5.2: Parents and siblings; maggots in the ripening fruit

The general picture at Job's Mill was of family feeling successfully rekindled, although the unity was under the constant threat of disruption from sibling rivalry. That is the scene which I now wish to examine, starting with a picture of the life-style which Henry was nudging me to adopt - although to some extent this was merely to save himself from the chore of having such duties upon his own shoulders. An example of this was his wish for me to take over from him as the Patron of the Lord Weymouth School.

I had already been to one performance of a school play, and towards the end of March I went to another. This time it was of Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor, which was equally well produced as the previous Rattigan play. And just as on that occasion, I had been led backstage when the performance came to an end, for me to say some words of encouragement to the young actors. And as before, I found this acutely embarrassing because I knew how I didn't hold the respect of these schoolboys. The hefty Head-boy (called Burgess) was good in the role of Falstaff, but he was loutish and his disregard weighed heavily on me; and when it came to offering my praise to the pretty young boy who was playing Mistress Quigley, I felt as if my own sexual orientation were being thrown open to question in having to tell him how well he played the part of a woman. I didn't feel ready (and old enough) to take over the role of Patron, although I accepted the idea because it was all part of the way that Henry was arranging matters.

Then I describe in my journal of 6th April 1955 how he took the opportunity of a meeting of the school board, officially to raise the subject of me taking over from him.

On Friday Dad had arranged that I should attend a meeting of the school board so that he could hand it over to me. He knew perfectly well that this was not strictly permitted within the school's charter. But he was using the argument that since it's called the Lord Weymouth School, it would be more appropriate if a Lord Weymouth was Patron, instead of a Lord Bath. So after announcing the change, he lent back in his chair with an expression of satisfaction on his face.

But the Headmaster promptly objected. He said that ever since the school was founded, there has been a tradition of the school's Patron being the head of the family. Dad hadn't been expecting this, and was taken aback at finding he wasn't going to be allowed to relinquish his post. But he insisted on the right to leave all the official business of the school in my hands, whether or not as a matter of delegating his own office. He will remain just as a figurehead. So it looks as if I shall have all the dirty work to perform, with none of the prestige! But I daresay it will assist me to gain some essential experience in such matters.

Then after the meeting, the Headmaster had asked him to say some official words of thanks to someone who has just presented to the school two Gainsborough portraits of a former Headmaster and his wife - the man himself being a descendant of that Headmaster. Well they're claimed to be by Gainsborough, but they strike me personally as being of a lesser quality - school of Gainsborough perhaps - although it wasn't for me to vouch any opinion on that subject. But when Dad stood up to make his little speech, he proclaimed that we should all be delighted that the two paintings are finally being restored "to their rightful ownership". The family of the donor were all assembled to receive Dad's address of thanks, and their expressions now turned very sour.

When Dad resumed his seat, I did make an attempt to get it over to him that he had said the wrong thing, and ought perhaps to make a joke of his error so as to soothe their ruffled feelings. I'm not sure if he quite grasped what I meant. All he said was: "Don't worry, it's all right - they like it!" It's most fortunate that Dad makes the worst of his pronouncements when the press are not present to record them!

There is also a mention in my journal of 19th April 1955 of me going over to Cheddar (with Algar), to preside over a committee meeting for the local pottery works, which furnished our shop with the majority of its souvenirs. These were small matters in the routine of the estate's organization, which my father was gradually edging into my hands.

There was another area too, where it was being planned for me to step into Henry's shoes, in that I was appointed (or elected?) to sit on the Horningsham Village Council. But in point of fact he had never himself filled that particular office - because in his father's day, the relationship between family and village was more direct, if less intimate. There was no need for the eldest son to be represented upon the Village Council. But in the current situation, most people in the village didn't know me. So Henry had encouraged me to accept the invitation to sit on the Council. The situation was difficult for me however, as my journal reveals.

There was a meeting in the Village Hall to discuss the arrangements for this year's Flower Show. Quite a large number of people had surprisingly turned up for it - which should have warned me that there were schemes afoot. What I didn't realize was that they were there to witness the spectacle of how I might react to a challenge (publicly delivered) to participate within an exhibition boxing bout. And I was damned if I was going to let myself be trapped into any such event.

