They were only away for a few minutes, but it seemed an eternity, and his lordship was beside himself with worry and embarrassment. They came back, if anything faster than when they’d gone away, and stopped in a skid on the drive. ‘We did a hundred miles an hour,’ she screamed, but she didn’t get the enthusiasm back that she expected. I know I was thanking God for him having answered my prayers. His lordship just stalked away furious. Unfortunately that kind of reception didn’t stop her. There was always a next time and we knew there would be.
That incident of her ladyship’s ride on Lawrence’s motor-bike was brought back to me with some force. Shortly afterwards it fell to Mr Lee to take a message to her ladyship telling her of his death as a result of a fall from his bike. She was entertaining at the time and she hadn’t even heard that he’d been injured. As Mr Lee says, it was a terrible shock to her. He had to assist her to her room. As usual on these occasions, I had to take over. Another’s grief is almost as bad as one’s own, and in any case it was as though the whole house had suffered a loss. We all of us liked him, all, that is, except Arthur Bushell, his lordship’s valet. For some reason he couldn’t tolerate him. I don’t know why.
It was at Lawrence’s funeral that Mr Winston Churchill and her ladyship for once got close together. As Mr Churchill was leaving afterwards she ran to him and caught hold of his hand, and they stood in silent understanding with tears running from their eyes.
Her ladyship always treasured Mr Lawrence’s memory, even after Richard Aldington besmirched him in his book. I didn’t read it, but I’m told it was the truth. Even so her ladyship refused to believe anything bad of him. He was her friend and she was nothing if not loyal.
All my employers seem to have been fast, sometimes dangerous, drivers and Lady Astor was no exception. Even as a passenger she was dangerous. If we were late, which was often, she’d sit in the back shouting at Mr Hopkins, her chauffeur, to spur him on. It was as if she’d put her shirt on one of his lordship’s horses. It had its consequences. Many’s the time she and I have ended up on the floor of the Rolls. In retrospect it was funny. There she’d be sitting, smartly dressed in her black suit and three-cornered hat and with her white buttonhole, then the brakes would scream and the next moment she’d be lying on the floor, skirt above her knees, hat askew and hair falling down and eyes blazing with fury like a wild cat. Poor Mr Hopkins would have to explain, while I got her back into some sort of shape again. He couldn’t very well tell her she was at fault.
My worst, or best, driving experience with her, depending on which way you look at it, was one morning when we were going to the House of Commons, and she was driving. The roads were icy and we’d had one or two nasty moments before we got to London. You wouldn’t have thought so though, the way she drove down Constitution Hill. Suddenly, when we were in the Mall, I noticed the Guards Band coming towards us followed by people on both sides of the road. Her ladyship saw them too and put on the brakes. The wheels locked and we went sliding down towards the band. Their music sort of petered out and without waiting for any orders the musicians broke ranks, and I don’t blame them. We went sliding on through where they should have been, then her ladyship got control of the car again and drove off as fast as she could screaming with laughter as we went. I was soon joining in; after all we were still alive and she’d got to face the consequences, I hadn’t. There weren’t any. I imagine someone must have taken her number and reported her, but she got away with it, she always did. Another habit of hers was going across traffic lights when they were red. She was continually being stopped for it, but either she charmed the policemen or they knew what was good for them; for she was never prosecuted.
One quality that I loved in my lady above all others was her gaiety and her sense of fun. I once said to her, ‘If you ever find me dead on the floor you’ll know I died from laughing thinking about something you’ve said.’ When she was in her happy moods she would make a figure of fun of anybody or anything. Sometimes it was malicious, but it was always amusing. She was a wonderful mimic of the pompous British, Americans from the South and coloured people. She was sometimes accused of showing off, but it was always by people who hadn’t got her gifts and so were probably envious of them. Anyway, what would she gain by showing off to me? There would be times I’d be treated to a half-hour monologue, and I’d be bursting my stitches all the time. She was particularly fond of taking off Margot, Lady Asquith, wife of the one-time Prime Minister. She even had a special set of false teeth for the performance and some evenings when she thought she’d be called upon to entertain, I’d have to make sure they were in her handbag. It was her ability to see fun and make fun that made her so popular with young children.
