Lillian’s Story
One woman’s journey through the 20th Century
by
Sally Patricia Gardner
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2006 by Sally Patricia Gardner
All Rights Reserved
Contents:
Part One, The Early years: 1900-1939
Part Two, The War Years: 1940–1945
Part Three, The Austerity Years: 1946–1956
Part Four, Better Times: 1957–1982
Part Five, The Final Years: 1983–1999
Prologue
The young clergyman climbs down from the pulpit to stand between the two coffins. Looking down, he places a hand on each. A silence envelops the packed church, but there is no shuffling of feet, no sense of unease.
“Dearly beloved brethren,” he begins. Then he throws back his head and treats his congregation to a wide smile. “How unusually apt that phrase is today. Surrounded as I am by family, theirs and mine. I have such a strong feeling that Lillian is going to be very cross with me if I get this wrong.”
He pauses as a ripple of laughter runs round the church.
“So I shall try very hard to get it right. Not only for her, but for all of us here who loved them both. We have shed our tears already. We know how much we shall miss them. But these are lives to be celebrated, and I intend to try.
“Where to start? Was Lillian an extraordinary woman born into ordinary times, or an ordinary woman born in extraordinary times? Both, I suspect. The very first time I met her she tore me off a strip for daring to suggest that working wives were a new phenomenon. I was suitably chastised, but also aware that she had enlarged my understanding of the world she grew up in.
“No, that’s wrong. Not the world she grew up in. That was even further back. Lillian was a Victorian. That’s a difficult concept for those of us who knew and loved her. Born at the turn of the century. Almost literally. In January, 1900.
“Born into a very different world…”
Part One: The Early Years
January, 1912
Tomorrow I shall be twelve years old and my new life will begin. Thursday, 11th January in the year of Our Lord 1912. Father says we must always say that to remind us of Our Father Who Art in Heaven. Like saying grace even when there is not an awful lot of food to go round. Pastor Reynolds says people who don’t remember Him all the time and thank Him for everything burn in hell, so I try very hard to remember.
I have to remember for my brothers too as they say they don’t believe it and don’t care anyway. So Thirza and I pray very hard every night for all of us. Sometimes it’s difficult being the only two girls in the family and having five brothers. Thirza is going to miss me. I think I might be too busy to miss her a lot but I shan’t tell her that.
Tomorrow, tomorrow!
Thirza’s head comes round the door.
“Lillian, Mother wants you downstairs. What are you doing, just sitting there? Come on. She’s got your dresses ready. Oh, Lillian, I wish I was going with you.”
I stand and give her a quick cuddle.
“You must work very hard at learning your letters, so you’ll be able to write to me soon. Then it will be almost as if we are not apart at all.”
“They are nearly good enough now, it’s just that only I can read them.” We both giggle and I take her hand and jump her down the narrow stairs. Mother looks up as we arrive at the bottom in a noisy heap.
“Lillian, I hope you won’t be coming down the stairs like that at Hadslow Hall.”
But she is smiling as she says it and I know she is not really telling me off. Placing the pincushion that I made her at Christmas on the arm of her chair, she holds up a dress.
“Come along, child. Time to try on.”
She slips it over my head and I pull it down and straighten the sleeves. It is beautiful. The material is so soft and the delicate grey colour looks like the wing of a bird.
“Oh, Mother…”
I am speechless with joy. She pushes back my hair gently. I think she would like to say something but words do not come easily to her. But there is a tenderness in her touch and I know, as I always have, that I have the best and most loving mother in the world.
So many new clothes. More than I have had in my whole life. I already have a black dress for going to church on Sundays, which Mother has let out for me, but she has made me two new pinafores as well. And Mother says that I will be given a work dress – just imagine, they are going to give me a dress, and food, and they will send Father some money every three months.
Today Mother is going to cut off my flannel bodice. We are all sewn into them at the beginning of October after Mother has rubbed goose grease into our chests and backs to keep us warm. Usually they are not cut off until April but as I won’t be walking to school anymore mine is coming off. And, best of all, I am going to have a bath tonight. The boys are already bringing in the buckets from the well in the garden and Father has brought out the big round iron tub, which hangs near the hay cart. When the cooking pot comes off the fire it is going to be put on to heat up just for me.
We are having a special supper tonight in my honour as I won’t be here tomorrow. I am travelling right to the other side of Suffolk so we shall have to start really early. Jack is going to drive me in the cart. Father will be too busy as Mr Nash from the big house wants to see him. Father says he’ll want to make sure that the horses are fit and well as it won’t be long before the ploughing starts. Anyway it will be fun going with Jack.
Jack is my only brother who is older than me. He is very clever. Mr Henderson wanted him to stay at school. He said that if Father would let him be a pupil-teacher and help him, then he would see that Jack sat the examination to go to one of the big schools far away. But Father said we are not rich enough for that sort of nonsense so Jack works on the farm with him. He gets paid a wage now – like I will from tomorrow! Jack still goes to see Mr Henderson a lot and usually brings books home to read. He often shows them to me but I don’t think I am as clever as him because most of the time I don’t really understand them.
