis de something, & he was far too over the top, he kissed Mummy’s hand too. He spoke to her in a very funny way. ‘Dear Madam,’ he called her. ‘Dearest lady, you who shine brighter than any other.’ Etc etc.
On the way back we stopped for petrol & heard on the radio that Stephen Ward has taken an overdose this morning. The judge began summing up the trial yesterday. He is in a coma. I feel sorry for him. But some of the things . . . ! Archie whispers ‘Vickie Barrett’, whenever I go into a room, as she is the girl who said there were whips & chains & contraceptives lying around Stephen Ward’s flat. Don’t believe it but it’s most alarming to think of.
Dear Diary, we had a lovely evening when we got back, quiche Lorraine & salad &
