effortless verbal superiority,there now remained within her the unshakeable confidence that he might be cocky, but he didn’t know everything. There were things, very personal things, that she knew about him,
and he didn’t know that she knew!
Similarly when Hope was sour and complaining, Phoebe now knew that she had been like that since 1951, if not before! It wasn’t a special attitude she reserved for Phoebe, it was her strategy for responding to life in general.
Phoebe saw Peter through Nancy’s eyes and took sides with him against Hope. She imagined him to have been even taller and more handsome then; crazy about Nancy, but trapped by honour in a dismal marriage. Nancy’s own marriage to Hugh Sedgemoor had taken place when she was 25, in 1946, Phoebe discovered. Hugh had had a bad war and emerged from it with low self-esteem and boundless obstinacy. He had wanted to write thrillers, so after a very short uncommitted search, he had given up looking for work altogether and had been supported from then on by Nancy, who had a good career at the university and a flat of her own in London. He had never got published. Nancy seemed to Phoebe to be, in turns, fond of and exasperated by him. She couldn’t decide which emotion had been the dominant one. It came across the pages as a rather uncomfortable and unsatisfactory marriage, similar to hers and Duncan’s.
Saturday, 8 September 1951 – Party at S.’s house. Hugh too ‘busy’ as usual. Went alone. Met an extraordinarily mismatched couple, Peter and Hope Moon. She looked like death for most of the evening, barely spoke to anyone and obviously hated every minute. He, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more charming. He has very intense blue eyes and a tremendous fund of funny stories. For some reason we seemed to hit it off at once. Felt rather guilty about his poor forlorn wife, but she made no effort whatsoever. I think I shall have to watch myself with P. Such men are dangerous! Hugh in a mood when I got home and didn’t respond to my feelings of optimism and elation. As usual he took all the wind out of my sails and left me feeling irritable and unfairly deflated, then guilty as always. I’m truly sorry that so far he’s failed to get published, hates hislack of ‘status’ and can’t bear to be quizzed about his ‘job’ at parties, but am I supposed to commit a sort of social suttee because of his hermit tendencies? To hell with that!
Poor Nancy, Phoebe thought, so full of life, so full of hope, but ultimately to die alone. She wondered what (if anything) Nancy would have done differently if she had been able to start again from 1951. That thought made Phoebe consider her own life. Would she have done things differently? Would she still have married Duncan, given the chance to do otherwise? It was too late for Nancy, but it wasn’t too late for her. There were always options. They closed down and got smaller and smaller as you got older and older, but Phoebe wasn’t even halfway through life yet. It was with that hopeful thought in mind, that she prepared to do battle with Christmas.
Chapter Seven
A twenty-two-pound turkey … Phoebe thought, going over her calculations again to make sure they were correct… at fifteen minutes a pound, equals five … and a half hours, plus a bit to be on the safe side, say six hours. Lunch for two o’clock, so turkey in at … eight, and the oven on to preheat at about half past seven. Right! She glanced around for a clock. There wasn’t one in Hope’s kitchen. There weren’t enough working surfaces in Hope’s kitchen either, and nothing was where it ought to be. There was no logic in the places where things were, so how could anyone be expected to perform to a high standard there? It was enough to drive a normal person mad, let alone a resentful daughter-in-law.
‘Duncan!’ Phoebe called. ‘Can I borrow your watch?’ No answer. Duncan
never
heard when she called, even if he was just at the end of
and he didn’t know that she knew!
Similarly when Hope was sour and complaining, Phoebe now knew that she had been like that since 1951, if not before! It wasn’t a special attitude she reserved for Phoebe, it was her strategy for responding to life in general.
Phoebe saw Peter through Nancy’s eyes and took sides with him against Hope. She imagined him to have been even taller and more handsome then; crazy about Nancy, but trapped by honour in a dismal marriage. Nancy’s own marriage to Hugh Sedgemoor had taken place when she was 25, in 1946, Phoebe discovered. Hugh had had a bad war and emerged from it with low self-esteem and boundless obstinacy. He had wanted to write thrillers, so after a very short uncommitted search, he had given up looking for work altogether and had been supported from then on by Nancy, who had a good career at the university and a flat of her own in London. He had never got published. Nancy seemed to Phoebe to be, in turns, fond of and exasperated by him. She couldn’t decide which emotion had been the dominant one. It came across the pages as a rather uncomfortable and unsatisfactory marriage, similar to hers and Duncan’s.
Saturday, 8 September 1951 – Party at S.’s house. Hugh too ‘busy’ as usual. Went alone. Met an extraordinarily mismatched couple, Peter and Hope Moon. She looked like death for most of the evening, barely spoke to anyone and obviously hated every minute. He, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more charming. He has very intense blue eyes and a tremendous fund of funny stories. For some reason we seemed to hit it off at once. Felt rather guilty about his poor forlorn wife, but she made no effort whatsoever. I think I shall have to watch myself with P. Such men are dangerous! Hugh in a mood when I got home and didn’t respond to my feelings of optimism and elation. As usual he took all the wind out of my sails and left me feeling irritable and unfairly deflated, then guilty as always. I’m truly sorry that so far he’s failed to get published, hates hislack of ‘status’ and can’t bear to be quizzed about his ‘job’ at parties, but am I supposed to commit a sort of social suttee because of his hermit tendencies? To hell with that!
Poor Nancy, Phoebe thought, so full of life, so full of hope, but ultimately to die alone. She wondered what (if anything) Nancy would have done differently if she had been able to start again from 1951. That thought made Phoebe consider her own life. Would she have done things differently? Would she still have married Duncan, given the chance to do otherwise? It was too late for Nancy, but it wasn’t too late for her. There were always options. They closed down and got smaller and smaller as you got older and older, but Phoebe wasn’t even halfway through life yet. It was with that hopeful thought in mind, that she prepared to do battle with Christmas.
Chapter Seven
A twenty-two-pound turkey … Phoebe thought, going over her calculations again to make sure they were correct… at fifteen minutes a pound, equals five … and a half hours, plus a bit to be on the safe side, say six hours. Lunch for two o’clock, so turkey in at … eight, and the oven on to preheat at about half past seven. Right! She glanced around for a clock. There wasn’t one in Hope’s kitchen. There weren’t enough working surfaces in Hope’s kitchen either, and nothing was where it ought to be. There was no logic in the places where things were, so how could anyone be expected to perform to a high standard there? It was enough to drive a normal person mad, let alone a resentful daughter-in-law.
‘Duncan!’ Phoebe called. ‘Can I borrow your watch?’ No answer. Duncan
never
heard when she called, even if he was just at the end of
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