Mother has made a rabbit stew and the special dumplings she knows that I love. We shall all sit round the table together tonight and later I shall have my presents. I know that everyone has made me something because they all keep telling me to “go away” and say that I mustn’t look at what they are doing. When I was little we didn’t have a table. We all used to sit on the floor round the pot and dip our bread into it. Mother said that was how gypsies lived and no way for respectable people to behave. Father brought home an enormous piece of wood one day and he and Uncle Jethro sawed and chopped and turned it into our lovely table. Martha, who lives in the cottage next door, says that we are really posh because no one else has a table.
Supper time at last. The stew is wonderful. We are all wondering what I shall be having tomorrow when I reach Hadslow Hall. Mr Nash says it is a very grand house so I expect they will have very grand food. Everyone is trying to imagine “grand food”. Timmy says “pig stew” and the twins tell him not to be silly, but after all he is only three years old.
Frank says “roast boar” and Jack nearly falls off his chair laughing. Frank got that idea from a book that Jack has been telling us about with knights and things in.
Jack says, “That was a long time ago. I don’t think anyone is that grand now.”
Timmy says, “Not even the King?”
Jack has to confess he is not sure about that. But he reckons that the food won’t be that different from ours, just more of it and not all on your plate together. Mr Nash asks him to help up at the big house sometimes so I expect he knows from that.
It’s nearly time for my presents. Father leans back in his chair and tells us to clear the table. When we are all sitting down again he leans forward and clears his throat, which we know means that he has something important to say.
“Lillian,” he says, “your mother and I have a special present for you. Not only because it is your birthday, but because you are going away.”
And he pulls out from under the table a beautiful wooden chest. It even has a lock on it. I shan’t have to put my things in the old hamper. I throw my arms round him and then round Mother. It seems that Father and Jack have been making it for weeks and everyone else has been in on the secret.
I am overcome when I open it. Mother has made me six handkerchiefs with lace round the edges and my name – Lillian – embroidered in the corner of each. I recognise the lace. She has taken it off her next best petticoat. I suddenly want to cry. I look at her and see that she has tears on her cheeks so I give her a hug and start to look at my other presents so no one will notice.
Jack has given me a book full of blank pages. It has a stiff cover and he has written on it in big writing “Lillian’s Book”. And Frank has given me two pencils to go with it. I am going to write all about my new life in it so when I come home to visit I shall not have forgotten anything. Oh, the twins have whittled me a flute. I manage to play “Three Blind Mice” and we all get the giggles. I am not very good, but I promise to practise on it. My brothers really are so clever and kind I resolve not to get cross or impatient with them ever again. Even Timmy has made me a hair slide with Jack’s help. And just when I think there can’t possibly be any more presents Thirza gives me two of her hair ribbons. I must be the luckiest girl alive to have such a family.
The tub of water is going on the fire. Father puts the clothes horse round it with the big bed blanket draped over it so I shall be private, and Mother fetches the scissors and cuts off my bodice. It is always such a funny feeling as the grease is all gone but the bodice is a strange green colour and smells very odd. Some of the families soak them to use again the next year but Mother says we are not that hard up and burns them. I feel more free, but not so cosy. The water is soon hot enough and the boys put the tub in front of the fire. Everyone leaves me alone behind the screen and I climb in. It feels wonderful. I have never had the bath to myself before and I know that I must be a real grown-up lady now.
I stay in, making it last as long as possible, until I hear Mother say, “Lillian, child, you will be getting goose skin if you stay in there much longer.”
I can see that she is right so I reluctantly climb out and prepare for bed.
Thirza and I share our bed with Timmy. We sleep at the top and he has the bottom. The twins and Frank have the other bed. Tonight there is a lot of toe-tickling and laughing and being silly. Eventually Mother comes up and orders us to be quiet and go to sleep. Thirza and the boys have to get up very early at the moment as the lanes are so muddy the walk to school takes even longer than usual.
She bends and touches my hair. “And you, girl, have a long journey tomorrow.”
We settle down, though I feel very wide-awake. Mother and Father sleep on the bed downstairs. I think that it must be nice to be so near the fire. Jack goes across the lane to Uncle Jethro’s to sleep, as since Aunty Meg died there is more room in his house and Jack helps with the children. We all use the same privy and the door squeaks. I hear the squeak and Jack’s voice greeting Uncle Jethro as sleep overcomes me. Tomorrow this will be my old life and I shall be living my new one. Tomorrow.
This is the strangest birthday anyone in the whole world ever had. Mother wakes me up very early. I dress in the dark so as not to wake the others, though Thirza sits up and pulls on my hand as I am going downstairs.
“Happy birthday,” she whispers drowsily, then, sitting up, “you will write to me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. As soon as I can,” and we hug each other tightly.
None of the boys wake, which I am quite glad about as I think a lot of goodbyes might make me feel a bit sad. Mother has lit the lamp downstairs and I sit by the fire and have a mug of warm milk. Mother tells me that Bert, who is in charge of the cows, has brought a jug round really early for us as his farewell present to me. People are so thoughtful and nice. Jack comes in and we have some bread and dripping, and Mother gives us a parcel of bread to take with us. My new wooden chest is already strapped on the back of the cart and Father harnesses up Nelly. She is my favourite of the farm horses so I am really pleased that Mr Nash said Jack could have her for today.
