Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor
Page 27
After about a week she drifted into a coma. She was conscious of what was going on and she knew that I was with her. I held her hand all the time that we were together and by the changing pressures we seemed to be able to say something to each other, and when I kissed her goodnight her grip seemed to tighten. As she grew thinner I would put a hand under her hip-bone to give her some relief from the pressure on it. She hated having to be turned by the nurses and would call out, ‘Don’t let them do it, Rose.’ The coma became deeper. Now I felt powerless to help in any way; I could only be with her and watch her slipping away. On the Friday evening of the first of May I heard her speak her last word. She lifted up her hands and called out, ‘Waldorf.’ I left her at eight o’clock.
The next morning at seven Miss Wissie woke me to tell me that she was dead. I think perhaps she thought I would break down. ‘Don’t make it harder for me, Rose,’ she said. But it wasn’t really news and I was ready to withstand the shock. There was nothing more I could do at Grimsthorpe. I packed my belongings. I was going home. There was only one other thing I wanted while I was there: a last glimpse of my lady. ‘Shall I come in with you, Rose?’ Miss Wissie asked when I told her.
‘No thank you,’ I replied.
‘But aren’t you afraid?’
‘No, Miss Wissie,’ I said, ‘death is nothing to be afraid of.’
I went into the bedroom. She looked so beautiful, and so very peaceful. She had suffered so little. It was a good picture to take away with me. I had one other thing to take as well, a link with the past: ‘Madam’, my lady’s dog. Together we slipped quietly out of the house.
This then was the end of my life in service. During the next weeks I had time to take stock of myself. I was not dissatisfied as I looked back over my life. If complacency is necessarily a fault, then I was guilty of it. I had given her my best and I had got a lot back from doing it. I’d fulfilled my ambition, I’d travelled the world, met interesting people, made many friends and most important of all become a member of a wonderful family. These were the big blessings I could count and there were many more.
Of course I missed my lady, particularly to begin with. There was a great sense of loss that had not been immediately apparent on her death. But if this book does nothing else it must show the many memories that I had of her, and which I could recall over the years ahead of me. And the family were still there and have been to this day. ‘You will never want for anything, Rose,’ her ladyship often said to me. The children have seen to it that their mother’s word has been honoured. I was given a pension and instructed to ask for help if ever I wanted it. I think they will agree that I have made few demands on them. There is something else they have given me which has made my retirement the richer: their continued affection and interest. I visit them, they visit me. I am still one of the tribe.
1
Among the girls brought as companions of Doctor Ward, Christine Keeler visited Cliveden. Keeler was a London call girl and reputed mistress of a Russian spy. At Cliveden, she met John Profumo, Secretary of State for War, and a married man. An affair followed, leading to Profumo’s resignation after lying in the House of Commons, and a damaged reputation for the Government.