What happened precisely was this. Wheeler was saying how we needed to put on some spectacular sporting event to draw in the crowds - so he asked us for suggestions concerning what we might do. Already I had perceived the danger of mentioning boxing, so I left that sport well alone. But Wheeler raised it, saying that he'd heard I had quite a reputation in that field. I smiled self-deprecatingly. But they had someone in the audience to take up the suggestion which I hadn't made. This was Ridout - one of the foresters whom Dad sometimes has taken down to Cornwall to assist him with the gardening that needed doing. And I believe he is the man with a reputation for curing warts. Anyway Dad has much faith in him for what he regards as his powers of healing. Well Ridout threw me down a challenge in front of all this crowd of villagers, saying that he wouldn't mind having a couple of rounds with me. There was a hush while everyone waited to see if they had ensnared me. But I just smiled without giving them an answer. And eventually they had to move on to the examination of other sports.

I find it monstrous that they should have tried out such a ploy on me. Of course it looks bad for me to be declining such a challenge (by my silence), but they had no right to be issuing it. I took the decision not to box at Oxford because I am far too highly strung, and I don't want to lose any more sleep when having to prepare for such contests. I don't have the right temperament for these things. And if the Village Council is going to subject me to embarrassing pressure of this kind, then I should keep my distance from them. I have enough problems of my own, without taking on the role of village buffoon.

In other matters I did my best to offer helpful suggestions - like the use of the Wiltshire Yeomanry band, which I shall try to arrange for them. But the truth of the matter is that I don't feel I am taking on a role to which I am suited, in all this Village Council business. I don't actually see problems from the village point of view. And there was an example of my lack of accord with their thinking when a vote was required with regard to the repair and upkeep of the swings (and other such items) upon the children's playground behind the hall. Mine was the only hand which went up in support of these things being maintained. Everyone else regarded the cost as excessive, and they probably knew (which I didn't) just how little they were used. Wheeler gave an embarrassed laugh and declared that perhaps the rest of them were rather more sensitive than myself about the cost of the damages, if we were to get sued by some parent after a child had been hurt. So it was carried (unanimously apart from my own dissenting vote) that the playthings should be removed. It made me feel that I simply don't belong on this Council.

There may have been a general concern about the way in which I was to be trained for the life (as they saw it) which was ahead of me. My whole family shared this worry. Daphne was to inform me later that one of her principal worries at the time of the divorce was about the possible consequences to myself. She had known from the inside how potentially isolated I might find myself. She had always been the one to champion my cause when I'd been at loggerheads with Henry, and she had felt guilty about abandoning me to me own devices when extricating herself from the family scene.

But there were others who would have gladly filled her role if I had permitted them. Virginia was impeded I daresay, by the need to display solidarity with Henry. But all three of Henry's sisters were in rivalry with one another to make me feel that each particular one was the right person to whom I should turn for maternal solace - particularly my Aunts Kate and Emma perhaps. I refer to one such instance in my journal of 27th March 1955.

On Thursday evening I went to dinner with the Aunts at the Curatage, and for lunch the following day at West Woodlands. They were constantly bickering, and turning to me as the source of appeal - on subjects like the best way to bring up children.

It was really an appeal from each of them to start baring my soul on the problems I had endured throughout my upbringing, for they liked nothing better than to air their own grievances as elder sisters, over what they regarded as a younger brother's irresponsible behaviour. And I reciprocated with affection. But I was my own person far more perhaps than any of them appreciated. I somehow knew that I needed to find my own road to a more strictly personal salvation.

In point of fact I was getting on reasonably well with Henry over this period. And there were many indications of a happy home life in evidence at Job's Mill, as the excerpt from my journal of 10th April 1955 indicates.

Saturday was a big day for celebrations - Virginia's birthday, and Christopher's 21st. I think that Dad must be very much in love with Virginia, and it would appear to be a most successful marriage.