I don’t really want to talk a lot about saying goodbye to Mother and Father because I suddenly know how much I am going to miss them. But I concentrate hard on being a grown-up and promise Father that of course I will be a good girl and work hard…and then…one last hug for Mother…into the cart…and we are off. I twist round so I can watch them disappearing into the darkness. I am thankful that it is still dark so Jack can’t see that I am crying just a little bit.
It is the longest journey I have ever been on. When the daylight breaks we stop and have some bread and stretch our legs. Then on we go. Our next stop is at a horse trough for Nelly but there is barely time for me to get down before I am up again. My back is so sore from being bounced around on the hard seat but at least it isn’t raining. We have a big rug to pull over our knees and Jack wraps it all round me as he says that he is keeping warm with the driving. He says that we have to go about forty miles but I can’t really imagine that. We have to allow an hour and a bit to walk to school and I know that is just over two miles. The cart is a lot faster than us walking, of course, but I still think such a distance will take us all day.
In fact it is still light when we arrive at Hadslow Hall. By this time I am feeling all my old excitement again. Father has arranged for Jack to stay in the stable block overnight so he and Nelly can rest. Jack unstraps the chest from the cart and carries it up the steps for me. Hadslow Hall is not as large as I had imagined it would be, it’s hardly bigger than Mr Nash’s house really. We pull on the bell rope. I can hear someone coming.
A man in a black suit answers the door. He is very tall. He smiles at me.
“Are you Lillian?” he asks. He has a kind expression but when I say yes my voice comes out all high and squeaky so I nod in case he didn’t hear me.
He tells us that we have to go round the back of the house to the servants’ entrance and asks if Jack can manage the chest. He says his name is Mr Knight. When we arrive at the servants’ entrance someone is already standing there waiting for us. She is wearing a large white apron and I wonder if she is the cook. She takes us into a big kitchen, which is lovely and warm, and we realise how cold we are. Mrs Knight, as she tells us she is, makes us two very large mugs of tea.
There is a girl a bit older than me washing up at the sink and she turns and winks. It makes me feel warmer inside as well as outside, if you know what I mean. Mrs Knight explains that she is indeed the cook and that her husband, Mr Knight, is the butler. Mr Nash hasn’t got a butler at the big house so I am not quite sure what a butler does. The girl at the sink is called Josephine and Mrs Knight tells her to look after me for a minute.
“Don’t look so scared,” laughs Josephine (I think she laughs a lot. She’s got that kind of a face. I can see that Jack likes her from the way he is looking at her). “Mr and Mrs Knight are really nice, and you and I are the only live-in servants here. So nobody’s going to eat you – not yet anyway! You’ll meet the stable lads later, they have their meals with us. A good couple of boys they are, too. Not at all fierce, I promise you. Then there are the two girls from the village who come in the morning but go home before supper. One of them’s about your age, I reckon, though the other’s a bit older.”
Mr and Mrs Knight come back into the kitchen then and he says I must tidy myself up, as the Mistress wants to see me. Mrs Knight combs my hair quickly and brushes the stuff from the rug off my black dress, which I have travelled in. She tells me to bid Jack goodbye, as he must go down to the stable block now, and there will be no time in the morning to see him again. I had not realised this. I throw my arms round him and I think that there has never before been a moment in my life when I have not known that I could call him and he would be there. I must not cry. I am a grown-up now.
Mr Knight takes me along the hall. It feels very large and long. He knocks at a door. A woman’s voice says, “Come!” He ushers me in and the door closes behind him. I am standing in a big room with a very high ceiling. There is a large fire in the grate and, sitting in front of it, is a very large lady.
“Come forward into the light, child,” she says.
I move nearer to her. I am shaking. I tell myself it is because I am cold but I know it is because I am afraid.
“What is your name?” she asks.
I tell her, “Lillian.”
She falls silent. Then: “The girl who just left was called Ellen. That will be your name here.” She pulls a bell rope near her chair and Mr Knight appears. “She will do,” she tells him. “You may take Ellen away now and explain her duties and the standards we expect in this house.”
I am stunned. I walk in silence behind Mr Knight. Back in the kitchen Mrs Knight starts to outline my duties but I do not hear her. I am Lillian. I am not Ellen. I will never be Ellen. What is this world I find myself in?
I have never slept in a bed by myself before. First of all I feel very cold and I miss the warmth of Thirza’s body next to mine, but I am so tired I fall asleep anyway. Mrs Knight saw that I was in no state to absorb what she was telling me and made Josephine take me up to bed. We share a room in the attic that is much bigger than the room that seven of us share at home. And we have a bed each. Josephine said she would show me where to put my things in the morning. She is so good. She helped me to take off my dress and I almost fell into the bed. But now I am wide-awake. I think that it must still be the middle of the night as it is so quiet. The events of the previous day are galloping in my head. I must say it is pleasant to be able to stretch all my limbs without anyone moaning at me in their sleep. I think I shall get to like this.
