her wits about her.
First and foremost it was essential that she acquire a beau to partner her at dances â any beau (I gathered that almost anything in trousers would do) â because unattached girls were always a liability. This meant that one had to corral a male who could dance. And one need not, to begin with, be too fussy â unless, of course, one was outstandingly pretty or the daughter of a well-heeled father who held an important post in the Government, in which case one could pick and choose, since ambitious young men would be only too anxious to take one out and about. However, since that plainly did not apply to me, Gerry advised me to keep my sights low and start by ensnaring some Indian Infantry subaltern, or even a junior
box-wallah
(a term for those in trade, who, according to Gerry, came at the bottom of the social scale except in places like Calcutta and Bombay).
Once you had managed to corral a steady beau you would be invited to all sorts of parties that you would never have been asked to as an unattached spinster; for although hostesses considered a spare man to be an asset to any party, they regarded an extra girl as a disaster. But once safely in circulation you could, with luck, pick up something better â graduate from a
box-wallah
or an Indian Foot subaltern to someone in a British regiment or in the Indian Cavalry; and from there, who knows? ⦠To the British Cavalry or one of the Viceroyâs ADCs, or even to a member of the ICS â the Heaven-born, no less! It was up to you. The world of Jane Austen and Becky Sharpe had not, as I had supposed, disappeared along with Queen Victoria and her beloved Albert, but was still with us; very much alive and flourishing like the green bay tree in this outpost of Empire.
Gerry was kind enough to give me endless tips on how to outsmart other girls and ensure that my dance-programme * was filled. All this would, I feel sure, have proved invaluable to me if only I hadnât lackedthe nerve to put them into practice. The lecture ended with a solemn warning: I must never, but
never!
emphasized Gerry, neglect to discard the early and socially less important admirers who had acted as stepping-stones to higher things, once their usefulness was over and I had âmade the gradeâ.
âI can see that sounds pretty shocking to you,â said Gerry, âand that you think Iâm being horridly hard-hearted. But believe me, itâs the only sensible thing to do. If you mean to get on, you simply
cannot
afford to lumber yourself with useless and unimportant friends. Just harden your heart and drop them as soon as possible. If youâve played your cards right, youâll find it easy enough to drop the riff-raff. One
has
to be ruthless!â
I can still see myself on that hot afternoon, wearing the regulation âsiesta dressâ of bra and camiknickers (who remembers those?) and sitting hunched up and pop-eyed with horror on Gerryâs bed under the misty folds of her mosquito-net; being instructed on how to attract men and become a social success by this enchanting and wildly successful âWeek Queenâ. And I remember, too, how my heart sank down and down as I listened, because I knew only too well that I lacked the nerve to do or say any of the things that Gerry insisted were vitally necessary and
must
be done. I was, after all, the granddaughter of a devout Scottish missionary, and I was shocked to the core of my ignorant, innocent and prudish âplay-up-and-play-the-gameâ soul, by almost everything that Gerry had said. I had never dreamed that the search for âlove and laughter and happy-ever-afterâ could turn out to be such a harshly competitive affair; or that the pursuit of happiness entailed quite so much quick thinking and sharp practice. I knew I wasnât up to it and that I had better face the bleak fact that I was destined to be a wallflower at dances and end up unwed and unwanted
First and foremost it was essential that she acquire a beau to partner her at dances â any beau (I gathered that almost anything in trousers would do) â because unattached girls were always a liability. This meant that one had to corral a male who could dance. And one need not, to begin with, be too fussy â unless, of course, one was outstandingly pretty or the daughter of a well-heeled father who held an important post in the Government, in which case one could pick and choose, since ambitious young men would be only too anxious to take one out and about. However, since that plainly did not apply to me, Gerry advised me to keep my sights low and start by ensnaring some Indian Infantry subaltern, or even a junior
box-wallah
(a term for those in trade, who, according to Gerry, came at the bottom of the social scale except in places like Calcutta and Bombay).
Once you had managed to corral a steady beau you would be invited to all sorts of parties that you would never have been asked to as an unattached spinster; for although hostesses considered a spare man to be an asset to any party, they regarded an extra girl as a disaster. But once safely in circulation you could, with luck, pick up something better â graduate from a
box-wallah
or an Indian Foot subaltern to someone in a British regiment or in the Indian Cavalry; and from there, who knows? ⦠To the British Cavalry or one of the Viceroyâs ADCs, or even to a member of the ICS â the Heaven-born, no less! It was up to you. The world of Jane Austen and Becky Sharpe had not, as I had supposed, disappeared along with Queen Victoria and her beloved Albert, but was still with us; very much alive and flourishing like the green bay tree in this outpost of Empire.
Gerry was kind enough to give me endless tips on how to outsmart other girls and ensure that my dance-programme * was filled. All this would, I feel sure, have proved invaluable to me if only I hadnât lackedthe nerve to put them into practice. The lecture ended with a solemn warning: I must never, but
never!
emphasized Gerry, neglect to discard the early and socially less important admirers who had acted as stepping-stones to higher things, once their usefulness was over and I had âmade the gradeâ.
âI can see that sounds pretty shocking to you,â said Gerry, âand that you think Iâm being horridly hard-hearted. But believe me, itâs the only sensible thing to do. If you mean to get on, you simply
cannot
afford to lumber yourself with useless and unimportant friends. Just harden your heart and drop them as soon as possible. If youâve played your cards right, youâll find it easy enough to drop the riff-raff. One
has
to be ruthless!â
I can still see myself on that hot afternoon, wearing the regulation âsiesta dressâ of bra and camiknickers (who remembers those?) and sitting hunched up and pop-eyed with horror on Gerryâs bed under the misty folds of her mosquito-net; being instructed on how to attract men and become a social success by this enchanting and wildly successful âWeek Queenâ. And I remember, too, how my heart sank down and down as I listened, because I knew only too well that I lacked the nerve to do or say any of the things that Gerry insisted were vitally necessary and
must
be done. I was, after all, the granddaughter of a devout Scottish missionary, and I was shocked to the core of my ignorant, innocent and prudish âplay-up-and-play-the-gameâ soul, by almost everything that Gerry had said. I had never dreamed that the search for âlove and laughter and happy-ever-afterâ could turn out to be such a harshly competitive affair; or that the pursuit of happiness entailed quite so much quick thinking and sharp practice. I knew I wasnât up to it and that I had better face the bleak fact that I was destined to be a wallflower at dances and end up unwed and unwanted
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