Mother Knew Best

by Dorothy Scannell

  The chapel girls arranged for Marjorie and me to spend a holiday near Sheemess in a lovely house owned by the Chapel. It was a holiday home for young people on the sea front and it cost very little to go there. Sister Annie thought we had deserted the Church and gave us a ticking off. But we still went on the holiday. We met two young men on the sea front and some months later I became engaged to one of them. His parents lived in Yorkshire, he was about to leave the R.A.F. and one week-end he arranged for us to visit them in the country. He bought me a large basket filled with English peaches, for the journey. I offered him a peach but he refused and so—peaches always do something to me—I ate them all. As I was finishing the last one he said he would have a peach after all. I felt the greedy pig I was and although he said he was glad I enjoyed them, I thought he looked a bit shaken.

  His parents were charming people; his father worked on the local newspaper. They had a lovely house, and his mother fed me on roast turkey (it wasn’t Christmas), and beautiful trifles and pastries. I think I was in love with the thought of being an engaged girl and the exotic food, more than I was with him, but he was quite good looking. He was an engineer by profession, and although not very vital or lively, I thought I should have a calm life with him. The next day he took me to see his grandmother. She was wearing a sari and had a little jewel fixed in her nose. I was surprised, to say the least of it. He was blond although he had dark brown eyes, and his sister’s children were blond too. I would have to tell Mother because there were such things as throwbacks and I didn’t want to be different from the rest of the family. His mother gave a party for our engagement and everyone was happy for Thomas. He was a champion shot and thought a lot of a little silver gun he had.

  As the weeks went on I began to feel depressed about getting married and began to be bored with my Thomas, and I wrote him that I thought I had been too hasty, with regrets I returned his ring. My brother Arthur thought I was playing too fast and loose with men’s affections (Thomas was in the middle of a job on Arthur’s house at Beckenham), but I didn’t care. Thomas wrote and said if he couldn’t have me no one else should. This worried me when I thought about the little silver pistol, but I thought it was nonsense. He lived in Yorkshire, I would never see him again.

  At that time I was working for the London Orphan School and coming out into Eldon Street one lunch-time, there was Thomas, with his hand suspiciously in the pocket of his coat. Bravely I ignored him and swept on. I knew he was following me and I thought of all the people passing to and fro—they did not know that tragedy was stalking so near. I was afraid to turn back and plead with him; he might shoot me in my bosom, I’d rather be shot in the back I decided. I crossed the road to the A.B.C. and as I entered the restaurant, I decided I must live and I threw myself flat on the floor of the tea shop just as a waitress was placing a plate of poached eggs in front of an elderly woman. She looked surprised to see me prostrate and looking at me but speaking to the customer she said, ‘Are you the lightly done one?’ and because suddenly I was so delighted to be alive, I started to laugh at the waitress’s air of tired irritability and the elderly spinsterish woman, ‘the lightly done one.’ I think it was assumed I was lying on the floor because I had caught my foot in the mat. I glanced out of the door and saw my avenger jumping on to a no. 11 bus. No. 11 was always my lucky number.

  With the breaking of my engagement and the disapproval of all and sundry, except my parents, I was free to circulate again. I had been a bit disappointed that Thomas had not said I could keep my engagement ring as a memento when I returned it to him, but it convinced me that he had not truly loved me. Thus I eased my conscience.

  I went to parties with Marjorie. The craze then was for all-night parties, much to Mother’s disgust, but she had such faith in Marjorie that she thought so long as she was with Dolly this worrisome daughter would be safe. I went out with so many young men from then on that I worried no more about being on the shelf. There was a jewellery salesman in a pearl grey homburg hat and grey spats, a Humphrey Bogart sort of chappie, not my type at all, possibly that was why he fell for me. I had one setback to my pride. We had been to an all-night party, there were no such things as orgies, then, of course. We just played games and when we became tired, the lights would be put out and we cuddled up in a chair or some nook with the young man of our choice. We only ever kissed, but it was very enjoyable and when dawn broke we would have breakfast and arrive home to sleep until the afternoon.