But I will not like being called Ellen. Tomorrow I shall ask Josephine always to call me Lillian when we are together, because that is who I really am. I do not like the Mistress but I shall pretend to myself that I do. We used to play “let’s pretend” at home so I know I am good at it.
Ooooh, this is such a nice comfortable bed…
I can hear the sound of a match being struck and the room is suddenly full of shadows and shapes. Josephine is out of bed and has lit her candle.
“Lillian,” she whispers, but I am already out of bed. “Here, come and wash your face and hands,” and she points to a bowl on the chest of drawers. We splash the freezing water about and then dry ourselves quickly on the towel she holds out.
She hands me a black dress like hers, which I have not seen before. It is quite a lot too big for me. She says it was Ellen’s. I ask what happened to Ellen. To my surprise she looks away and says she doesn’t know, though I am sure that she does. We tuck my dress up and over the belt. I think I probably look a sight. But when I say to her, “Josephine, please will you always call me Lillian when we are alone, not Ellen,” and she says, “Bless you, of course I will,” and gives me a quick hug, then I don’t care what I look like anyway.
She takes my hand and we go down the steep stairs by the light of the candle, with me trying hard not to fall over my skirt. We catch sight of our joined-up shadows, bobbing massively on the wall beside us and are consumed with giggles.
We have to clean out the three grates and lay the fires before the Mistress and the rest of the family wake.
“It’s a really tiny family,” Josephine explains. “Just the two little girls, though there are two much older boys away at school. I’ve got seven sisters and four brothers, though only one of them is still at home as they are all much older than me. You and your brother seem really close. He’s very good looking, isn’t he?”
Funny, I’ve never thought about Jack like that, but I am happy to agree with her and I tell her about Thirza and Frank and Timmy and the twins, and before it is fully daylight I feel as if I have known her for years.
We have to carry the ash through the house. We must be very careful not to drop any. We put it in a big metal bin by the back door. Then we bring back with us a scuttle of coal for each room and enough paper and wood to lay and light the fires. At home ours stayed in all the time, but of course there was only one fire, not three, and Father and the boys chopped wood to keep it going. Now we have to light the fires. Josephine shows me how to hold a big sheet of paper over the grate so the flames whoosh up the chimney, and I am so startled when they do that I drop the paper and nearly set fire to myself. She is such a giggler we are both set off again, though, in truth, I was a bit frightened for a moment.
Next we have to fetch the pots of water that Mrs Knight has been heating on the kitchen stove and quietly take them up to the bedrooms. I knock on the Mistress’s door and wait.
“Come…”
I enter and pour the water into the basin. No other word is spoken. I begin to think that perhaps that is all she ever says. We go into the girls’ bedroom together and they are awake. They look like two little cherubs lying together in an enormous bed, peeping over the covers. They leap out and Josephine introduces me. I catch my breath, though I understand that she has to say Ellen, but then the girls throw themselves at us for a cuddle and, laughing, I don’t really care for it is nearly like being at home.
Mr Knight serves the breakfast for the family. Josephine says that when there are guests we all have to help as the sideboard nearly collapses under all the dishes of food. Most of the time it is just the family breakfast though and that is a simple affair. We sit in the kitchen with Mrs Knight and the stable lads, who are called Peter and Jimmy, and there is toast (as much as you can eat) and hot tea and lots of laughing and teasing and moaning and groaning and I realise with gratitude that they are making sure I do not feel left out.
I am learning names. The family are Mr and Mrs Curtis (though every one calls them the Master and the Mistress), and the girls are Sophia and Isabel. They are only three and four years old and they haven’t grown to their names yet, so it’s Sophie and Issy unless their parents are cross with them. The absent boys are Freddy and Raymond, who are fifteen and seventeen years old, and Josephine says they are very nice.
Peter makes us laugh with his imitation of Mrs Curtis and even though Mrs Knight says he shouldn’t do it we can see she is trying not to laugh herself. I am beginning to see that no one likes the Mistress very much. Josephine says that she is a lot younger than the Master and Freddy and Raymond are his sons by his first wife who died. She seems to spend all day lying on the sofa. We don’t see much of her. Good. Mrs Knight says she was very ill after Sophie was born and has been delicate ever since. Delicate seems a strange word for such a big lady. I think she was probably always ill-humoured.
Jimmy, the other stable lad, loves the garden and knows all the plants and shrubs just like Uncle Jethro does. He is sixteen and he reminds me a bit of Jack. The two girls from the village are not particularly friendly but we are all so busy during the day there isn’t much time to talk anyway.
After breakfast every day our first job is to do the washing-up. Mr Knight brings the dishes through from the main house. Our part of the house is separated from the family by a big green door. Then we have to sweep and dust – we do a different room every day. Josephine shows me how to dust the very fragile things with a little brush so we don’t have to pick them up. We have a big mop thing for the walls and ceilings. Then we have to fill up all the oil lamps in the rooms. There are so many of them. Sometimes as many as five in one room.
