Maynard's War Chapter 17
A Blank Canvas
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Apologies for the late arrival of this week’s chapter. Suffice to say that this morning at 11am, by a peculiar coincidence, I was driving through Halesworth in Suffolk.
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May 1916
By the end of April it had become clear that the Government had overestimated the number of unmarried men and childless widowers that would be forced to enlist under the Military Service Act. In May, a second act was passed widening the net to include married men between the ages of eighteen and forty-one. Leonard Woolf now faced the very real prospect of being called up. This gave him much to think about. Although Virginia was a good deal better, her health was still a concern. And while provision could be made for her in his absence, he worried about leaving someone else to make decisions about her care.
While he remained opposed to the war, especially the way it was being prosecuted, he still felt an overwhelming desire to experience it first-hand. He wasn’t worried about being wounded, or even killed, though he was concerned that his presence on the battlefield might put others of his own side in danger. He could never forgive himself if his incompetence cost the life of a comrade. Nonetheless, were it not for Virginia, he would already have volunteered, and was surprised not to have been called up already. He wondered if it had something to do with his name coming towards the end of the alphabet. Whatever the cause, a letter was sure to arrive any day now, and in anticipation of the inevitable he had made an appointment to see Maurice Wright.
Wright had been a good friend before he became the most helpful of Virginia’s doctors. They had first met soon after Leonard’s return from Ceylon when he had sought treatment for his trembling hands. He had decided to ask Virginia to marry him and hoped that if Wright could do something about his shaking, she might take his proposal more seriously. In the event he had shaken uncontrollably but she still accepted him.
He was surprised to find his friend in military uniform. Wright explained he had accepted a position in the Royal Army Medical Corps. He was unlikely to travel overseas but would be responsible for coordinating provision for wounded troops in makeshift hospitals across Surrey. “How is Virginia?” he asked as Leonard sat down.
“Reasonably well,” he replied, touching the wooden desk in front of him. “She has good days and bad, but the trajectory seems to be in the right direction.”
“I’ve seen these things take years, and in cases a good deal less severe than hers.”
“This is partly what I want to talk to you about. I’m going to be called up at any moment and while I have mixed feelings about it, the thing that weighs most heavily on my mind is whether Virginia could cope with my absence for an extended period?”
Wright stared at him for a moment. “My dear man,” he replied eventually, “I can think of nothing worse for Virginia’s health than your going off to war. It could be catastrophic. And should you fail to return, well, need I say more?”
“Yes, I imagined you might say this,” Leonard said.
“Do you actually want to go over to France?”
“Yes. Well, a part of me does. It’s something I’d like to experience.”
“And do you think you’d be any good as a soldier? You can barely hold your hands steady enough to drink a cup of tea.”
“I had planned to ask you about that as well,” Leonard replied.
“I would be more than happy to write a letter to the authorities on your behalf. I don’t think you’d get through the medical anyway, but a letter would save you an awful lot of time and trouble.”
“And would the letter mention Virginia’s illness?”
“No need. Your condition is more than enough to get you excused. And the last thing Virginia needs is a visit from some tribunal officer to assess her condition.”
A few minutes later Leonard left Wright’s consulting rooms with a letter in hand and a strong sense of having lost something. He now knew he wouldn’t experience the war as he felt it should be experienced and there was nothing he could do about it. Having spent weeks arguing for the right of individuals to act according to their conscience in respect of joining up, his right to do so had been taken from him, and he didn’t much like it.
The train journey was proving interminable. Vanessa suspected it had something to do with the war, but then everything had something to do with the war these days. It had now taken to stopping for long periods between stations. She’d never taken a train to quite such a remote part of the country, but then Wissett Grange, an abandoned farm house in the middle of Suffolk, was not somewhere she ever anticipated having to call home.
Duncan and Bunny had taken over the place two months previously following Maynard’s suggestion that agricultural work would improve their chances of being exempted as conscientious objectors. Since their arrival, Vanessa had been in receipt of more than a dozen letters from each of them; Bunny’s generally positive, Duncan’s endlessly bemoaning the fact that he wasn’t cut out for manual labour, and how he longed to get back to his painting. But some progress appeared to have been made. They had acquired some productive hens and were hopeful that the apple trees, despite years of neglect, would give a good harvest.