An event of the year was her ladyship’s children’s party. It was held at St James’s Square in the ballroom, with the food in the top dining-room. The ballroom would be covered with imitation grass and it was laid out like a garden fête with stalls or toys, sweets, balloons, lucky dips and games. The children were given a bag of money as they came in, chocolate money wrapped up in tin foil or gold foil according to what coins were represented, and they went around the stalls ‘buying’ whatever they wanted. There were conjurors and Punch and Judy shows. All the society children would be there with their mums.
I particularly remember one just before the war when there were three queens present: Queen Mary, Queen Marie of Yugoslavia and Queen Elizabeth, with of course the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret. Queen Mary was always called upon to judge the fancy dress competition. I used sometimes to wonder really who the party was for, for the children or their mothers. It certainly wasn’t for the nannies who brought their charges along. They handed them over at the door and then went below stairs. The servants’ hall would be seething with them, much to the disgust of the permanent staff. Nannies weren’t generally popular with servants. Nanny Gibbons, the Astors’ nurse, was an exception; she knew how to behave towards them, but most of the others were considered to be a stuck-up lot.
Lady Astor always invited my mother to come and she’d send the Rolls to Walton-on-Thames to fetch her. This used to embarrass Mum. ‘Whatever will the neighbours think?’ she’d say, so I arranged with the chauffeur to stop at the top of the road and walk down to her bungalow to fetch her. When she arrived she’d sit in the cloakroom and watch as the visitors came in. She loved it. The time when all the queens were there Lady Astor must have mentioned my mother to Queen Mary, because when she was leaving she turned to her ladyship and said, ‘Where is Miss Harrison’s mother? I’d like to meet her.’ Mum was duly produced, made what passed as a curtsy and had quite a long chat with her Majesty. It really made her day.
Royalty noticed servants. They may have been the lowest of the low to the man in the street but they were given the importance they deserved by the more distinguished. That sounds snobbish I know, but after all who is it that sets the standards? Lady Astor was wonderful to my mother, who in turn of course worshipped her. She’d never hear a word against her. This I occasionally found irritating because if I went to visit Mum after some particularly hard tussle with her ladyship and was giving vent to my feelings she’d always take her ladyship’s side. ‘Anyone would think she was your daughter,’ I used to say.
Lady Astor was continually giving gifts to her. I remember the first time, it was just before Christmas. ‘I’d like to get your mother a present, Rose,’ she said, ‘What do you think she would like?’ It was in the early days and I was a bit on the defensive.
‘It’s kind of you, my lady, but we children can take care of the things she needs,’ I answered somewhat churlishly.
‘Shut up, Rose, if I want to buy your mother a present I shall. It’s my money and I shall spend it as I like. Now go away and think, I’ll give you ten minutes.’
I didn’t know what sort of thing to suggest so I went for advice to Mr Lee. He said, ‘Why don’t you ask for a turkey?’ I thought this was an excellent idea. A turkey had never found its way into our house bef
ore and I knew Mum would love one.
Sure enough, ten minutes later her ladyship rang for me, and again put the question. I told her what I’d decided on, but added, ‘Just a small one, my lady, because a large one wouldn’t fit into her oven.’
‘Go out and get her one then, Rose, and buy all the things that go with it.’
I wasn’t having that. ‘No, my lady, it’s your present, not mine, and you don’t know that I’m not the sort of person who knows no limit when it comes to spending your money.’ So she told Miss Irvine, her secretary, to go to Fortnum and Mason. It wasn’t just a Christmas turkey Mum got, it was a Christmas everything, for she sent her one of their hampers.
Lady Astor took an interest in all the members of my family, indeed for a time my sister Olive was cook to Miss Wissie, at her house in London. She was an exception to the rule; many mistresses didn’t think that servants had parents, let alone brothers and sisters. Of course her attitude affected my work. To have someone putting pleasure in my mother’s way, who got so little out of life at the time, gave me the incentive to try twice as hard. But I don’t want anyone to think that that was the reason for her ladyship’s kindness. She gave without any thought of return.