When we have finished that we go and make the beds and tidy up the bedrooms. Mrs Knight comes up with us when the linen is changed. After that is done we help to set the tables for lunch. The village girls clean the kitchen and peel the vegetables. A lady comes from the village twice a week to collect all the washing and she brings it back the next day and we help to sort it out and make sure it is all put away in the right places.
We usually have bread and dripping for lunch and then spend most of the afternoon helping to prepare dinner, which the family eat at half past four. Josephine helps Mr Knight to serve it and I will be allowed to when I am older. Then, when we have cleared up from the family we have our supper. That is the best time of the day with lots of laughing and lots of food to eat. Sometimes the bell over the door rings and Mr Knight has to leave us to answer it, but that doesn’t happen very often. After supper we do the mending while we sit round the table in the kitchen. Josephine and I try to stay awake but we are usually nodding over our work by eight o’clock, and Mrs Knight sends us to bed because we have to get up at 4.30 in the morning.
I am supposed to have a half-day off a week but the Mistress said today that as I have nowhere to go there is not a lot of point. Mr Knight says, “We’ll see about that,” when I tell him this, so I am waiting to see what happens. I have got somewhere to go, anyway, as Josephine lives in the next village and she says I can go with her to meet her family.
Josephine says we are lucky to be in such good employment. “I could tell you some stories,” she says mysteriously (she never does, though) and I know she is right, but, well, I do miss Mother and Father and Thirza and Jack and the others much more than I thought I would, though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. And I sometimes think that I would give anything to have half an hour to myself with nothing to do but read one of Jack’s books, even if I didn’t understand it.
But the most important thing is that all of the other servants call me Lillian, not Ellen. The Mistress might be able to take my half-day away but she can’t stop me being me. I tell myself that I have two families now and, as we sit down to supper, I feel a rush of affection for this, my new family.
January, 1917
Wednesday, 10th January, 1917 – no I won’t say “In the Year of Our Lord” – I won’t I won’t I can’t. The boys were right all along – it’s a nonsense. There is no caring God. Jack is dead. My loving, handsome, clever brother is dead. The letter came this morning and I put it in my apron pocket because I thought it was to wish me a happy day tomorrow but it was to tell me that Jack is dead. Mother says they don’t even know where his body is – somewhere in a place called Flanders across the sea. If you are up there, God, then what are you thinking of? Jack, where are you? Don’t leave me, Jack – I loved you so much. I am in a cloud of darkness – it is as if no one can penetrate it. I hear their voices, feel their arms round me but nothing is really touching me. Jack…oh Jack…
They are trying so hard to help. Jimmy is to drive me home. Mr Curtis says I must go immediately. There will only be Mr and Mrs Knight left here then. Josephine left last year, she is a VAD now, and we have not heard from Peter for a long time. Jimmy came back before Christmas with part of his arm blown off but he says that as he can still drive the cart and do the gardening he is one of the lucky ones. Freddy and Raymond are both army captains and Freddy is home on leave. He has given me a note to read but not yet, he says. I think now that I have been so stupid. I really never thought that anything could touch my lovely Jack. I didn’t even worry about him a lot. I will never, ever, see him again – I cannot bear it…
We are almost home. It is the first time I have been home for nearly two years. I did not think it would be like this. I must be strong. I am the eldest now. I shall be strong. Father is outside to meet us. I run into his arms and Jimmy follows slowly, not wishing to intrude. Father holds me tightly and for a minute he says nothing, then utters “Mother is inside” as he releases me.
It is dark but Mother has not lit the lamps so at first I can only see shapes in the firelight. Then Thirza throws herself at me with loud sobs. I hug her briefly then put her aside for I have found Mother, hunched in her chair.
“Mother,” I say, and she looks up. She stares at me as if I am a ghost and I think that she looks a hundred years older than when I last saw her. I think that she does not know me. “Mother, it is Lillian,” and I fall to my knees and bury my head in her lap.
“Lillian, my child,” she says and her hand creeps over my hair and in spite of all my resolution not to cry a great sob escapes from me.
My brothers emerge from the shadows and we all hold and touch and entwine in a wordless knot of grief and loss and love. Even in the middle of our pain I know how blessed we are to have each other and I ask the God who I don’t really believe in to help us through this awfulness.
I set the twins to lighting the lamps and send Frank to fill the log basket from the store in the shed. Father comes in and brings Jimmy with him. Jimmy brought me the other time I came home. He has an aunt who lives in a nearby village but Father says he is to stay with us tonight. Jimmy takes Timmy to help him bed down the horse and get the cart away. Thirza and I start to prepare the vegetables that Mother had intended for a hotpot. In that other world, before the telegram came. No – I must not, cannot, will not remember that. Concentrate on supper. I am the eldest now.
There is a tap on the door and when Father opens it Mr Nash is standing there. He touches Father’s hand for a brief moment, then clears his throat, pushes a basket into Father’s arms and is gone back into the night. The basket holds a large basin of piping hot stew. The cook must have prepared it specially and I am touched that Mr Nash has brought it himself.
