The Angel in the Corner - Monica Dickens [76]
Jane Stuart was as enthusiastic as ever, and the vitality with which she attacked each new problem challenged Virginia’s store of nervous energy, and spurred her to a hectic activity, which carried her on wires through the day’s work, and left her unable to relax and recuperate at the end of it.
It was impossible to relax with Joe, in any case. When he worked on his book, which was more often than Virginia expected, his alternating author’s moods of exuberance and despair demanded a correspondingly exaggerated reaction from her. They lived at high pitch, arguing, laughing, making love. The bones of Virginia’s face grew more clearly defined, her eyes were more brilliant, her movements quicker, yet more controlled. She thought that at last she looked entirely grown up, with no dreamy trace of adolescence.
Adelaide Small sent for her. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, without beating about the bush.
‘Nothing,’ Virginia said in surprise. ‘Everything is wonderful.’
‘You’re too thin,’ Miss Small objected, although she herself was like a rail. ‘You didn’t look like that when I took over from your mother. Jane is working you too hard. However, I’m going to work you harder. Stick the beauty page for another two weeks, and you can come back to editorial. I feel like economizing. You can do two people’s work. No, don’t thank me. I’m not being nice; I need you there. Joan’s had a better offer from Fleet Street, and Sonia is leaving to get married. She’s got more sense than you. She’s not going to try and live two lives. It isn’t easy, I know. I’ve seen plenty of girls before you wear themselves out trying to run a home and a job.’
‘I’m not tired, Miss Small.’
‘Yes, you are. Don’t argue with me.’ She looked at Virginia as if she knew about the unmade bed and the untidy room and the dirty dishes in the sink, all waiting to be dealt with when Virginia came home from the office. As if she knew about having to run out again before the grocer in the King’s Road closed, because Joe had forgotten the things he had promised to buy. As if she knew about having to be gay and lively for him and always ready to listen when he wanted to talk, and being sometimes kept up half the night if he felt like a party, or being kept awake half the night when he felt like making love.
‘If I move you up,’ Miss Small said, ‘you’ll have to get in on time. I gather you’ve been late too often. That’s bad.’
‘I know. The buses are frightful,’ Virginia said hopefully. ‘The traffic gets worse every day.’
‘Leave home earlier then.’
It was not as simple as that. Often, Joe would not let her get away in time to be punctual for work. He would think of everything to detain her. He would demand bacon and eggs at the last minute. He would ask her to iron a shirt. Sometimes, when she was almost dressed, he would pull her back to bed and undress her.
Afterwards, he would lie in bed smoking, and laugh at her worrying and hurrying, and tell her that she was an idiot to fuss about giving her employers their money’s worth.
He was beginning to resent her job on the magazine. Although they were both dependent on it, it irked him that she should stay away from him every day in this other world that meant so much to her and so little to him. When she wanted to talk about her work, he would change the subject, or at best listen condescendingly, as if she were a child telling of school excitements. He began to ask questions about Derek. He would not believe that Derek had been no more than a casual office friend when Virginia came with him to the spaghetti supper.
‘I don’t trust that rat,’ he said one morning. ‘I don’t like you working with him.’
‘I’m not. I’ve told you hundreds of times, I’m in a different department.’
‘But you see him all the time.’
‘Of course he has to come into our office.’
‘To see you, no doubt. If he ever makes