If one is going to have a stepmother, then I must admit that Virginia makes a very good one. At the same time, I am able to see things from Mum's point of view. And I know how she feels bitterly about the role Virginia played during the period leading up to them all taking a decision to divorce. I don't think I have mentioned how Mum has torn out all photographs which included Virginia from the family album, while leaving her name written underneath them so that everyone knows precisely what she has done. As she sees it, Virginia made a conscious decision to get Dad when he still wasn't really available. Or it's Mum's feeling that their marriage might have survived, if it hadn't been for her seduction of Dad. She sees Virginia as a human mole who burrows for what she wants, regardless of the family havoc she might cause - twice over as it so happens, in that she also broke David Tennant's marriage to Hermione Badley. And the burrowing had been done surreptitiously, under Mum's very nose, on the occasions when the Tennants had been over to dinner at Sturford as her guests. She doesn't forgive Virginia for any of that, and the bitterness may endure.

I have seen how flirtatiously Virginia can behave, so I do appreciate's Mum's point of view. But having said that, I must hastily add that the family havoc, in our case, is turning out to be quite pleasant. And it's warming to perceive Dad so much in love. He loaded her with presents, and seemed to be enjoying the general flurry of affection quite as much as herself.

In the evening we celebrated Christopher's 21st birthday, and he too was given a wonderful array of presents. More numerous than I myself had been given, but on the other hand there was nothing so big as that cheque I received towards the purchase of a car. So I daresay we broke about even on that issue. I think he liked the trumpet I gave him. At all events he has spent most of his time since then endeavouring (without much success) to get a tuneful note out of it.

Today Sunday was Easter, so the celebrations continued. And once again these were proper family celebrations, such as I haven't seen since the days of my early childhood. There can be no doubt that Virginia is more family-minded than Mum. I enjoyed watching Georgia and Biblet scrambling round in the garden to find their Easter eggs. And it made me regret that this manner of celebration had lapsed so early in our own lives - as if Dad and Mum weren't particularly interested to conjure up any serendipity for their children. But things are different now.

Maybe the bonding between Virginia and her children is too cloying. Maybe that is something which will create problems for them later in life - whereas our own upbringing has better suited us for taking an independent stance in life. Who knows? I can but observe what becomes of us in the years to come.

It is interesting to observe how fast Georgia is growing up. She is now quite aware of both fashion and of men. I sometimes get the feeling that she has a bit of a crush on me. But I'm not sure of this. At other times I think it's for Christopher, far more than for myself. It switches from one to the other, I think. But I think that Dad and Virginia take note of it on occasions, and I suddenly find myself smitten with embarrassment and blushing crimson. And this is terrible, for the blushing would make it seem that my behaviour is in some way guilty, and thus blame-worthy. Maybe they think that I am making advances to such a young girl? But I do of course find Georgia's attentiveness to be flattering. And perhaps I could use such influence over her to placate her constant tendency to be squabbling with Biblet over such an array of childish issues.

Despite the fact of Valentine being present on all such occasions, there is a curious lack of reference to him within my journal over this period. The fact of the matter is that, whilst amicable together, there were no activities which encouraged any special interaction between us. And it was still towards Christopher that he looked for fraternal companionship. I was somehow omitted from his personal development - not that this bothered us in any way at all.

There had for some time been the problem in my relationship with Caroline, that I was aware how David had little patience for me. But this was becoming more embarrassing as time progressed, in that he did so little to conceal his disregard for me. In my journal of 25th May 1955, I am becoming aware that Caroline might share David's inclination to discourage me from coming to stay.

I had to take a room for Thursday night at the Cavendish Hotel, since Caroline told me that her house is full. It may be, but on the other hand she may well be getting fed up with my visits!

In my journal of 9th June 1955, I describe how I am staying once again at Caroline's house, but without feeling truly welcome.

I do realize that I have exceeded my welcome at their house. The slight strain between Caroline and myself is quite bearable, but the irritation which shows upon David's face, as soon as I appear, is enormous. So the general effect is that I behave ill-at-ease, and find myself unable to converse with them. I cannot bring myself to like David. I think there is more nastiness in his personality than niceness. And he doesn't treat Caroline well either. So I feel sorry for her.