We cannot persuade Mother to eat anything. I think none of us has much appetite. But I chivvy them along and pretend that the journey has made Jimmy and me hungry and Father understands and plays up to us and then the little ones discover that they really are hungry after all. We eat in silence. Then Timmy says, “Do you remember that day when Jack came home late and ate all of the stew because he thought we’d had ours already, and we were playing in the garden waiting for him to come home and we hadn’t eaten anything?” And of course we do remember.
And Henry says “Do you remember…?” and we do and the table is suddenly noisy with laughter and tears and memories.
Then we fall quiet again. And into the silence Jimmy raises his mug and says, “Here’s to Jack. I only met him the once but I felt I knew him well as Lillian spoke of him so often. He always sounded a grand fellow.”
And that feels right. We all raise our mugs and say “Jack” and Mother looks across at Jimmy and says, “Thank you.” And I know that we will, somehow, survive.
It has been decided that I am not to go back to Hadslow Hall. Father has written to Mr Curtis explaining that my family need me here. I am to become parlour maid at the big house. I shall sleep at home but will work there from 7.30 a.m. to 8.30 p.m. It is an extraordinarily generous offer. I am to have a whole day off every week and Father tells me that Mr Nash is paying a good wage for me, as well as supplying me with a dress and two aprons.
If Jack were here I should be ecstatic, but I feel numb. I am glad I do not have to leave Mother, though. We cannot have a funeral, of course, as we do not have my lovely brother to bury. Pastor Reynolds has been and says that Jack died bravely in the service of our country so God will take him into heaven very quickly. I wanted to ask if that applied to those fighting on the other side as well but I didn’t dare. I know his words comforted Mother and Father. I wish I could recapture some of my old certainties.
I am making a shepherd’s pie for supper and hope Mother will eat some. She is deathly pale and her hands tremble all the time. I do not know what else to do for her. The little ones are quiet but I know that the two years Jack has been gone from their short lives is an enormous time to them and he was already less than real. I am glad for them but I envy them, too. The pain is like a constant kicking in my stomach. Thirza keeps touching me when we pass as if we shall both draw sustenance from that. Perhaps she is right. The older boys are working with Father. There is not usually so much to do at this time of the year, so I know they are keeping busy because men are not allowed to cry.
Jimmy has gone. He is going back to Hadslow Hall, but probably not for long. His parents live in a place called Epsom, a long way away. His arm still pains him, I think, even though he says it does not, and his family want him near them. He is going to write to me.
I have just remembered Freddy’s note. I go upstairs to read it. It makes me cry again but they are not bad tears.
Dear Lillian,
You were never Ellen to Raymond and me. You came to our house as a child and when we first saw you, you had already become part of our household. We loved your optimism and your determination to be true to yourself. Even our stepmother was won over in the end, though I doubt she would ever admit it. You have grown into a woman we should be honoured to call our sister. I am so sorry you have left us in such tragic circumstances. I have no doubt that your love for him lit up your real brother’s life and I hope that may eventually be of some comfort to you. Before our mother died, she told Raymond and me that those who are left behind have an obligation to live their life to the full. I believe she was right. Remember that, dear Lillian. I trust that we shall meet again in happier times.
Yours affectionately, Freddy.
PS Back to the front tomorrow. Please pray for me.
Oh, Freddy, I will. I am.
February, 1917
It is my first day working at the big house. This time I will have my own name. I have known Mr and Mrs Nash all my life. They have three daughters who are all quite a lot older than me and married, so we don’t see them very often. Only cook is living in now, and Martha from next door comes up every day to do the rough work. I am to do the light housework, set and serve at table and receive visitors. I am relieved that Mr and Mrs Knight trained me so well as nowadays there don’t seem to be the same guidelines that once existed. My brother Frank says that people are just pleased to get servants at all and perhaps he is right. Cook is lovely and is to let me help her so that on her day off I can do some of the cooking. I think I shall enjoy that.
Enjoy? How can I already be thinking that I shall enjoy something with Jack lying dead somewhere? And yet that is what Freddy was telling me, I suppose. Jack wouldn’t want me never to be happy again. I shall learn to be happy again. And Jack will never really die while there are people living who remember him with love.
January, 1920
I am so happy and so excited. It is 11th January, and I am to be married today. I have such a pretty dress to wear. It belonged to one of Mrs Nash’s daughters and it fits me like a glove. It is long and silky and creamy and I am so relieved that the weather is frosty and the ground hard or it would have got dreadfully muddy on the way to the church. Thirza and Mother and I sewed sweepers into the hem just in case but the wet would have spoilt the way it hangs. I have never worn anything so lovely. I think every one of our friends will be at the church and Pastor Reynolds says that with all our family andall my new relations the church will be bursting at the seams. But I can tell he is as happy as everyone else is for me.
When I am ready Mother and Thirza hold the back of my dress as I go downstairs to where Father and the boys are waiting, all wearing their Sunday clothes. They are so quiet when they see me, for a moment I think I have done something wrong.
Then Timmy says, “Oh, Lillian, you look so pretty,” and Father comes and takes my hand and says, “You’re looking grand, girl,” and Frank gives me a kiss and I feel like a princess as the twins throw open the cottage door for us.