  At one party one young man asked to speak to me in the garden for a moment. I went eagerly, I was in demand these days, I thought. He said it was his one desire in life to possess me, and in a round about way I thought he was making an appointment that very night to be the bailiff. In a firm and dignified manner I told him he was a disgusting person, he must know I was not that sort of girl. He then said he only offered me a night’s delight, and I should think it over carefully, as he knew it was the only chance I would ever have of such an offer. I knew he meant for himself and all mankind. I was speechless at the insult but secretly worried in case it was true and I couldn’t see myself as others saw me. I thought, it would be better to be a Nun with no worries, just to live in a lovely garden and think beautiful thoughts, and never meet up with proposals that were not very nice. And they could walk along the road without disgrace if their drawers fell down, for their voluminous skirts would hide their accidents.

  Then I met John the second. He was such a gentle creature, as safe as houses my mother would have said. We would walk to Blackwall Pier in the dusk of evening and sit on a seat over-looking the lovely river and he would hold my hand, kiss me, and be in another world. His eyes would be closed and he was gone. He was no bother at all and it was very pleasant. His kiss was really sweeter than wine, and I could, while this was in progress, gaze out at the lights on the river, listen to the lap-lap of the water and the barges nudging against each other. The moon would rise and light up the water with silver, John was in his heaven, and I could think about all sorts of other things. If I’d had a book full of dictation from a boss that evening I would get all the difficult parts clear in my mind, I planned my next outfit, and so on.

  I would have been sitting on the pier for ever if Marjorie hadn’t discovered a tennis club we could join, although at that time we had barely hit a ball with a racquet. It was in the playground of a school at Plaistow, and we were moving up in the world now. We bought tennis frocks and hold-alls and left for the club every Saturday after lunch. The clubhouse was the infants’ cloakroom and the two courts were bumpy and uneven tarmac. One had a drain in the middle. Our tennis was abominable at first but we laughed and had fun every Saturday.

  And my elegant young man, of the slightly bent legs, was a member. It was hate at first sight, well, on his part. I still desired him, but he was such a good tennis player he could have been a champion if he’d had the opportunity, and it must have been annoying for him to wait for a court while four giggling girls were rabbiting about. Several girls had their eye on him, he was so aloof and unattainable. One very pretty girl I knew he liked made the mistake of confiding in her mother her desire for this young man. She was in comfortable circumstances and Mama bought two theatre tickets suggesting her daughter invite the young man, saying the tickets were complimentary ones. I think he was on the point of asking this girl for a date himself, but as soon as she made her suggestion of the trip to the theatre, he was away like a startled fawn. Well, it didn’t show like that, but as a student of human nature I knew it when he politely refused the trip to the theatre.

  I had to play my cards more carefully. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, I couldn’t cook and couldn’t ask mother to make dainty cakes for the tennis club refreshments; in her book one didn’t ask a man for anything, or let him know one’s desires. Cooking was out and he looked as though he never ate in any case. What other domestic delight could I think of? Then one day I heard him admire a tennis pullover another player was wearing. My knitting
was almost as poor as my cooking, but some girls knitted for the sheer pleasure of it. If I knitted a pullover for him I could casually say I just happened to have some knitting on hand. The elegant young man was called Charles. He had a large good-looking quiet friend, Alfred, who had his eyes shyly on Marjorie, and Marjorie, to help me, said she would knit a pullover for Alfred, a pair would look more of a club member’s gesture than a single gift would. The latter might appear to have an ulterior motive. Someone showed me how to do cable stitch and join three colours of wool round the neck for I only knew the tying-a-knot-in-the-wool way. Marjorie’s garment was all white and quickly done. Mine took a long time, and as I could never make up my mind about quantities or measurements, always afraid I should spoil the ship for a ha’porth of tar, I kept adding to the length.

