‘So, now I’ve given you three adjectives, can you give me your three of me?’
He lit his cigarette, looking into the distance once more with half-closed eyes, then said, ‘Beautiful, desirable . . . unattainable.’
‘Unattainable?’ I repeated. The first two words had made me smile as he’d said them each in turn, but that last one perplexed me.
He looked down. ‘Well, unattainable to . . . someone such as me.’
I wanted to say, ‘No, no, I’m not, I’m not unattainable.’ But I did nothing, and I said nothing.
‘Strange to think,’ he went on, ‘that by this time next year I’ll have finished my studies, left Oxford . . . probably be living in some rather dismal lodgings in London. And you . . .’ he glanced at me, ‘you may be married, Clarissa, or engaged to be married, at least.’
‘Nothing is certain,’ I said.
‘No, of course, nothing is certain, apart from a chasm which ensures our futures remain quite separate, I think.’ And then he turned to me, once again smiling. ‘Unless, of course, I go into domestic service, and then perhaps our paths may cross.’
I tried to laugh. I knew it was a joke, but I wasn’t altogether happy with his cynicism.
‘None of us knows our destiny,’ I said. ‘And no one knows what the future holds. But I certainly don’t wish to be married. Not yet.’
‘So will you marry for love?’ he asked, sucking out the last dregs of his cigarette.
‘Yes, of course. Why else would one marry?’
He shrugged. ‘Position; to maintain a status quo, perhaps; because one’s parents deem it the right and proper thing to do. And the union of new money and old titles still seems to be very much in vogue.’
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but his talk of futures being sold off made me feel nervous. I was out of my depth. Politics, social divides and the loveless marriages he alluded to were not my forte.
‘I think there may be a thunderstorm later,’ I said, rising to my feet.
The air was stagnant and feverishly hot in that quiet hollow by the lake, and as I walked along the jetty I could feel the fine white muslin of my blouse sticking to my skin. I longed to be able to take off my shoes and stockings, to walk in bare feet and dip my toes into the cool, clear water. And for a moment, only a moment, I wished he wasn’t there – so that I could remove my shoes, lift my skirt, and dangle my legs over the side of the little pier. I looked out across the water: I could hear a dog barking somewhere in the distance, and someone calling for it; a dragonfly hovered beside me, its wings iridescent in the early evening sun; and below me spiders skimmed across thelake’s flat surface. A family of moorhens took to the water in front of me: a mother followed by half a dozen red-billed, fluffy black chicks. Late chicks, I thought. And as I watched them, I pondered once more on that word: unattainable. It didn’t matter what he’d meant by it, I concluded, because the other two words I understood perfectly:
beautiful . . . desirable.
I smiled to myself, glanced over to him. He was still on the steps, leaning back, watching me. ‘He desires me,’ I said out loud, as quietly as I could.
There are moments too sublime to be later conjured in words. Standing on the jetty that midsummer evening so long ago, the world was perfect and I felt invincible.
My Darling T, your words made my hands shake, my heart sing out with joy, & I pray that no matter what the future holds those sentiments never change. Yesterday was heavenly, our perfect, perfect time, & I have spent the entire morning quite lost in my dream of it – & you. But today I cannot shirk my responsibilities, and oh how many I suddenly seem to have! In haste . . . YOD
Chapter Five
I met Tom the following afternoon at five, though I thought I’d spotted him earlier in the day, in the distance, by the lake, and for a moment I’d panicked, thinking one of us had confused our
He lit his cigarette, looking into the distance once more with half-closed eyes, then said, ‘Beautiful, desirable . . . unattainable.’
‘Unattainable?’ I repeated. The first two words had made me smile as he’d said them each in turn, but that last one perplexed me.
He looked down. ‘Well, unattainable to . . . someone such as me.’
I wanted to say, ‘No, no, I’m not, I’m not unattainable.’ But I did nothing, and I said nothing.
‘Strange to think,’ he went on, ‘that by this time next year I’ll have finished my studies, left Oxford . . . probably be living in some rather dismal lodgings in London. And you . . .’ he glanced at me, ‘you may be married, Clarissa, or engaged to be married, at least.’
‘Nothing is certain,’ I said.
‘No, of course, nothing is certain, apart from a chasm which ensures our futures remain quite separate, I think.’ And then he turned to me, once again smiling. ‘Unless, of course, I go into domestic service, and then perhaps our paths may cross.’
I tried to laugh. I knew it was a joke, but I wasn’t altogether happy with his cynicism.
‘None of us knows our destiny,’ I said. ‘And no one knows what the future holds. But I certainly don’t wish to be married. Not yet.’
‘So will you marry for love?’ he asked, sucking out the last dregs of his cigarette.
‘Yes, of course. Why else would one marry?’
He shrugged. ‘Position; to maintain a status quo, perhaps; because one’s parents deem it the right and proper thing to do. And the union of new money and old titles still seems to be very much in vogue.’
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but his talk of futures being sold off made me feel nervous. I was out of my depth. Politics, social divides and the loveless marriages he alluded to were not my forte.
‘I think there may be a thunderstorm later,’ I said, rising to my feet.
The air was stagnant and feverishly hot in that quiet hollow by the lake, and as I walked along the jetty I could feel the fine white muslin of my blouse sticking to my skin. I longed to be able to take off my shoes and stockings, to walk in bare feet and dip my toes into the cool, clear water. And for a moment, only a moment, I wished he wasn’t there – so that I could remove my shoes, lift my skirt, and dangle my legs over the side of the little pier. I looked out across the water: I could hear a dog barking somewhere in the distance, and someone calling for it; a dragonfly hovered beside me, its wings iridescent in the early evening sun; and below me spiders skimmed across thelake’s flat surface. A family of moorhens took to the water in front of me: a mother followed by half a dozen red-billed, fluffy black chicks. Late chicks, I thought. And as I watched them, I pondered once more on that word: unattainable. It didn’t matter what he’d meant by it, I concluded, because the other two words I understood perfectly:
beautiful . . . desirable.
I smiled to myself, glanced over to him. He was still on the steps, leaning back, watching me. ‘He desires me,’ I said out loud, as quietly as I could.
There are moments too sublime to be later conjured in words. Standing on the jetty that midsummer evening so long ago, the world was perfect and I felt invincible.
My Darling T, your words made my hands shake, my heart sing out with joy, & I pray that no matter what the future holds those sentiments never change. Yesterday was heavenly, our perfect, perfect time, & I have spent the entire morning quite lost in my dream of it – & you. But today I cannot shirk my responsibilities, and oh how many I suddenly seem to have! In haste . . . YOD
Chapter Five
I met Tom the following afternoon at five, though I thought I’d spotted him earlier in the day, in the distance, by the lake, and for a moment I’d panicked, thinking one of us had confused our