I haven’t spoken about my own social life, that is my life outside work; the reason is that I didn’t really have any. With her ladyship leading such a full life, eighteen hours a day, seven days a week, it just wasn’t on. You may say that time off was due to me and that by the terms of my employment I could have demanded it. You’d be right and I would have got it. But what would have been the consequence? Someone else, unused to my lady, would have taken over, she would almost certainly have got into a tizzy, I would have come back to things in chaos and my lady in a tantrum. It wouldn’t have worked. It would be sheer arrogance to suggest on my part that I was indispensable. Indeed when I was ill I was replaced temporarily, but it would never have been worth the candle to have had weekly disruptions. I snatched time when I could to get out, when I thought I knew that her ladyship’s appointments would keep her away long enough, but I was sometimes wrong. Predicting her movements was never really possible and she’d always straightaway ring for me on her return with the inevitable, ‘Where have you been, Rose?’ if I was there, and ‘WHERE’S ROSE?’ if I wasn’t.
My sleep was something that was precious to me and I guarded jealously the hours between nine in the evening and six in the morning. It was seldom I was in bed later than ten o’clock. Without regular rest my job would have been impossible as it was necessary for me to have a clear mind and a fit body. This was something I’m glad to say that Lady Astor understood and respected.
Although there was little opportunity of pursuing a social life outside I think the Astors were aware of this and did their best to compensate. There was a club at Cliveden which was presided over by his lordship. The sporting side was very strong. We had our own football and cricket teams, with regular fixtures, our own boat on the River Thames, and the staff could use the tennis courts and the golf course when the family weren’t in residence. Alternate weeks there would be a whist drive or a dance.
There were two big days each year: the summer party, a sort of fête with a flower show and knitting and needlework displays, sports and all the fun of the fair for the children of the estate, with a big dance in the evening. Despite the Astors’ dislike for strong drink there was beer for the men and wine for the women. The other big day was the Christmas party, and this was the one I enjoyed most. The house was decorated in traditional style and there was a huge Christmas tree in the front hall on and around which were presents for all the staff. They weren’t the ‘useful’ gifts that some employers gave, like black stockings, aprons or lengths of material to be made up into uniforms, but personal things. Everyone seemed to be studied individually.
The family would all be gathered together and a few of their more intimate friends would be invited. In the evening there was a fancy dress dance, and this was the occasion I particularly looked forward to. Perhaps there’s something of the actress in me. I loved dressing up and showing off. Choosing what to go as was also part of the fun. My success in my first Christmas there may have fired my enthusiasm. It wasn’t actually my first Christmas with the Astors, that I’d spent in America with Miss Wissie. I decided to dress up as Eliza, from the film Eliza Comes to Stay. I wore a black and white gingham skirt over a red checked one, a high-necked white blouse with a bright yellow tie, a pair of black gloves with holes in, and I borrowed Miss Wissie’s riding coat. On my head was a tiny straw hat with a tall, straight pheasant’s feather and on my feet, lace-up boots. I carried a big handbag, a broken-down umbrella, a small tin trunk that the previous hall boy had left behind, with a suspender hanging out at one end and a piece of lace at the other, all bound up with cord, and to complete the picture I persuaded her ladyship to give me a celluloid cage with a bird in that she had in her boudoir. Before the parade I had a glass of port which enabled me to walk round to the manner born. When Lord and Lady Astor saw me they exploded. I’d never seen them laugh so much, so I suppose it was a foregone conclusion that I should win the first prize.
Arthur Bushell, his lordship’s valet, also enjoyed the occasion. He went as Nellie Wallace and delighted the staff with his antics. I think he must have had more than one port because as he passed her ladyship he lifted up his skirt, and showed her his green knickers with a union jack on the behind. ‘How do you like my greens, my lady?’ he inquired. She was not amused.