The walk to the church is such an event, with all the villagers coming out of their houses to wish me joy. Mr Noggs, the sweep, comes out of his house grinning broadly and walks up to me so that I can touch him for luck, and several people carry their black cats across our procession and then let them go so they run back across my path. So many good wishes and good omens.
The service goes amazingly quickly. One moment I am walking down the aisle on Father’s arm and the next it seems that I am going back up on my husband’s. I am now a married woman, how strange that sounds. But wonderful. I think that somewhere deep inside me I have known since I was twelve years old that I was going to marry Jimmy.
Mr Nash has asked all the family up to the big house and cook has prepared us a banquet! Martha is helping her today. Thirza has already taken my place as parlour maid and she is having a fine old time. When I think how strict everything was when I started at Hadslow Hall I can only wonder how different things are now. The war changed so many things and in spite of all the horror and misery, lots of the changes are for the better, I think.
Jimmy and I are going to work in a house in London. It is near the famous Crystal Palace, which Jack told me all about. Jimmy is to be the gardener and handyman. He thinks that is quite funny and makes jokes about being a one-handed handyman. I think that is why I love him so much, because he makes me laugh such a lot. I am to be cook, would you believe! Mother says that I would never have such a position at my age if there were not such a shortage of people going into service, but Mrs Nash says they are jolly lucky to have me. Actually, I think so too, as I know I am a good cook. Anyway they don’t know how old I am. We are Mr and Mrs Spencer and you don’t ask married ladies their age.
We are leaving tomorrow. We are going on a train. Just imagine.
February, 1920
Oh my goodness, this is such a splendid house. There is a big outhouse attached to the main building, I think it was a stable once, but now it has a car in it and we have two lovely rooms over the top of it all to ourselves. There are two live-in maids who have their room in the attic just as Josephine and I did all those years ago. Mrs Willett also has a French lady’s maid, called Collette, who does her hair and looks after her clothes. The three children have a governess, Miss Ritchie, though Sebastian, the youngest and only boy, is due to go off to school soon, poor little mite. He looks very frail. I would never send a child of mine away like that. Jimmy has an under gardener to do the heavy work.
But the funniest thing is our butler. His name is Richard, though we all call him Mr Richard, and it was several days before Jimmy and I discovered that his name is really Richard Richard! I think he is the oldest person I have ever known. His suit, and he has never been seen even without the jacket, is so ancient it is a funny green colour and privately Jimmy and I are agreed that it has a very strange smell. He walks incredibly slowly but he is very charming. When we arrived he bowed to me and said, “You must be our new cook. What a delightful young lady, if I may be so impertinent.” And then he kissed my hand! Jimmy said he would have been quite cross if Mr Richard had been any younger, but well, even though I was a bit embarrassed, I knew he meant well and so did Jimmy. I was really quite flattered, too.
By the second day we had worked out that I would put the food on a trolley I found at the back of the pantry and then one of the maids would wheel it through to just outside the dining-room door. That way Mr Richard can wait for it to come and not stagger in looking (and feeling, I should think) all breathless and wobbly. I am going to ask Mrs Willett if I may have a chair put in the hall so he can sit and wait between trolley loads.
Mr and Mrs Willett are very nice. Mr Willett is something to do with a bank and usually away in the day but Mrs Willett is a real socialite, always having friends round for cards or just to chat, and she goes out a lot. They go to the theatre quite often and Mrs Willett tells Collette all about the plays they have seen, and then Collette tells us in the evening.
Collette is not really French at all. She actually comes from Stepney. But her grandmother is half-French and Collette is her proper name, so when she heard that Mrs Willett was looking for a French maid she pretended that she was. I think that was very daring of her. I thought at first it was a bit dishonest but Jimmy says that wanting a French maid is a snob thing just so that Mrs Willett can boast to her friends and, as none of them speaks French anyway, everyone is happy and there’s no harm done. I hadn’t thought of it like that but I suppose he is right. In fact, Miss Ritchie can speak some French, but she says that she would not dream of splitting on Collette and that she thinks Mrs Willett probably suspects the truth in any case.
To be honest, being cook here is easy. Jimmy says “a piece of cake,” which makes me laugh. I see Mrs Willett every morning and we discuss what the menu for the day will be, and though that sounds very grand I generally have it all worked out and she just says, “That sounds lovely,” and though I say it myself, it usually is. Between Mother and Mrs Knight I have been taught well and I really love cooking so it doesn’t feel like work at all. When we have a lot of visitors Mrs Willett asks me how much extra help I need so I never feel under too much pressure. She is very pleased because Miss Ritchie and I have thought up some special nursery treats for the children and little Sebastian is eating better and looking stronger.
Jimmy is completely re-organising the kitchen garden for me. He says the whole garden is in a fair old state because during the war there was only one young lad trying to do it all. Apparently dear old Mr Richard gave him his orders and Jimmy says Mr Richard probably knows as much about gardening as he does about driving the car. Marcus, who does drive the car for Mr Willett and has his room at the back of the outhouse, says Mr Richard would like to stop buttling but he has no relations and nowhere to go. I think that is so sad.
