The Sweetest Dream

‘But it's not my fault...’ Phyllida was off again, and then, seeing that Sylvia had sprung up to go, said, ‘Oh, stop, stop. I'm sorry. '

‘I can't stand it when you complain and accuse me,’ said Sylvia. 'Don't you understand? I can't bear it, Mother.'

Phyllida tried to smile, and said, ‘I won't do it, I promise. '

'Do you really promise? I want to finish my exams and be a doctor. If you' re in the house getting at me all the time, I'll simply run away. I can't bear it. '

Phyllida was shocked by this vehemence. She sighed, and said, ‘Oh, dear, was I really so bad?'

‘Yes, you are. And even when I was tiny you were always telling me it's all your fault, without you I’d be doing this or that. Once you said you were going to make me put my head into the gas oven, with you, and die. '

‘Did I? I expect I had good cause. '

'Mother.' Sylvia got up. 'I'm going. I'll talk to Julia and Frances. But I'm not going to look after you. Don't expect me to. You'll only get at me all the time. '

And so just as Frances had joyfully decided to give up journalism and Aunt Vera for ever, and the serious sociological articles, not to mention the odd bits of work she did with Rupert Boland, Julia said that she was going to have to give Phyllida an allowance and ' generally look after her. She's not like you, Frances. She can't look after herself. But I've told her she must be self-contained, and not bother you.'

‘And, surely more important, not bother Sylvia. '

' Sylvia says she believes she can cope with it. '

‘I do hope she can. '

'But if I give Phyllida an allowance... can you do Andrew's fees? Are you earning enough?'

‘Of course I am. ‘And so there went the theatre again. All this had happened in the autumn of 1964, and so had this: Rose had gone. She knew she had done well in her exams: she did not need the results to tell her that. She came up at a time when Frances, Colin and Andrew were together to say, 'And now I've got super news. I'm leaving. So you'll be rid of me now. I'm off for good. I'm going to university.’And she ran off down the stairs. Suddenly she wasn't around. They waited for her to ring, write – but nothing. The flat had been left in a mess, clothes on the floor, bits of sandwich on a chair, in the bathroom tights hanging up to dry. But that was the general style of' the kids' and need not mean anything.

Frances rang Rose's parents. No, they had heard nothing. ' She says she is going to university.' 'Did she now? Well, I expect she'll enlighten us in her own good time. '

Should the police be told? But this did not seem appropriate for Rose. Going to the police over Rose, Jill, and over Daniel who had disappeared once for weeks, had always been discussed at length and on the basis of principles suitable for the Sixties, and had been rejected. The Fuzz, the Pigs, Old Bill, the upholders of fascist tyranny (Britain) could not be approached. July... August... Geoffrey had heard through the grapevine that then united the young continent to continent that Rose was in Greece with an American revolutionary.

In August Phyllida had made her appeal, and took up residence in the downstairs flat. In September Rose had turned up, hitching over her shoulder a great black sack, which she dumped on the kitchen floor.

‘I’m back,’ said Rose, ' with all my worldly goods. '

‘I hope you had a good time,’ said Frances.

' Putrid,’ said Rose. ' The Greeks are shits. Well, I'll just get fixed up downstairs.'

'You can't. Why didn't you let us know? The flat's being lived in. '

Rose subsided into a chair, for once shocked into defence-lessness. 'But... why? ... I said ... it isn't fair!'

'You told us that you were off.For good, we thought. And you didn't try to get in touch and tell us what your plans were. '

'But it'smy flat.'

' Rose, I'm sorry. '

‘I can doss down in the sitting-room. '

‘No, Rose, you can't. '

' I've had my results. All As. '

' Congratulations. '

‘I’m going to university. I'm going to the LSE.'

‘But have you actually done something about being accepted?'

‘Oh, shit. '

‘Your parents don't know anything about it. '

‘I see, there's a conspiracy against me. '

Rose sat in a heap, that pudgy little face for once showing vulnerability. She was confronting – perhaps for the first time, but certainly not the last – her real nature, which was bound to land her in this kind of -'Shit,' she said again. 'Shit.' Then, 'I've got four As.'

‘My advice is to ask your parents if they'll pay. If so, go to your school and ask them to put in a word for you, then ask the LSE. But it's very late for this year. '

' Fuck you all,’ she said.

She got up, rather the way a shot bird labours up, picked up her great black sack, dragged herself and it to the door, went out, and there was a long silence from the hall. She was recovering herself? She was having second thoughts? Then the front door slammed. She did not go to the school, nor to her parents, but was seen about in London in the clubs and at demonstrations and political meetings.

No sooner was Phyllida installed than Jill arrived. It was a weekend, and Andrew was there. Frances and he were eating supper and they invited Jill to join them.

They did not ask what she had been doing. There were scars on both wrists now, and she was unhealthily fat. She had been a slim neat sleek blonde, but now she was too big for her clothes, and her features were lumpy. They did not ask but she told them. She had been in a psychiatric hospital, had run away, had gone back voluntarily, where she found herself helping the nurses with the other patients. She decided she was cured and they agreed. 'Do you think you could get the school to take me back? If I can just take my exams – I'm sure I could. I was even doing a bit of study in the bin.'

Again Frances said that it was a bit late for that year. ' If you could just ask them?’ said Jill, and Frances did, and an exception was made for Jill, who was expected to pass her A-levels, if she worked.

And where was she to live? They asked Phyllida if Jill could have the room that Franklin had used, and Phyllida said, ' Beggars can't be choosers. '

No sooner was Jill in than Phyllida began on her accusations, using her as a target. From the kitchen above they could hear the heavy complaining swing of Phyllida's voice, and on and on, and after only a day Jill had appealed to Sylvia, and the two girls had gone together to Frances and Andrew.

‘No one could stand it,’ said Sylvia. ' Don't blame her. '

‘I’m not,’ said Frances. ‘We' re not,’ said Andrew.

‘I could camp in the sitting-room,’ said Jill.

‘You could use our bathroom,’ said Andrew.

What had been impossible for Rose, was accepted for Jill, who would not fill the centre of the house with thunderclouds of rage and suspicion. And Julia said, ‘I knew it. I always knew it. And now at last this beautiful house is a doss-house. I'm surprised it didn't happen before. '

‘We hardly ever use the sitting-room,’ said Andrew.

' That isn't the point, Andrew. '

‘I know it isn't, Grandmother. '

And so that had been the situation, from the autumn of 1964, Andrew coming and going from Cambridge, Jill, studying hard, being responsible and good, Sylvia working so hard Julia wept and said the girl would be ill, Colin sometimes at home and sometimes not. Frances was working from home, and more and more on attractive enterprises with Rupert Boland, and often from the Cosmo. Phyllida was downstairs, behaving well, not tormenting Sylvia, who kept well away from her.

In 1965 Jill made friends with her parents and went to the LSE 'to be with all my mates'. She said she would never forget the kindness that had rescued her. 'You rescued me,' she said earnestly. ‘I’d have been done for, without you. ' Thereafter they heard about her from other people: she was in the thick of all the new wave of politics and saw a lot of Johnny and his comrades.