‘It’s marvellous,’ he said again. ‘Absolutely bloody marvellous. Maybe this time, we’ll have a girl. Not that I mind which, of course,’ he added hastily.
Yes, a little girl with blonde curls and green eyes, Diana thought, wincing at this rather clear vision; but then she forced it out of her head again. She would just have to find some blonde relative in her family whose genes had suddenly surfaced. Meanwhile, she must take the happiness on offer and make the very most of it. This new little person would have to work hard, to console her from what she would be missing: no modelling for a year at least, no trips to London, no Paris. As the strain of the day added to her general distress, she started to cry. She excused herself, saying she was overemotional – it was her hormones, and if Johnathan didn’t mind she was going to have a little rest; then she went up to her bedroom and wept for hours.
Chapter 28
1951
It really was rather awful being pregnant. Once the first rapture was over, Alice continued to be sick every day, and to feel exhausted and bone weary all the time. She felt ashamed and inadequate, having been assured by Tom from day one that she was about to feel better and more energetic than she ever had in her entire life – clearly Laura had bloomed like some prize rose bush – and managed somehow, by the time he came home, to appear smiling and healthy, to pretend she was enjoying the meal she had cooked, although it made her feel desperately sick, and to show great interest and enthusiasm for any news he had.
The election was called for October, partly as a result of the King’s poor health. He had had a lung removed and was an extremely sick man; he was about to embark on a trip to the Commonwealth, and he feared for the effect on the country of an election in his absence, and wanted matters settled before he left.
The Conservatives, with their slogan of ‘Britain Strong and Free’, and many new fresh faces, were able to present youth and promise.
Tom worked very hard during those few months, assisting the local MP any way he could, not merely with the promised envelope stuffing and poster deliveries, but preparing halls for meetings, sweeping floors, setting out chairs, and more than once manning the great tea urns, so integral a part of parish and political life. He did a great deal on election day of that process known as ‘knocking up’ – knocking on doors as it drew towards evening and trying to ensure the people behind had voted. He attended the count, but as morning broke, the Conservatives had won by a majority of seventeen. The Old Bulldog was still in power.
‘I’m sorry but I do want to have this baby in Welbeck Street, under Sir Harold’s care.’ Diana looked at Johnathan across the supper table. ‘I know that didn’t quite work out last time, but I still feel I was incredibly lucky then and Sir Harold makes me feel safe.’
She had expected Johnathan to protest, but he was so happy these days about the baby that he simply smiled at her and said, ‘Of course. I completely understand. And this time, hopefully, I’ll be able to be there. Not actually at your side, of course, but very near at hand –’
‘Oh, Johnathan, you’re so sweet,’ said Diana, ‘and thank you. But there really isn’t any need.’
The image of herself holding the newly born blonde green-eyed baby, desperately claiming a blonde green-eyed great-great-grandmother while Johnathan’s joy turned to suspicion, swam into her head.
‘Darling, this new little one is more important than anything on the farm. Now make the arrangements as soon as possible. Have you told your mother yet? I presume you’ll be staying with her?’
‘Yes, of course, and she’s thrilled. I will be staying with her.’ The very thought of being with her family, near London and her friends, made her feel quite dizzy with happiness. ‘Johnathan, you’re an angel. And thank you.’
‘Nothing to thank me for, I just want you to feel as safe and happy as you can. Now I’d quite like an early night, if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course. I think I’ll listen to the wireless for a bit. There’s a marvellous serialisation of one of Angela Thirkell’s novels, being read by Dulcie Gray.’
He came over and gave her a kiss on her forehead and went out. Their marriage had taken a turn for the better altogether lately; well, that was worth a great deal, she thought. Please please, dear God, I know I don’t deserve it, but let this baby have dark hair, eyes immaterial. I can handle that. She knew He must be extremely busy, but she felt sure God would give her wishes in the matter prime consideration. She touched every piece of wood within reach in case He didn’t, and then chided herself for being ridiculous.
‘Tom? Donald Herbert. Look, I want to talk through a few things with you. I might even have some news. You free this evening?’
‘I could be.’
‘Right. Savoy at six OK with you?’
‘Well, if it’s all right with Robert, my leaving the office early yet again?’
‘Don’t you worry about Robert. The American Bar.’
Tom put the phone down, feeling discomfited. He never failed to be shocked by Herbert’s choice of dining and watering holes. Still, it would be interesting to watch capitalism at its most bloated. He wondered idly if he was dressed smartly enough for the Savoy and then thought if they turned him away it would be a strong message that he had been invited to the wrong place.
They didn’t turn him away and Donald, wearing a dinner jacket, was seated at a small round table, being hovered over by a waiter. He waved at Tom as he came down the steps into the bar.
‘Hello. I was just debating getting a bottle of bubbly, but we’ll never get through it in time. I’m taking Christine to the theatre. That being so, what’s your poison?’
Tom was deeply tempted, but didn’t quite dare, to say a pint of bitter. ‘Gin and tonic, please.’
‘Good man. Make that two,’ Donald said to the waiter. ‘Doubles. And some of your excellent brazils and those salted almonds, if you’d be so kind.’
The waiter half bowed – God, this was disgusting, Tom thought – and backed away from them. Tom studied the clientele: men in dark suits, some in dinner jackets like Herbert, the women in full-skirted dresses, a couple of them in what were very much evening coats, again mostly made of taffeta with large collars that were almost an extension of the elaborate necklaces they wore.