Over the past few years, the British Library has been doing sterling work with its excellent Women Writers series, reissuing lost treasures by female authors from the 20th century for modern-day readers to enjoy. First published in 1942, Angela Milne’s novel One Year’s Time is a relatively recent addition to the series, another welcome release from this fascinating imprint.
Set in the mid-late 1930s – we’re never quite sure of the exact date – Milne’s novel covers a year in the life of Liza, a young unmarried woman who fantasises about ‘The Future’. More specifically, the story is concerned with the pursuit of love and marriage, charting the ups and downs of Liza’s relationship with Walter, a superficially charming young man she has just met at a party.
For a writer working in the early 1940s, Milne is relatively candid about the portrayal of sex before marriage. For instance, Liza and Walter waste little time in cutting to the chase, ending up in bed together the second time they meet. There is a bit of a Nancy Mitford/Bright Young Things vibe to this couple’s interactions, with liberal use of the pet name ‘darling’ as they get to know one another in and out of bed.
The novel is divided into four sections – Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter – with Milne cleverly using the passing of the seasons to represent the different stages in Liza’s relationship with her beau. So, in spring, we see romance blossoming as Walter spends several evenings at Liza’s Chelsea flat. By the summer, Liza has given up her steady secretarial job in London’s Chancery Lane to rent a cottage in the New Forest with Walter as he works on his book.
While Walter is fairly relaxed about the pair of them living together, Liza is more conscious of social conventions, so she buys a wedding ring from Woolworths for the sake of appearances. In short, Liza likes the idea of being married to Walter, but this pretence comes with its own risks – a multitude of little details that threaten to trip her up.
As the story unfolds, we begin to see a mismatch in their expectations of the relationship. Liza longs for the security of a more solid bond; consequently, she can never truly be herself with Walter, fearing that she might lose him if her real feelings come to light. (While the novel is written in the third person, Milne gives us access to Liza’s inner world, laying bare her insecurities in a refreshingly candid way.)
She could never be herself till she was married. When they were married she could be nasty to Walter when it was necessary, because she wouldn’t be afraid of losing him. She could tell him he was lazy, she could make him a proper barrister and bully him to write his book. And all she did now was stop him working; not by saying anything, by saying nothing; because he was afraid, because at the heart of their relationship, instead of the courage to take each other for life, was a blank, a fear on her side, on his – she sat down again and thought, trying to put herself in Walter’s place. Yes, he was being perfectly reasonable; he had always told her what he wanted, she had always said she wanted it too, because she was afraid.
Walter, on the other hand, is keen to maintain his freedom. Blessed with a surface-level charm, he is in fact rather selfish at heart, reacting with annoyance when Liza expresses even a hint of disappointment. Consequently, he tries to convince her that they both want the same thing – in other words, a carefree relationship free of the ties of marriage.
I won’t reveal how this enjoyable story plays out, save to say that the New Year marks another change for Liza – hopefully one for the best.
Milne uses humour well, peppering her story with charming dialogue and amusing details. The early scenes featuring Liza’s work colleagues at the office are especially well observed.
The office was rather exciting to-day. First, Miss Derry had a new jumper. Last week she had dyed the navy one turquoise; or rather, as she had said, she had dyed the blasted stripes turquoise, you couldn’t do anything with the navy part. It had made no difference that any one could see, and to-day Miss Derry had been saying, when Liza came in, ‘So I gave it to Mum for polishing brass. What do you think of this one?’ It was magenta, open work, with very short puffed sleeves.
‘Pretty hot,’ Miss Netley had said gloomily. (pp. 30–31)
As always, this edition comes with an insightful afterword by series consultant Simon Thomas, who notes the prominence of money (alongside pre-marital sex) as a significant theme in the novel. While Liza isn’t poor – there is a small inheritance from a family member to supplement her income – she’s not exactly rolling in money, either. Once again, Milne conveys this aspect of her protagonist’s life using some well-judged details, gently evoking the sadness of post-war single life.
Liza bought some steak and tinned carrots in the King’s Road. She was empty, but not hungry. She wasn’t happy now; drinking had squeezed the excitement from the world, which was now flat, dull, showing her such trivialities as the ladder the Underground had made in her stocking, the clothes she must wash and mend to-night; an empty evening in an empty flat, and the office to-morrow, and the next day, and the next day. (p. 18)
In summary, then, this is another welcome reissue from the British Library Women Writers series, which continues to shed light on the social fabric of women’s lives in the mid-20th century. My thanks to the publisher for kindly providing a review copy.
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