In the three months that Bunny had remained in Paris after being separated from Duncan at Dieppe, Vanessa had felt her relationship with Duncan move onto a much firmer footing. She now considered herself at least Bunny’s equal in respect of Duncan’s affections, and her fidelity put her at a clear advantage in Duncan’s eyes. She also had the advantage of knowing all about their relationship, while being confident that Duncan didn’t talk to Bunny about his feelings for her. But since his return, she had also become much closer to Bunny, who, despite his relative youth, was far more worldly. Bunny had made it clear on more than one occasion, though usually when he was the worse for drink, that he didn’t see a future for himself and Duncan. Nonetheless, she was looking forward to enjoying the company of both men once again.
She looked at Duncan across the carriage where he continued to sleep, snoring gently. She was still livid that having come to London to help her with the move, he ended up getting too drunk to be any help at all. She still had the smell of his vomit in her nostrils, and was furious that she had been left to clear it from the cab floor while he shared a joke with the driver. She hoped Bunny would be at Halesworth station to meet them, otherwise she would have to leave the four trunks, along with Duncan, until morning and make her way on foot. In the event, Bunny proved as reliable as ever. He noticed Duncan’s shirking as he loaded the luggage on to the cart. “Not been a great deal of help?” he asked Vanessa intentionally in earshot of Duncan.
“Complete waste of time,” she answered while Duncan leant against the side of the cart yawning. He was still there when Bunny and Vanessa were on the cart and ready to go.
“Are you coming with us Duncan?” Bunny shouted at him.
“Oh, are we ready?” Duncan asked, pulling himself onto the back of the open cart in the narrow gap Bunny had left for him between the trunks.
“So, how’s the farm?” Vanessa asked Bunny as they moved off.
“It’s going well. Hard work, and we haven’t had time to sort the house out, at all. We were rather hoping you might help with that?”
“I like nothing more than a blank canvas, as you know.”
“I’m afraid it’s a rather torn and grubby one.”
Vanessa had not expected the house to be quite so bad. Enough space has been cleared in the kitchen to prepare basic meals and one of the bedrooms made habitable. Bunny was working from dawn to dusk on the farm, with Duncan helping until he was too tired, at which point he would set up his easel and paint. Vanessa could tell Bunny wasn’t happy about the situation but knew there was nothing he could do, not if he wanted Duncan’s help at least some of the time.
She had ten days until Blanche and Flossie arrived with the children, not enough time to do the house justice, but sufficient to make a start. She chose for herself the bedroom with the best view - the surrounding countryside was the only thing about the place so far to endear itself to her - and set about several years’ worth of cobwebs.
After an hour, she stopped to blow the dust from her nose and observed the men working in the fields below. Watching Duncan struggle under Bunny’s direction she was reminded, despite everything, how much she loved him. He could be so generous and kind and yet he was possibly the most selfish man she had ever met. He couldn’t have done more to obstruct Bunny’s efforts to turn the farm into a going concern. Every time Bunny asked him to do something, having exempted himself from all decision making, he would nonetheless demand to know why Bunny wanted it done this way, and not that. She would have understood had Bunny decided to hit Duncan around the head with his hoe, but he remained calm and patient. She could only conclude that he must love Duncan as much as she did, although she wondered if letting Duncan have his own way the whole time didn’t make both of their lives more difficult.
She was pleased to find a well-stocked larder and when the men came in they were immensely grateful to be presented with supper. “We really are so pleased you decided to join us here,” Bunny said.
“It wasn’t a difficult decision. You know how much I enjoy the country, and I needed to get away from Virginia.”
“She is much better, though?” Duncan asked.
“Yes, but, and I know this is going to sound terribly unkind, when she’s confined I get some space. When she’s well it’s difficult to escape her. And there’s the added pressure that even the smallest perceived rejection from me will set back her recovery. She’s my sister and I love her. I want nothing more than for her to be well, but we don’t have to live in each other’s pockets.”
“And that’s what Virginia wants?” Bunny asked.
“Always has really, hasn’t she Duncan?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Thank God for Leonard, though. Imagine what things would be like if he hadn’t taken her off your hands.”
“I know. But Leonard needs a break too. And he has to work in order to pay for her care.”
“Do you know how long you’ll stay?” Bunny asked.
“As long as you two do, I suppose.”
Duncan looked at Bunny. “Well,” he said, “if our efforts here satisfy the authorities, that might well be until the end of the war, whenever that is.”
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