Mrs Willett has asked me to help Mr Richard do a rota so all the staff get proper time off as it seems to be a bit hit and miss at the moment. I’m making sure that everyone has a whole day off every week. Jimmy and I always have ours together, of course, and today we are going to walk up to the Crystal Palace.
The Crystal Palace is HUGE – it must be the biggest building in the whole world! Oh, how I wish that Jack could have seen it. There are fountains everywhere in the gardens and even though it is winter most of them are working and shooting sparkly water high into the air. They are so beautiful but as Jimmy says, no wonder they are always saying they are short of money. It must cost a fortune to keep them going all the time.
We couldn’t go inside today as it wasn’t open. Mr Richard says that in the summer they have all sorts of shows in the gardens and a kind of fair. There is even a roller coaster. We are definitely going to have a go on that when it is back up. But the very best thing of all is the dinosaur park. Jack had a book with pictures of them and he told me that they were the very first animals on earth. There are the most enormous stone statues of them here. Some of them are on a little island in the middle of a lake. We are able to take a rowing boat and go near to them. They are actually quite scary till you get really close and can see that they are just statues. Jimmy says that dinosaurs actually were that size so I am glad that they aren’t around anymore.
April,1920
I had a letter from Mother today. She says that I sound like a real woman of the world. Just wait till I tell her that we are going to see a play in the West End of London tonight! Jimmy has bought me a beautiful dress to wear for it, the skirt is well above my ankles and I feel very daring. I should be nervous of wearing it out without Jimmy beside me. Mrs Willett has a phonograph, that’s a thing that plays all sorts of music. When I went in to see her this morning she played me a piece that she said came from Chu Chin Chow, which is the play that we are going to see. Mr Willett gave us the tickets as he said someone had given them to him but he and Mrs Willett have seen it twice already.
I sort of expected the play to be a bit like the flickers that we go to see and I didn’t expect the colour and the noise and the joy and jollity of it all. It is amazing. The story is really the fairy tale of Aladdin that I used to tell to Timmy and the little ones but everyone has different names. There’s a lot of dancing and singing and so many funny bits that everyone laughs and cheers and it is like being at a great big party. On the way out we all say “Goodnight – wasn’t it good?” to people that we have never met before and everyone smiles at everyone else just because it has made us all so happy. We are definitely going to see some more plays. Jimmy says we can go quite cheaply if we go upstairs in the gods. We are going to have a look in the newspaper to see what we fancy next.
Sometimes I almost can’t believe how nice our life is.
January, 1926
William’s fifth birthday today, 14th January, and it doesn’t seem two minutes since he was born. Marcus has popped up to see us and when Jimmy comes in he is going to take us all for a special birthday ride in his car. William is very excited at the idea of going out in the car after dark. He is sitting on Marcus’s lap with his chauffeur’s hat on. It is miles too big for him, of course, and he looks so funny.
“I’m going to be a driver when I grow up, Mummy,” he says.
“You can come and drive for me, William, I’ll have a whole fleet of cars by then,” grins his Uncle Marcus.
I wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be true, given the way things are nowadays. Ever since Mr and Mrs Willett told us they had to cut back, because of some crisis with Mr Willett’s job, we’ve been counting our blessings that we are still here. But we know that we can’t bank on anything being permanent the way we used to. Even some of the rich people are feeling the pinch now.
Marcus reads all the newspapers and saw it coming. He already had a plan worked out. He suggested to Mr Willett that he would buy the car from him, and still drive Mr Willett around, but he could start up his own private chauffeuring business as well. They talked about it for ages and then had a proper contract drawn up and now Marcus has the car and still lives here and drives the Willetts for a set amount each week, but is ever so busy driving other people as well. He calls them his toffs. Jimmy says it was really clever of Marcus because it worked both ways – Mr Willett still has a chauffeur but doesn’t have to pay him, and Marcus is already making quite a lot of money, and not paying any rent.
They had to get rid of all the other servants, though. There’s only Jimmy and me left now. I still do all the cooking, but my goodness, we do cut the corners sometimes. Mind you, though I say it myself, I’ve got good at making some really cheap cuts of meat go down well. The secret is to cook the meat for a very long time and then dress it up in a simple sauce or suchlike. That way you can conceal the shortcomings and it looks fine when it reaches the table. I am quite proud of my cooking. I like to experiment a bit, too. But I don’t talk much about it in case it looks like boasting.
We have a woman who comes in to do the cleaning every day. There’s not much entertaining anymore. I hear from Collette quite often. She is married now and has three children. I don’t know how she manages with them all so close together. Jimmy still has a lad who comes to help him with the garden. They grow a lot of vegetables and the fruit trees are all producing well, so I think that it pays for itself. We are so lucky to have such good jobs still. There is a lot of talk of workers striking in the country. Jimmy says that what the miners and lots of others are paid is disgraceful, but I don’t see what people like us can do about it.
I can hear Jimmy coming up the stairs. William charges across the room and throws himself at him and Jimmy twirls him round then pretends to drop him.
“Who’s my birthday boy then?”
“Me, me, me!” sings William, Marcus’s cap now completely covering his face.
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