mistake to run after Gwyneth. Gwyneth is an incorrigible gossip – you never know what she might be saying about you behind your back. Today we were in the garden and we could see Laura P. and Phyllis taking each other’s photos, and Gwyneth made some unwholesome remarks about them. They couldn’t possibly have heard from where they were, but after supper I was sitting with Yeld, Prideaux and Grissell, and during a discussion about people generally Gwyneth and Dorothy were mentioned. ‘I always feel,’ said Yeld to me, ‘that those two are watching us. When Laura and I were taking photos of each other in the garden I was sure they were talking of us.’ I chuckled inwardly.
Thursday, 23 June
The worst of them are over – finished. Arithmetic, History, Geometry, French, Algebra and English. I have washed them away in my bath tonight and now I am between clean sheets and in clean pyjamas.
I do not think I have got Matric. I wrote a fairly decent essay on Modern Communication. The Grammar I think I did fairly well on too, perhaps I have got Credit. The Set Books I am not so sure about. Algebra – of course that was unspeakable. I have obviously failed in that. The French was better than I expected. The Geom was better in comparison to the Algebra. History of course – well, I cannot say. Miss Stapley said I was her ‘hope’ just before I went in. One question we have all done wrong: the Civil War of 1649 we all took to be the First Civil War, 1642–46. The Arithmetic was amazingly easy – too easy I think. I have yet to pass in Drawing and Botany, which I think I shall do.
Although it has been a very long week, this week has been by far the nicest. The free half-hour in the garden before the exams, swinging high up level with the gym windows and the wind in your hair, the scent and colour of the herbaceous border, the thrill of being a candidate – the privileges and prestige! It is all over now and the days will never be the same.
Tuesday, 28 June
I had thought there was no heart left in me and I had killed that wayward passion for Miss Wilmott long ago. But tonight as I came in late from the garden at 8.45 she came in through the doors into the Back Hall. There was no one there but she and I and I was in a hurry, but as I dashed around the corner of the stairs I said ‘goodnight’ as she passed. The light was dim and the shadows long, but she turned her head and I think she may have smiled as she said ‘Goodnight Jean’ in the way she used to do two years ago. I knew in that moment I could have died for her and that I shall never be able to forget. ‘Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.’9 I believe that she may grow to care more than I have ever cared to hope. What can I do? She lives in a world of games and speed and swift thought – hard practical ideas – and straight, slim eager girls who love to do difficult and complicated things on ropes and bars and things and who scorn such lazy ones as I. She said, ‘So long as you try I will help you – I will help you for ever if only you’ll try.’
Monday, 25 July
It has come, that dreamed-of long-dreaded hour when I sit alone for the last time in my room at PHC.10 Miss Parker has made me an Old Girl. I shall be able to come back next term and see those who are not leaving. I cannot believe that it is all over. I have not been able to see or speak to A.W. But at least I can write.
Wednesday, 27 July
And now I am home again. It is half-past six in the morning and I am going to get up soon and make the tea. It is raining.
3.
Such a Long Way Down
Saturday, 13 August 1927
I just loathe Ethel when she begins making subtle remarks about my future prospects. I hate it. I don’t want to get married. She thinks she’ll get all the sugar when I’ve chosen a husband. She shan’t. I shall run away – anywhere. She shall have nothing to do with my babies if I ever have any. Mother had all the hard work, and Ethel will get all the ‘juicy bits’ of being a grandmother. There’ll be a bust-up one of these days, such a bust-up. They are both on the landing and Daddy tried the door just now. I am doing ‘very private work’.
Sunday, 14 August
I think I must tell you about my farewell to A.W. For the very last few days of term Miss Hawkes had been taking roll-call, but on Tuesday morning (the last day) she went with the Irish mail. I made a rapid calculation that it was 10–1 A.W. might be taking her place. When the 7.40 bell went I prayed it might be so I went to investigate. And she was there, standing just outside the Big Hall watching us drift downstairs. It was my one and only chance and I grabbed it.
‘You’ll be going directly after breakfast, won’t you Miss Wilmott,’ I said. ‘Well I don’t expect I shall see you so I’ll say goodbye now.’ She shook hands with me. There was a wonderful light in her eyes and she smiled and said goodbye and then waited … I believe she knew I might say something else. Then it was like plunging into a cold bath or stepping into the sea. ‘Miss W.,’ I went on, turning puce, ‘I’m awfully sorry I haven’t been able to get to know you better here.’ We moved a little aside out of the way of people coming downstairs. ‘Well Jean,’ she said softly, ‘there hasn’t been much time has there?’ ‘And,’ I hesitated, pulling at the banister with nervous fingers. ‘Yes?’ she said kindly. ‘I may go on writing to you, mayn’t I?’ ‘Oh yes, rather!’ she laughed. We moved towards the door, ‘Yes Jean, do write. I shall be pleased to hear …’ Then somehow it was all over. It was wonderful. I am so glad I did it. My school career ended gloriously.
I did just about what I expected in the exams. I failed in Maths, passed in History, Arithmetic, French. I only got a credit for Botany and passed in Drawing. And I got credit in English.
Sunday, 21 August
Ethel and I have talked together about the bigger things. But I cannot say what I feel, what I know. I was surprised to find out how very simple was her nature, how little she seemed to know of life. God has given me a far-seeing vision and a certain amount of understanding – I have an imagination. It is my most precious possession. And it is what Ethel lacks. Her hard practical character is redeemed by a very deep and broad sense of humour which enables her to see things from a wide point of view, but she hasn’t yet learnt to dream by day. I don’t think she ever will. She is inclined to laugh at all that I hold dear.
Tuesday, 23 August
This morning I took Daddy in Pipsqueak over to Acton and we went to Eastman’s [garage]. I came back by myself and all was going swimmingly until I tried to get into the garage. For the second time I nearly knocked down the gatepost, only it was the other one this time and the gate is unhinged. What will Daddy say? These sort of things just crush the spirit out of you. I wanted to creep away somewhere like an ashamed dog and howl. Why can’t I steer straight?11
There’s no getting away from it – it is my eyes. I must see Mr Roberts this week. I called in on Harris’s on the way back about the valves and the reverse gear, the latter being mighty difficult to engage. Of course when he did it it went beautifully and he only laughed.
Sunday, 11 September
I went to Mr Roberts and I have over-strained my eyes. It was part of the price of the Schools Cert. In consequence I am not able to do any of the things I like best, i.e. reading, writing and driving. Also sewing. I shall probably be going to a specialist in the future. I don’t think I had better write any more now.