‘Arthur,’ she said, ‘you’re disgusting,’ and she meant it. However Arthur was irrepressible. He was always going just that bit too far for her ladyship’s taste. I think he did it purposely, she knew it and was always ready for him.
That costume of mine was a continuing success. Many of the big houses around Cliveden gave servants’ dances and some members of our staff were generally invited. It was easier for me to get away as they always took place after dinner. I got quite a few laughs out of it too. One night I decided to go to a dance at the Wharncliffe Rooms. I came up our area steps into St James’s Square and stood waiting for a taxi. I attracted the attention of many of the passers-by and I could hear some whispering about the terrible state of affairs there was for servants. One man and woman stopped in their tracks as they were passing me; they mumbled together and the man fumbled in his pocket and with a gruff, ‘Here you are, my dear,’ thrust half-a-crown in my hand.
I was at a loss for words but true to my costume I dropped a curtsy at him as he went on his way. Just at that moment Mr Hopkins drew up in the Rolls. I went over to him and he offered to drive me to the dance. I didn’t like to look to see if the generous couple had noticed, but if they did they must have got the shock of their lives. So did the photographer when I reached the Wharncliffe Rooms, for I suppose seeing a Rolls drive up and Mr Hopkins helping me out he thought I must be somebody, and kept his camera snapping at me. Then as I was going in he rushed up and asked me my name – ‘Rose Harrison, Lady Astor’s maid,’ I told him. I wished I’d had a camera for his face was a perfect picture. There was nothing he could do though. I hadn’t asked to have my photo taken.
One of the social events of the year in London for us was Lady Malcolm’s servants’ ball, which was held at the Albert Hall. It was a charity affair, with employers buying tickets for their staff at prices we could never have afforded. My ‘Eliza comes to stay’ took first prize there too, which Lady Astor considered a feather in her cap. Today it would seem incongruous to contemplate holding a servants’ ball. I don’t suppose anybody would go. To begin with there are so very few servants around and those that there are don’t acknowledge the word, and would think the whole idea lowering. We didn’t.
So, although today our social life might seem a bit dull and mundane I recall it with nostalgia. We had a deal of fun heightened possibly by the hard work that surrounded it. My life was made more enjoyable by the travelling I did and even at home it was never boring; my lady’s unpredictability saw to
that. Then, despite the size of the staff, I think most of us had the feeling of belonging. I’ve already mentioned Michael Astor’s book Tribal Feeling. I suppose when he wrote it he was considering the family, but the feeling went wider than that. It brushed off on all of us, on some of course more than others. I must have got covered in it. After all, and I direct this remark to Mr Michael, ‘You left home when you were eight to go to your preparatory school. After that it was a place where you spent your holidays. I was there continuously for thirty-five years so I feel as much, if not more, a member of the tribe, even though I may have been a more savage one.’
6
Entertaining in the Grand Manner
Entertaining both at St James’s Square and Cliveden was done in style and in the grand manner. Lunch and dinner parties and receptions were so frequent, they became a commonplace. Not that that meant there was any less work, but it was like a drill: everyone knew what was expected of him and more or less did it automatically; so it became easier by constant repetition. My part was to get my lady presentable and ready on time. After that I went to my room and did the necessary pressing and cleaning and getting ready for the following day, though this was often interrupted when she wanted me to take her something or to run messages. But there was always an inquest in the servants’ hall afterwards so I had a very good idea of what went on in each department.
There were two types of party: ‘My town style and my country style,’ as Lady Astor would call them. The ‘town style’ at St James’s Square was more formal, with a majority of political guests. The ‘country style’ at Cliveden, while none the less correctly presented, had a feeling more of family and friends. She invited a mixed bag of people and since many were staying in the house there was a greater ease, more of the person and less of the face. This was also reflected in the dinner services used, the food served and, strange though it may seem, in the flower decoration. Her ladyship was very proud of the distinction between her two types of entertaining and was immediately critical if she felt that one had encroached on the other.
Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor Page 11