  Finally it was completed and the whole family, for once, admired my handiwork. Marjorie just popped her pullover in a bag, but mine was a work of love for a special person, an ensnarement present. I bought a presentation box, layers of tissue, drove my family mad packing and unpacking it to make it look professional, and jumped down Mother’s throat when she gently suggested she would squeeze it very carefully through warm soap flakes for me. I stood over her like nemesis while she pressed it under a damp cloth. The great Saturday arrived for the presentation. Marjorie squashed her bag in her tennis holdall, one of the boys tied mine up as though it had come from Harrods and we set off, much to Mother’s relief and amusement—relief to get me out of the house with the thing, amusement because Father had said the pullover was so weighty the young man would have to be mighty strong to keep it in a vertical position.

  The whole club knew we were knitting these pullovers and after the handing-out ceremony, with the right amount of shy casualness from me, we all sat in deck chairs and waited for Charlie and Alfred to reappear, as Adonises. Chas had wanted to pay me for the wool, but I airily said it was some I had by me. (Years later in a moment of temper he told me he felt I wanted the money for the wool really.)

  One young man came rushing out after a few minutes and he was laughing, I couldn’t think why. Then he said, ‘They’re coming,’ and then I knew why, for the whole of the club became hysterical. Alf’s pullover hardly fitted across his broad chest and was as short as a miniature bolero. Chas’s creation, my labour of love, sweat and toil, came down past his knees and it was full enough for a maternity frock. The two young men took the poses of male models, accentuating the comedy of the situation. Marjorie was choking with laughter too, and in me rose a feeling so murderous towards this creature I had suffered for, that I wished for an axe to cleave him in two. I said casually, although I was choking with misery, that I could see it needed a little alteration and I stuffed it in my holdall. Silence greeted me on my arrival home. Mother had known it was too big but she couldn’t advise me. I wanted to be on the safe side, and of course, I never listened to reason. Well I listened to advice but I never took it.

  At every opportunity after that I had a dig at Charles and since I was quicker-tongued than he, I got great satisfaction from this. He was sensible enough not to ask how the pullover was getting on.

  Came the day of the tennis-club outing, we were all going to the sea by coach. I had seen in a magazine a beautiful picture of a hand-knitted bathing-costume. The wool, a new invention, would remain unaffected by sea water. It was very expensive but I decided I would cut a dash, this time working strictly to measurement. I gave up my precious books and night after night worked on this creation. With my gingery hair went a milk white skin of body. No one of course had ever seen this except Mother and my sisters, but I was the only one in the family with this whiteness and it was remarked on. In my jade green and white bathing-suit, Chas would feel overcome, and I could be suitably offhand with him.

  The suit fitted beautifully and the weather was so hot I thought I would just wear a frock over it. I wouldn’t be going in the sea, I couldn’t swim, just a few awkward strokes. No, I would drape myself on the beach for his admiration. Mother was horrified that this was to be the whole of my outfit and so I left by the front door letting her assume I had gone upstairs to make myself more respectable.

  When we arrived at the seaside everybody made for the sea, so there was no one left to admire me and I was persuaded to come into the water just to frolic. The weather was so hot I would dry off in the sun afterwards. I went into the sea which was lovely and warm, Marjorie was Australian-crawl-ing in the distance, always a strong and expert swimmer. Alfred was splashing about and I thought I would swim to him and splash him. His look became very nasty and he shouted, ‘Get away, get away,’ but still I went on chasing him, when suddenly two hands grabbed me round the knees and dragged me under the water. I was choking and struggling and fighting to get to the surface when I heard Marjorie’s frantic voice. ‘Keep under the water until I can help you, your costume’s stretched and you look naked.’ So much for the expensive wool. Marjorie helped a crestfallen and miserable sister back to the beach, the costume which Marjorie was holding in a bunch round my neck was also down almost to my ankles. Again hysteria from the club, including Chas. Again I wished for an axe to cleave him in two.