There's one way in which I find that David is being indirectly offensive to myself as well, in that he is training Harry (as I suspect) to hold me in disregard. The way Harry turns away when I try to play with him, or even the expression on his face when I enter, can only be explained if some adult is feeding him with an ill opinion of me. I'm imagining that David prepares the ground for my arrival by speaking to Harry something in the following vein.

"Uncle Alexander is coming today. Isn't Uncle Alexander a bore? He's always coming here to stay.... Don't you think Uncle A is stupid? He is such a little boy. You are much more grown up than Uncle A.... You ought to tell Uncle A to go home to college, where he belongs. He's just a college boy...."

I know that Harry would take a liking to me if he were given half a chance - because I'm good with children. As it is I'm made painfully aware that he is being trained to have a low opinion of me. The result is that I may have to cease my visits to Caroline's household. Familiarity is breeding contempt. And I'm sufficiently sensitive to wish to avoid it.

With Christopher, there was this short period around Easter when a potential harmony was on the verge of emerging. I had been irritated at the way he had evidently been flirting with [Y] when I was not around, but I was able to feel for a short while that he had absorbed the message that I was trying to communicate to him, about no fraternal poaching of girlfriends. And whilst we were out in Luggala together, there had been a real solidarity of feeling between the two of us, brought about by our mutual antipathy for Michael Deakin.

This entente reached its peak at the Gages' cocktail party, up in London, part of which I have previously described. (Frances S had been there briefly, but soon departed.) The end of the party is described in my entry of 25th May 1955.

After Frances had departed I became rather drunk, although I was soon reaching what I regard as peak form. Christopher was in good form too and, as a result, we both made quite a lot of noise between the two of us. Amongst other things, I managed to pour a glass of champagne down Elizabeth Heald's dress, and Chris managed to stab his own hand quite badly on broken glass. In the end, after all the other guests had departed, our hosts had to frog-march us out of the door. But on the way back to Oxford I began to pay for my sins, in that I was sick three times!

I had glimpsed just momentarily how the two of us were capable of setting ourselves up as quite some duo upon the social scene, with many a potential cabaret yet to be worked out between the two of us. But that was a scene which never transpired, because the sibling rivalry immediately reopened upon a scale more vicious than before.

Although I might still today criticize Christopher for the readiness he displayed to display himself as a sexual rival to the girls whom I regarded as my special girlfriends, I feel that the fault must lie in part with Henry for not instilling the family with values of a different kind. There was in effect a complete lack of moral guidance. Quite apart from responding to a flirtation which was on offer, I have little doubt that Chris felt that he was proving himself, in Henry's eyes, as the son who really had the sex appeal. It would have been within Henry's power to dissuade him from such behaviour if he himself had regarded it as reprehensible. But he didn't. He regarded it far more as a question of the younger son's natural talent receiving its due reward.

My own reaction to this situation was at fault for an entirely different reason, in that I was becoming increasingly pompous in my indignation concerning his behaviour. There are in fact too many times when I find references to Christopher which are couched in absurdly vindictive terms - for example, in my journal entry of 26th June 1955, after learning that [Y] is still goading my jealousy with hints that Christopher has been seeing her.

God I think he's a little shit even attempting to get into her circle of friends. He deserves to get his fingers stamped on brutally one of these days. And I shall think it exceedingly funny when he does.

And my willingness to take him on within the same rules of play, seeking to win the affections of [N] (in whom he was already displaying a slight interest) hardly display me in any better light than himself. I wrote in terms of "serving him back some of his own medicine". And even if I never actually implemented such intentions, the thought had been there in my mind.

But my biggest error was in assisting Chris to set up this situation as an on-going cabaret for our mutual friends. It was becoming a talking point around London, which might be flattering for both [Y] and Christopher in what it implied, but was distinctly unsavoury for my own public image. And by displaying my irritation with him - all too frequently, when discussing his behaviour with others - I aroused their sense of merriment over denunciations which struck them as absurdly pompous. And by the time such comments were fed back to Christopher, it merely served to stimulate his sense of prowess in this sibling rivalry - which he then augmented for all to see and hear in terms of insolence and swagger. In effect, he was receiving as a gift from my own hand this magnificent notoriety as a girl-stealer, over which I remained indignant due to a misguided self-righteousness.

