that life should be of meaning here on earth, not just bungled through any old how in the expectation of life hereafter.
Q: There is no life hereafter?
A: I’m not saying that, another motto of Darcy’s Utopia being ‘let’s have our cake and eat it too’. But you’re distracting me from practicalities. The State of Israel was created by international consensus: why not Darcy’s Utopia?
Q: An unfortunate analogy. Look what happened there!
A: We don’t know yet what happened there. And as I have told you, you must refrain from believing you will learn lessons from history. Nothing now is exactly the same as anything then. Apart from anything else Darcy’s Utopia will be surrounded by friends, not enemies. The only thing to assault it will be a flood of ideas, suggestions, recommendations; which will be difficult to fight off, because the hope of the world goes with them, and there is a terrific energy in that, you may be sure.
Q: There will be no tourists?
A: There will be no tourists. Frankly, there won’t be much to see, there being no history to Darcy’s Utopia—no roots, and none sought. But there will be celebrations, feast days. Did I tell you how, when I was first with Julian Darcy, before he became known as Rasputin and myself as the Bride of Rasputin, I organized and catered for all the Graduation Week ceremonies at the University of Bridport? It all worked wonderfully well. Friends and relatives turned up to help. The sun shone. There were strawberries and cream, and champagne at the garden parties. We had guests to stay at the lodge—a couple of other Vice Chancellors plus wives—and they were easy with me, not condemning at all. I had expected some hostility, since they were accustomed to Georgina, not myself, at the table, but none was apparent. Mind you, Julian was then one of the most important and influential men in the Joint University Convocation. That might have had something to do with it. He had the ear of the government, of the Secretary of State himself; no one wanted to believe his judgement could be suspect. The myth was that Julian knew what he was doing. The smooth running of Graduation Week seemed to prove it. If the sun shines, and there is champagne, strawberries and cream for tea, who can doubt it? Later, of course, when Julian was being prosecuted for evasion and misuse of public funds, the champagne, strawberries and cream were held against him. It was seen as gross extravagance at a time when he knew, or should have known, that the university was in acute financial difficulties. It was alleged, quite wrongly, that I had thirty pairs of shoes in my wardrobe. Some photographer got in and took pictures of them. ‘Luxury and extravagance at Bridport’ went the caption. When husbands fall from power, the number of shoes in the wife’s wardrobe are always a source of marvel, shock and abhorrence. In actual fact most of the shoes were Georgina’s—too good to throw away, too big and boring for me to wear. She had really big horsy feet.
Q: There was always an undercurrent of feeling at the time of the trial that your husband had been framed. That some people were out to get him. Can you comment on that?
A: Of course they were. Everyone was out to get him. The government took on Julian’s proposals for a radical rethinking of fiscal policy, but compromised at the last moment with the traditionalists: the nation got the worst of all worlds, instead of the best. Inflation took off, but not the hyper-inflation Julian and I were seeking. The myth that was Julian crumpled: the rumbling discontent in the university over the question of Georgina and myself could no longer be held down: the Board of Governors discovered flaws in the accountancy system and declared the university bankrupt. Criminal proceedings against Julian followed. You might almost think, if you were superstitious, that the curse which fell upon Bernard fell upon Julian too. That is enough for today. Thank you.
Brenda’s letter to Hugo
DEAR MR VANSITART,
I don’t get a chance to get a word in edgeways when you and Apricot are talking. She’s still just Apricot to Belinda and Liese and me. We’ve seen her through her Ellen years and her Eleanor years, though sometimes, I don’t mind telling you, our patience has worn a little thin, and her recent experiences haven’t seemed to calm her down one bit.