My Dear Bessie (19 page)

You are a little, I think, unduly anxious about my possible conduct away from you. In the desert there was no temptation and the chaps behaved well. Here, the married men vie with the single men in their enthusiasm for the new life. I can assure you that I have nothing but contempt for those who break pledges, either to their wives or their sweethearts. You are my sweetheart, I am pledged to you. I love you. There is no need for you to worry further. Probably I spend too much time contemplating you, but it is always you that I do contemplate. It is your warm beauty that I want to lie upon, to rub against; between your legs that I want to come. I want to touch you between your legs, I want to feel your hands upon my privates.

Tomorrow it will be lovely, for I will be with you.

I want you. I love you.

Chris

11 December 1944

My Dearest Angel,

The shame in my heart for the burning of those letters is burning a hundredfold, I have been in such a state over what is happening in Greece that I had been too worried to dwell upon that. But it has come back in a rush, your words ‘I will love you though you never believe I love you', ‘I will love you whatever blows you deal me'. Oh gosh! That got me badly, very badly, went much deeper than any censure. Wretched creature that I am, may I try to explain just a little what causes me to hurt you so senselessly, not consciously Chris, no no, not consciously, only the usual fashion of the bull in the china shop with the inside of a fawn.

Dearest Christopher, it is not easy to surrender myself so completely as I am doing, at my age, a much more tender age to be in love than at 20. What I feel for you, Dear One, is love, this is not settling down, getting married, and having children, it's something so much more, so much bigger. You have caused an upheaval within, an upheaval that contains so much sweetness, ecstasy and pain, something that I didn't think I was going to
know, something that I thought did not exist because I had not known it. It is new to me, you are new to me, I trust myself to you so gingerly, a little afraid of, not you Christopher, but of the unforeseeable. So that I am on the defensive, I let everything go with a rush and then put up a guard to ward off – goodness knows what. I guess it's the uncertainty of life in London that enhances it, I want to rest with you in peace, but you are so far away.

I just have not known anyone like you before, or perhaps it is no one before has made me want to give so badly, give so badly, so that the giving makes me feel afraid. Darling this is all so hopelessly womanish, I really don't know whether you can understand the paradox. I do understand your need, because it is my own, but can't you see how tremulous, how inadequate it makes me feel, because the opposite feelings go together, one doesn't exist without the other. It's like touching the stars and touching rock bottom. Darling, understand what after all I do not understand myself.

Rockets? Yes it could be, but it goes much deeper than that. The misery inside me through having to live without your presence, the misery inside me through the spectacle of the world engaged in destroying one another for five years. I suppose it's linked up with the rockets, but one doesn't think much about them until they drop, they don't occupy much of one's thoughts and imagination, not like the pangs of the world. You and Greece are hopelessly mixed up in my mind, torn all ways. I want the fighting to stop because of you, and yet I wish they could win.

I received the green envelope with the photo, and felt very touched by both your letter and the message on the back of the
picture. You Darling man with the Dear bald head. You know it isn't quite bald yet Ducks, give it time, it will probably last ages like that, afterwards you can train one hair across the top. I'll look after it and encourage it, and you need never be quite bald.

Will be very glad to have a closer snap of you, always needing to look at you! Would be glad to see photos of the places you've seen also.

I shall keep the returned hanky as a hope of the future, our union, our union Christopher, it's a gasping thought isn't it.

Goodnight Darling.

I Love You.

Bessie

12 December 1944

Dearest,

I am particularly happy to get your letters just now, and I hope they'll come along in double quick time. You mention that you have the ‘jitters' about the situation here. I wish I was as free as you are to comment. You'll understand that I am not. But do not worry about me in the slightest. I am quite alright, and sad though it may seem, finding things very interesting.

I may be very wrong, but I do believe that blazing lights and chocolate, ad lib, feature in most people's post-war imaginations. We should have something more than éclairs, but we should have éclairs, as well. We should enjoy the lights, too. You, more than me, because I have had lights (of Durban, Cairo, Alexandria, Naples, Athens, and many more) for two years. I cannot visualise meeting you when I return and not immediately living with you.

Everything here is very safe, and please don't think I am in any danger.

I hope that the rockets are not worrying you too much. In the hope that you will get this before Christmas, I will say I trust the weather will be as you want it, and that you have a nice time. Soon we shall have a Christmas together – all our days together. It is a grand thought to have. And wonderfully we share it.

I love you.

