at all her schools, whereas other mothers had been through hell.
I said, ‘Virginia, about my daughter – ’
But at that moment, the taxi stopped, I saw the dark towers, we were there.
26
GERDA
Gerda and the Furies,
Part the Third
Childe Gerda to the Dark Tower Came
(This is a quote I have borrowed from Byron, which is one of the Best Bits in English.)
So we’ve come to the part where Cindy and her sidekicks gave me the ‘Special Present’ at breakfast. And I was confused about what to do, as they seemed to expect me to open it at once, with everybody looking, but I felt embarrassed, and besides I wanted to save it till later when there wasn’t so much to be happy about.
I did feel happy that Saturday breakfast. It was just because they’d taken trouble. Someone had really thought about me, though Mum had vanished across the Atlantic and Dad was working at the North Pole (this isn’t a joke, he’s a climate scientist, quite famous actually, Edward Kaye).
You could see from the envelope that they’d taken trouble with my name, written in beautiful lettering, probably by Cindy, who is artistic, though the art teacher hasn’t noticed it. So I thought that what was inside could only get better, and I always save the best till last.
So I just got up and said ‘Thanks a lot, I’ll open it after morning lessons,’ and they looked disappointed, but that seemed normal.
But actually I couldn’t wait. Only Cindy was in my set for English and she stared at me through the whole lesson. I thought it was a look of adoration, and I kept on waving and smiling at her (I am a Dimwit. I AM A DIMWIT! WRITE THAT OUT FIVE THOUSAND TIMES).
But I’m not a Dimwit, remember. They are.
Because when I finally got to my room after lunch, I couldn’t bear to wait till bedtime, and besides I wanted to tell them I liked it, because that would make them happy too.
So I carefully tore the pretty envelope open, without damaging the lettering. I thought I would stick it on my cork-board, which hadn’t got enough things on it yet. Then other people would be curious and I would say ‘Oh my friends did it for me,’ and they would know that I had good friends.
I couldn’t take in what I saw at first.
Mummy, this is a Cliffehanger .
27
VIRGINIA
Loping in to Goldstein’s out of the brightness, I felt half at home for the first time since I had woken in this new world.
It was shady, and cool, and full of books, and the furniture, when I looked quickly, seemed familiar, dark and sober like my parents’ house, though soon I saw it was all artifice, smooth modern copies of teak or mahogany.
It didn’t feel like a bookshop to me. It called itself a ‘gallery’, with books displayed like jewelled objects. As if they were not to be used every day. Part of me liked that, part did not.
(At the Hogarth we made our books beautiful too. When we first started, we knew nothing about business, but we knew what we wanted;Vanessa designed all my dust jackets, & minded about each tiny detail. We came as near to a quarrel as we ever had since the smoothing away of childhood hatreds when she didn’t like the final version of
Kew Gardens
. An hour of torment as she talked to me with terrible calm reasonableness that was worse than any rage could have been.
After that, Leonard and I were even more careful. Our books were not
éditions de luxe
– we had a horror of Victorian ornateness, of gold-tooled curlicues and pompous typefaces – we wanted simple, beautiful things.
Nessa’s drawings were just a few strokes, almost childlike – nothing to the untrained eye – but those few strokes made something perfect: a bowl of flowers on an empty stage for
Jacob’s Room
, the novel that ends with emptiness – Nessa understood without being told. For
The Years
, that cursed bruteof a book that weighed on me like an overstuffed sofa (though Americans all went mad for it!) Nessa made something that ached with lost time, a pattern of repetitive,
I said, ‘Virginia, about my daughter – ’
But at that moment, the taxi stopped, I saw the dark towers, we were there.
26
GERDA
Gerda and the Furies,
Part the Third
Childe Gerda to the Dark Tower Came
(This is a quote I have borrowed from Byron, which is one of the Best Bits in English.)
So we’ve come to the part where Cindy and her sidekicks gave me the ‘Special Present’ at breakfast. And I was confused about what to do, as they seemed to expect me to open it at once, with everybody looking, but I felt embarrassed, and besides I wanted to save it till later when there wasn’t so much to be happy about.
I did feel happy that Saturday breakfast. It was just because they’d taken trouble. Someone had really thought about me, though Mum had vanished across the Atlantic and Dad was working at the North Pole (this isn’t a joke, he’s a climate scientist, quite famous actually, Edward Kaye).
You could see from the envelope that they’d taken trouble with my name, written in beautiful lettering, probably by Cindy, who is artistic, though the art teacher hasn’t noticed it. So I thought that what was inside could only get better, and I always save the best till last.
So I just got up and said ‘Thanks a lot, I’ll open it after morning lessons,’ and they looked disappointed, but that seemed normal.
But actually I couldn’t wait. Only Cindy was in my set for English and she stared at me through the whole lesson. I thought it was a look of adoration, and I kept on waving and smiling at her (I am a Dimwit. I AM A DIMWIT! WRITE THAT OUT FIVE THOUSAND TIMES).
But I’m not a Dimwit, remember. They are.
Because when I finally got to my room after lunch, I couldn’t bear to wait till bedtime, and besides I wanted to tell them I liked it, because that would make them happy too.
So I carefully tore the pretty envelope open, without damaging the lettering. I thought I would stick it on my cork-board, which hadn’t got enough things on it yet. Then other people would be curious and I would say ‘Oh my friends did it for me,’ and they would know that I had good friends.
I couldn’t take in what I saw at first.
Mummy, this is a Cliffehanger .
27
VIRGINIA
Loping in to Goldstein’s out of the brightness, I felt half at home for the first time since I had woken in this new world.
It was shady, and cool, and full of books, and the furniture, when I looked quickly, seemed familiar, dark and sober like my parents’ house, though soon I saw it was all artifice, smooth modern copies of teak or mahogany.
It didn’t feel like a bookshop to me. It called itself a ‘gallery’, with books displayed like jewelled objects. As if they were not to be used every day. Part of me liked that, part did not.
(At the Hogarth we made our books beautiful too. When we first started, we knew nothing about business, but we knew what we wanted;Vanessa designed all my dust jackets, & minded about each tiny detail. We came as near to a quarrel as we ever had since the smoothing away of childhood hatreds when she didn’t like the final version of
Kew Gardens
. An hour of torment as she talked to me with terrible calm reasonableness that was worse than any rage could have been.
After that, Leonard and I were even more careful. Our books were not
éditions de luxe
– we had a horror of Victorian ornateness, of gold-tooled curlicues and pompous typefaces – we wanted simple, beautiful things.
Nessa’s drawings were just a few strokes, almost childlike – nothing to the untrained eye – but those few strokes made something perfect: a bowl of flowers on an empty stage for
Jacob’s Room
, the novel that ends with emptiness – Nessa understood without being told. For
The Years
, that cursed bruteof a book that weighed on me like an overstuffed sofa (though Americans all went mad for it!) Nessa made something that ached with lost time, a pattern of repetitive,
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