The truth of the matter is that I was looking forward greatly to his departure to the States, when he would start working for Sears Robuck. But he wasn't expected over there until the New Year.

I had written to Henry inviting him to the Bullingdon dinner at the end of the Trinity term, but he wrote to decline it, saying: "I don't think this is quite up my street, although I am very flattered to have been asked." What he was really telling me however, was that his experience of the Loder's Dinner last term had been less than inspiring. (Small wonder in that it had been something of a drunken debauch!) But he and Virginia were accepting to come as a guest to the dance in Teddy Hall's barn, when Virginia had rather too good a time, perhaps, while dancing with Jimmy Skinner - as recorded in my journal of 19th June 1955.

On Saturday Dad and Virginia came up for Teddy Hall's dance, and I gave a small dinner party for them beforehand. When we finally got there, Jimmy began making far too heavy a pass at Virginia - dancing with her drunkenly on the floor and necking with her quite openly. Quite frankly I began to fear that Dad might be offended by her behaviour. And I could see that Joy Gregory was also perturbed that her boyfriend should be carrying on like that with Virginia. When I suggested that she ought to intervene to break them up, she said she couldn't do that. So I came up with the idea that we ourselves ought to dance in their proximity, with her responding to my attentions far more obviously than would otherwise be her wont. She did too. And I was enjoying the role I had given myself. But none of this seemed to have the slightest effect upon Jimmy, who continued to dance with Virginia in smooching fashion. And it was finally Virginia herself who seemed to get the idea that they were making too much of an exhibition of themselves - so brought it to a halt by going home. And Jimmy was then reunited with Joy, without any rancour in evidence on either side.

Just as my own enjoyment of family life was much impaired by my relationship with Christopher, the problem for Henry and Virginia (and for Daphne too) was that a judge had ruled that they were all bigamously remarried - which made them all a bit sensitive about appearing anywhere in public. But this requires a few words of explanation.

As already indicated in a letter to me from Daphne, her first volume of autobiography (entitled Mercury Presides) had recently been published. This dealt with the story of her life up to the time of her divorce - and was published under the name of Daphne Fielding. But in telling the story of her marriage, she had revealed what had hitherto never been publicly proclaimed, that there had been a secret wedding before the date of the official wedding - so as to give them time to win their own parents' approval for the match. As soon as the book appeared, the family lawyers were quick to point out that there was now some danger that the divorce was invalidated, since it was the date of the official wedding that had been entered upon the divorce papers - which meant in effect that the secret wedding (which predated it) was still undissolved.

The lawyers expressed a hope that the matter could be resolved quickly by taking the petition back into court, so that a judge could pronounce that the decree of divorce might be extended from the second wedding to the first. But in the event, the judge decided otherwise. Or he ruled that, since a matter of law was concerned, the case must be heard in a higher court. So this was the stage at which people were beginning to conclude that both of the subsequent remarriages were officially regarded as bigamous. And it hit the press of course. Daphne commented on the situation in a letter to me from Cowrie, dated 25th April 1955.

I expect you saw in today's Daily Express about our divorce tangle. I wish that the bogey of bigamyland would all be settled soon, but it appears the the case has been presented at the wrong court - this made the judge very ratty - and it will have to go to the Court of Appeal, which will all take time.

Then in my journal of 25th May 1955, I comment on how sensitive Virginia had become to the accusation that she was bigamously married. I am writing about the weekend party which had collected at Job's Mill for the dance at Wilton.

I had been rather worried about Dad and Virginia over the weekend, since they are evidently much embarrassed by this recent publicity over the divorce. They declined to accompany us to Wilton, for fear that people would be sniggering at them. What is more they were continually sneaking off to bed, to leave us on our own - although on the final night they appeared to be enjoying themselves. Virginia did try to go off, but I managed to get her to return. But then came the difficulty of getting her to stay. Ian and John, who were the only available dancing partners for her, were far less saucy with her than either Jimmy or Peter, on the previous occasion when I brought a party of my Oxford friends over to Job's Mill. I kept on pushing them up to her, but they were unwilling to flirt. So they were constantly handing her back to me again. But as her stepson, I was hardly in a position to flirt with her. So it wasn't long before she went off upstairs again. And this time she didn't return.

