LITMIR.BIZ

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if he sees any fighting, but I can imagine him passing his leisure hours by riding around the pyramids and pretending to be Rudolph Valentino in The Sheik.

      ‘Why did I fall for this ghastly creature, you ask? Well, primarily for all the usual reasons, he was so handsome, so glamorous, he rode to hounds so beautifully, and life always seemed to be so gay and amusing when he was around, but the real reason why I liked him was that he never tried to jump on me and I appreciated this so much that I began to believe he really did love me for myself and not just for my legs. So I wound up thinking: That’s the one man I could bear to marry – I shouldn’t even mind if he was disgusting when he was having sex – because quite frankly, I don’t see how men can avoid being disgusting when they have sex, so the great thing is not to mind when they do.

      ‘Anyway, earlier this year before he was posted to Egypt I decided to propose to him. After all, it was obvious after six years that he wasn’t going to do it, so I proposed and then he told me he was in the midst of an affair with an actress.

      ‘As a matter of fact I knew her, she was rather nice, but when I found out I felt absolutely crushed, and I said to Rollo: “Why did you never ask me to be your mistress if you’re the kind of man who does that sort of thing?” He just laughed. He said: “You’d have said no and slapped my face!” – which was actually true, as I can never see the point of coming second (being a mistress) when one can come first (being a wife). I’ve always thought fornication was a dead-end career for a woman, almost as futile as lesbianism.

      ‘Very indignantly I said to Rollo: “All right, I admit I wouldn’t have been your mistress, but I could have been your wife and then you wouldn’t have had to skulk around fornicating in such an undignified manner.” Oh, how cross he was when I said that! “I’m always very dignified when I fornicate!” he cried indignantly. “All my mistresses consider me a paragon of discretion!” “ALL your mistresses?” I shouted. “You mean you’ve had others?”

      ‘Oh Mr Aysgarth, you’ll think me very naive, especially as I’m a society girl who’s supposed to be the last word in sophistication, but you see, I loved him and love is blind and I wanted so much to believe he was pure and noble behind his dashing façade, quite different from all the other men in the world who appear to see me as a cross between a cream cake and an ice-cream cornet. Even Father, who’s so well behaved with his mistresses, only having one at a time and never in the same city as Mother – even Father and my brothers seem to see me as no more than a box of chocolates whenever they take time off from their full varied interesting lives to remind themselves of my existence. How I wish I’d been born a man! Gender’s such a prison sometimes, especially when one wants one’s new true self to be recognized and respected.

      ‘Anyway to return to Rollo I said: “How would you feel if I were to tell you that I’d been sleeping with everyone in sight for six years despite the fact that I’d regularly been saying that I loved no one but you?” And Rollo said as if I was being very stupid: “Oh, that wouldn’t have been playing the game at all! A man with mistresses is just living a normal life. A woman with lovers is just being a slut. That’s the way of the world, isn’t it?” At which point I drew myself up to my full height and looked him straight in the eyes and declared: “Your world, perhaps. But not mine.”

      ‘I told him I never wanted to see him again, but the awful part was I did want to, I missed him terribly, and it was just as well he was sent to Egypt or I might have weakened. I still loved him even though I could see he was just a selfish lout with the brains of a flea. I thought: that’s the last straw – I’ve lost first Laura and now Rollo, why don’t I just fling myself in the Thames? But I couldn’t bear the thought of being a failure and anyway I’m not the suicidal type, so I staggered on day after day until finally I had a big stroke of luck: I met Charlotte Ottershaw when I was transferred to the Starmouth Naval Base, and as soon as she started talking about her father the Bishop I saw my salvation. It was the Church of England. I thought: there’s where I can find a man who’s good and noble and pure, who won’t see me just as a box of chocolates and who’ll never betray me with someone else! Clergymen have to be virtuous because it’s all part of the job, and so adultery and fornication would be absolutely OUT.

      ‘Well, Archdeacon dear, I knew at once that I’d had a revelation and I was fearfully excited because I thought I could see the way ahead at last, but then I started feeling depressed again because I realized I knew nothing, beyond a few random facts, about the C. of E. and absolutely nothing about theology and philosophy and all the earnest things good pure noble men talk about. So I told myself that I’d got to find someone who’d teach me what I needed to know because my good pure noble man would at least expect his wife to be able to talk church language intelligently, it would be a sort of minimum requirement for the job. I think I’m actually quite clever, though it’s a wonder I ever learnt anything from Blackboard. Father thought education for women was a waste of time and Mother thought it was positively harmful so I suppose I’m a victim of a bizarre form of child neglect, but although I expect I often appear quite scatterbrained I’m not really stupid at all.

      ‘So now that you’ve agreed to be my Guide, Philosopher and Friend I must urge you not to assume I’m a fool and water down your erudition accordingly. I want to know everything, even the difficult bits. Can we start with the Church itself? I’d be so grateful if you could give me some information about the most important people, the sort of information which isn’t in Who’s Who – although I had such a fascinating time with Who’s Who the other day, I looked up the Archbishop of Canterbury and I think it’s so extraordinary that his father was Archbishop of Canterbury too – I wonder what the odds are against such a thing happening? It makes the Temples into a sort of dynasty, doesn’t it, and fancy Frederick being over sixty when William was born, maybe more men should take up religion so that they can keep bounding around when rakes like Rollo are chairbound with gout and hardened arteries.

      ‘I think William Temple will be a tremendous Archbish, he’s so substantial, isn’t he, and I don’t just mean in weight. He’s so human and sympathetic, not like that pompous old prig Archbishop Lang who was so beastly to the Prince of Wales. Now, what I want you to tell me is this: what does William Temple think? Someone said he was a Christian Socialist and someone else said his thought is a blend of Hegelian Dialectic and Platonic Idealism. I’ve heard of Plato (just) but who or what is Hegelian? It sounds like a kind of cloth – or possibly a very grand butler – and the syllables have such a thrillingly sumptuous ring. Write soon, I implore you, and expound on these esoteric mysteries to your most grateful disciple, DIANA DOROTHEA TALLENT.’

      Much amused I immediately picked up my pen and seized the chance to divert myself from the problems I was unable to face.

      VII

      I thought she would soon lose interest in the intellectual aspects of the Church, but her desire to learn persisted until I could only conclude her interest was genuine. I kept my explanations simple, in the belief that clarity is more important to beginners than complex detail, and I did make an effort not to talk down to her. Again Dido responded with gratitude.

      ‘… and thank you so much for explaining about divine Hegel – I was enrapt and shall now see everything in terms of thesis, antithesis and synthesis. My personal thesis was the frivolous society girl, my antithesis is the serious-minded student thirsting for enlightenment, but what will my synthesis be??? No, don’t answer that question, just go on telling me what churchmen think – or rather, think. (When people think, it might only be about the weather, but when they think, it can only be about things that are vital.)

      ‘Charlotte says you’re a Protestant, not a Catholic, which is most confusing as I thought the whole point of the Reformation in England was that we got rid of the Catholics, said “Yah!” to the Pope and lived happily ever after as the Protestant Church of England. Why are these Catholics still around? Anyway I’m glad you’re a Protestant, Protestant services are so deliciously austere and I’ve never been keen on all those flamboyant candlelit genuflections and

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