Chris

14 December 1944

Darling,

Oh Christopher. My dear sweet man, I feel so wretched at having hurt you so, feel all the pain of those unwritten words. You didn't have to write them Chris, I can feel them. I too have thought
a great deal on ‘why did I do it', honestly searching myself for the reason for that impulsive action. I have really trusted you so much, committed myself on paper to a point of outrage, in a way that isn't too easy, but you called to the depths of me and I had to answer, I just had to give you all I could in the only way possible, and I did it because all of me responded to you with a force that I wasn't aware of possessing. That is why I keep telling you of the newness, the wonder of this our meeting, our coming together. You are as precious to me as life itself, for it goes on and on. You move me now as in the beginning, in some ways more, because somehow it seems to have developed, somehow more solid or something, I don't quite know what, but I feel it.

This has taken such a long time to write, and yet somehow doesn't say what it should. I long for the words of the poets, for they don't keep repeating themselves. I feel under the stress of all this, I ought to be as creative as the poets, and put it all in such a new way, to convince you that there is no need for you to feel unhappy about my doubts anymore, not anymore, Christopher, my so precious Lord. Immediate evidence to hand, I did think of the returned handkerchief in the same symbolic way as you, angel, didn't I? I will hold it, keep it, crush it, and wish you could be as close, wish that I need only feel affectionate and could stretch out my hand to you and you would answer with your caresses over my asking body, wish that you could flood me with your warmth. Oh for the time when I might awaken during the night, hear you breathing beside me, feel the warmth from your body, and snuggle down in sheer happiness and comfort in the knowledge of your presence. Oh delight of tomorrow, when will you come?

The elastic-hum, what do you mean??? says she, coyly. If you were home I'd welcome it, yes I very much suspect I would, before and after wedded bliss, seems to me it would have wear and tear. (I hope.) It's beautifully strong elastic, should stand up to it well, perhaps we should hoard a supply.

My cooking activities will have to remain rare owing to circumstances. Dad has his dinner midday from Mrs Baker which absorbs our meat ration. Cake making is rare because we drink our sugar ration, even the cooking of snacks isn't very often because Dad is a bad shopper, and I can't shop often enough to catch the odds and ends that are to be had on occasions. My diet is a most uninteresting repetition, so that I have become disinterested. I had thought of buying a cookery book, but hadn't bothered because they are all war time recipes. I hadn't thought of a second-hand one, though I suspect with the book shortage, second-hand books have done a roaring trade, though maybe second-hand cookery books may not have been touched. I'll have a look round Charing Cross Rd at the first opportunity. Oh dear I would like to start putting us on the map, to start building our home. I want time, lighting, and no rockets. Perhaps in the spring, I wonder?

This you and I is breathtakingly wonderful, I can rest content in the future prospect. Oh so much more than content, but dash it all Chris, can you really expect happiness in me now? You are my horizon, that wonderful faraway horizon – I cannot be content, I cannot rest easy whilst it is like this. I strain at the leash towards the future, our future, I want you, I want you, I want you, now, now, now. You can tell me to be happy, to be content, to stop going up and down, but I cannot help it, you fill my imagination, but
I want you here, in my arms, the flesh and blood. You are right it is bad, bad, bad to be away from each other. I don't want to differ, I want to bend with you, see things your way, my way is so uncertain. This brings me to Orson Welles, was
Citizen Kane
just a flash in the pan? Time will tell with his next efforts for his
Journey into Fear
was not mad, it was just plain silly, kids' stuff, it made me laugh, and it wasn't meant to. Anyway perhaps we can see his next effort together, and I can change my mind or agree to differ. See things together!!!!

Don't get any stockings, please Chris, you'll probably take awful colours, the wrong size, and probably be swindled as well. If you feel anxious to get me something try hair grips, kirby grips if possible, you know the short metal grips girls use nowadays instead of slides, also a comb would be useful, very hard to get at the moment. Prices here are haywire, fantastic. Will prices remain in this haphazard state? I think not, for it is always shortage that causes it. When things are being manufactured again prices are bound to drop, it is foolish to buy now. As for the stockings, if I get in a really embarrassed state over them, I shall ask you, don't worry I shall ask. I am still in a repairable condition, which I think will last till the summer, anyway we get some more coupons in February and we have high hopes of them being more than previous years. After all this I see you want me to think up a list, hum, well it just isn't worth it, unless it's cheap.

Wish these rockets would pack up. I hope the information of your safety is true. Shall feel much happier if an agreement can be reached.

I Love You.

Bessie