  It was difficult to know what to be done, embarrassment all round, for I couldn’t go home naked under a frock. Suppose the wind blew. Then a young man appeared from some bushes and handed me his pants. ‘It’s the best I can do,’ he said. He was a young man to whom I was always very condescending, yet he was the one to help me in my trouble. I came home in the warm male garment to be met by a Mother who was disgusted. She assumed I had played ‘fast and loose’ and she almost choked to find I had worn a pair of man’s pants. The fact that he had taken them off for me to wear suggested to her something so depraved that for the first time in my life she looked as though she wanted to slap me. I was in tears. What a rotten day, what a rotten homecoming. Why did everything turn into a calamity for me? Then I thought of the thing which would make mother happy and relieved again. She would know she had a respectable daughter again, that I was aware of the proprieties. ‘I put John’s pants on back to front, Mum, you’ll be pleased to know.’ It was as though I had dropped a bombshell and confirmed all her dark suspicions. She choked and said she never thought she’d live to see the day, etc., etc. What had I done wrong now ? Of course I had mentioned the ‘opening’, always a necessary, and apparently evil, part of a man’s apparel.

  Chapter 20

  Holy Honeymoon

  Charles and I were still distant but polite enemies, then on New Year’s Eve he suggested it would be a good idea to see the New Year in up in the City. Although I was on my own when he asked me I knew he meant all the gang and so I passed the word around. I thought he looked a bit surprised when he met about twelve of us at the top of the Grove but we started off in fine spirits. None of us had any money but we liked walking. I was in a mood to see humour in everything and our laughter carried us along through the East End into the West End. We were walking back through Fleet Street when the unhappy silence of Chas made me remark, ‘Cheer up, if you see the New Year in with such a straight face you’ll be miserable all the year.’ Whereupon to my frightened surprise and the startled amazement of the gang, he grabbed hold of me and dragged me across Fleet Street.

  He ran with me up a little side turning where we knocked the lid off a dustbin, startling but pleasing some thin-looking cats, until finally tired with running I followed him like a squaw to the 23 bus stop, and he was silent until we reached my house. By the twitching of the lace curtains I knew that Mother (ostrich-like she always thought herself invisible and I never told her otherwise), was already ensconced in the public gallery. My caveman began utterance. ‘Everything is an almighty joke to you isn’t it? You knew I wanted to be alone with you and you humiliated me by inviting all the crowd. Well that’s it, I will not put myself in this position again.’ Humbly (that would annoy Mother but she could only see not hear in her theatre box), I said, ‘This is so sudden,’ which was the wrong reply. B
ut finally I reassured Charles that I really had no idea how he felt and that I would be very happy to meet him alone on our next date.

  Thus it came to pass, my fate was decided, and I was certain that from then on our love would run a smooth course.

  Chas had worked all his working life at an exporters in Farringdon Street, but had progressed, if he had progressed at all, very slowly. He had been conscientious, attending night school regularly and was the proud possessor of all the shipping certificates necessary for him to become an import and export clerk. His firm, however, were connected through the management with a church at Purley in Surrey, the organist at this church also holding a position of trust with the firm and it seemed to be staffed by members of the congregation. Since we were serious there seemed no prospects for my future bride-groom at his firm and he looked elsewhere for a job in shipping. Luck was against us for there was a slump on at the time and a friend of his suggested he learn to be a waiter. The work was hard and long, the wages twelve shillings per week but the tips could be very worthwhile, and so, for love, he took this terrible job which I thought was tantamount to slavery.

  He had very little time off for courting and I would go to his restaurant and spend a few hours there two evenings a week. I resented having to pay for my courting, although I enjoyed the food, and I was getting fatter through eating it. Chas was getting thinner, if that were possible. He was long hours on his feet, and the staff food was vile, quite different from what was served in the restaurant, but he was a good waiter, deft and handsome in his uniform. Things that happened to him there amused me greatly, but were tragedies to him, and it was difficult not to laugh at the expression on his face when mishaps occurred.