Daphne returns to the same theme in her letter of June 11th, where she indicates that the law was beginning to take an interest in what they had done, before coming to any decision on whether anyone should be prosecuted.

I live in constant panic of the long arm of the law coming to grab me. However I agree with Dr Johnson that the law is an ass - and most particularly that old sourpuss Lord Merriman. The Scotland Yard chaps were terribly nice, and very embarrassed at having to question us. And one of them asked us for our autographs! We are going to forget our worries and go on a jaunt to France - staying with Diana Cooper at Chantilly, and then for a good guzzle in Paris before starvation at Enton Hall.

That is as far as they could currently get towards the unravelling of this legal problem, since they were all now waiting for the case to come up before the Court of Appeal. But the self-consciousness on the issue began to recede - as has already been shown by the excerpt which gave an account of Virginia's behaviour at Teddy Hall's dance.

Concerning other events in Daphne's life, which can be gleaned from her two letters, I shall quote these excerpts.

I have got two Irish colleens coming to take the place of Danny and Beryl. As one of them is only 20, there is bound to be "courting in the kitchen" with Nibs and all the randy fishermen singing to them....

The Irish girls who came as friends, had a bitter quarrel and did not speak to each other for a week - sitting with their backs turned on one another in the kitchen! I finally got them to make it up. Hope they won't cut each others' throats when they are left alone in the house. They are staying until September, and then Danny and Beryl are coming back to us in the winter, until their lodging-house season opens up again.

When I came back to Job's Mill for the Morrisons' dance at Fonthill, I recount in my journal of 7th July 1955 how Virginia appears to have been feeling guilty about her recent behaviour at Oxford.

When I first arrived home, I got the impression that Virginia was thoroughly ashamed of herself. She was distinctly embarrassed at meeting me. She seemed to think that I hadn't been home recently because of the way she had behaved with Jimmy S. But I put her mind to rest by saying that I was avoiding Job's Mill as much as possible, until after Chris has departed for America.

It would also seem that the entente between Henry and myself was beginning to wear a bit thin over this weekend, with the mutual irritation originating surprisingly over a sequence of chess games. I was in fact a better player than Henry, who knew very little about the game. But I was at a stage where I wanted to demonstrate my new intellectual abilities to him, so I was showing off by letting him take moves back when he blundered - without receiving (or expecting) similar lenience from himself.

Altogether we played three games. The first I resigned quickly after I'd made a careless move and lost my queen. The second game was long and we failed to conclude it, but I was winning on a points basis. Then in the third I got myself check-mated when in a winning position. Dad was delighted, and obviously felt that he had given me one in the eye. And of course he had!

The trouble with Dad is that he takes advantage of a victory like this to rub my nose in what he regards as my intellectual pretentiousness. The mention of whatever kind of opening we may be doing is, to him, an example of such pretentiousness. That kind of talk is for the experts, and the Thynne family do not rise to that calibre. (The Stanleys yes, but not the Thynnes!) And such wholesale pitching of my worth so low really gets at me. And he goes on about it, hoping to extract an admission that my pretensions are now deflated. When I next play him, I must be far more careful in my play. And I won't be letting him take back any of his moves.

On the journey back to Oxford on Sunday evening, I felt an enormous relief in getting right away from Job's Mill. And I think I now understand why it is that I feel so irritated whenever I'm under Dad's roof. It's because he offers me no manner of esteem for the things I am good at - chess, art, writing. He is merely looking for opportunities to tell me that I'm no better than himself - that I'm stuck at his own unintelligent level of existence for my entire lifetime. And I resent it.

I've got to shed myself of his influence over me. And the situation is gradually getting worse. He's out to impress on me at all times that I have a mistaken image of my own worth. I know that he does this from the admirable motivation of trying to save me from the humiliation of failure within my vaunted ambitions for life. But he doesn't seem to realize how his methods are just widening the gulf between us when I'm nearing the point that I'll have to break with him in order to preserve my sanity. I hope it doesn't come to this, but it always might!