by Mary Arden
Signora suggested that this term it would be a good idea if we learned how to use the sewing machine, as she wanted us to try something a little more complicated than black-out curtains, which all of us had made already. I eventually managed to make myself a satin petticoat – although by the time it was finished, I’d grown another size up and it was too small for me – and the sewing teacher showed me how to put in a zip at the side so that it would fit. I was very proud of my zip petticoat, but had to admit that I was most probably better at knitting.
I was immensely proud of the little jacket and leggings that I’d knitted for Kay’s son in pretty turquoise wool. I then decided to knit my father a pair of socks for Christmas. I’d unpicked one of the socks twice, but it still turned out slightly longer than the other, which I hoped he wouldn’t notice. Jane’s knitting efforts resulted in the longest and most colourful scarf that I had ever seen, as she had used everyone else’s leftover balls of wool to make it. Signora called it ‘Joseph’s scarf of many colours!’
We were then all asked to make bed covers for the local children’s orphanage, not from knitted squares, but out of scraps of material. I wrote to Aunt Beth to ask her advice on colour schemes, what type of materials to use, and whether she’d be so kind as to look out for any old blankets or clothes in her local second-hand shop for me. I had no spare clothing coupons to buy new material, and knowing that all the coupons would be needed next year for my coming out clothes, Aunt Beth wrote back with the brilliant idea of looking for old cardigans and jumpers, where the elbows had gone through but the backs of the garments were still as good as new.
The waistcoat I’d made from some coffee-coloured material Aunt Beth had given me, and onto which I embroidered flowers, was quite a success, at least superficially, so long as you didn’t look at the underside. It had quite neat blanket stitches around the edges on the outside, but inside, it was a terrible tangle of knots, threads and different coloured wool, which no one saw. Even Signora turned a blind eye to its failures when we exhibited our efforts at the end of the term. As she said goodbye to me, she told me that she appreciated that I’d done my best. Having not wanted to come back at the beginning of term, I was now sad to leave and wept as I hugged her for the last time.
Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw when we arrived in London. We had all been talking excitedly about what we were going to do in the holidays, but as the train slowly pulled into Kings Cross station, a guard ran along the platform and told us to remain in our seats until a porter came to escort us.
When he finally came to get us he said, ‘Last night a huge bomb demolished a block of flats nearby. It’s a miracle the station ’ain’t been closed, but some ’ow we ’as to keep goin’. Can’t give in to those ruddy Germans can we?’
We decided to share a taxi to Jane’s house and then I could ring my parents to let them know what had happened and that I’d be getting a later train back to Woking than planned. Once we were in the taxi and on our way to St John’s Wood, we could see that the streets around the station were badly damaged; we drove past bombed-out buildings and burst water mains that gushed like rivers down the streets; and there were firemen and air-raid wardens everywhere. When we eventually arrived at Jane’s house, and explained what had happened her father paid the taxi driver and then said that he’d ring my parents for me to explain why I’d been delayed.
Over the next two weeks, with my cousin Marcus as my chaperone, we attended three country house parties, all of which were in freezing cold homes, two rather smart cocktail parties and my first Ball. It felt very strange, almost as if everyone was pretending the war wasn’t happening. But it wasn’t that people didn’t care, it was just that ‘Carrying On’ had now become a British virtue.
It was getting more and more difficult to find different outfits for me to wear for all the ‘coming out’ functions I was attending, as clothing coupons were so precious, so Aunt Beth suggested that we buy second-hand clothes from a couple of actresses, who lived in the flat above hers. I was a bit surprised at the selection when I saw what was on offer, because the girls’ unwanted clothes were actually old costumes that they no longer needed at the theatre, so it looked as though my only choices would be to attend my next Ball as a fairy queen or an ugly sister!
‘Don’t worry Mary!’ Aunt Beth said seeing the look on my face, ‘the next time you come to stay with me they will look very different.’
A week later I went to stay with her again and when she showed me what she had been able to do with the old costumes I could hardly believe my eyes at the transformation.
‘Aunt Beth, you are a genius!’ I exclaimed, giving her a big hug. ‘How on earth have you managed to change those old fancy dress clothes into such beautiful gowns?’
‘I used my magic wand!’ she giggled waving a needle and thread at me, ‘go and try them on, so that I can make the final alterations to make sure they fit you properly.’
As Aunt Beth started to stick pins all over the material, and in me, she described how she’d managed to redesign the garments, turning some of the worn cloth inside out, so it looked as good as new, and had then added some new trimmings and buttons, ‘which of course, are all my own ‘exclusive’ designs!’
She had not only made me four new dresses, but had also dyed two pairs of evening shoes to match. Now that I had a whole new wardrobe, I realised that I was actually starting to enjoy ‘coming out’, and for the first time I began to feel quite grown up. This was partly due to my recently acquired habit of smoking. My first attempt with a cigarette had resulted in a coughing fit, followed by a few hours of feeling that I might be sick at any minute. But determined to fit in with the older crowd, I managed to overcome my initial adverse reaction to nicotine and persevered.
When I told my father that I had taken up smoking, he gave me a small ladies’ silver cigarette case to use, saying that it might look a bit more sophisticated than my cardboard packet of fags!
I couldn’t wait to show it off, so at the next cocktail party I casually took it out of my handbag, flipped open the case, and slowly removed a cigarette, placing it between my lips, like I’d seen the film stars do. My new rather over-confident behaviour then vanished in a puff of smoke, or rather the lack of one, because I had forgotten to bring any matches. Suddenly, a very handsome young guard’s officer appeared at my side and asked if he could light my cigarette for me.
‘Thank you, I forgot to bring my matches,’ I said as he produced a lighter and lit my cigarette for me.
‘Sorry, I’m not very sophisticated,’ I confessed. ‘To be honest, I have only just started smoking.’
‘In that case, it sounds as if I am here just in time to offer my services as your advisor and protector for the evening: Captain Michael Kensingham at your service,’ he declared gallantly.
I smiled, amused by his warm manner. He then proceeded to offer me some very useful tips, ‘A lady should never light her own cigarette in public, smoke in the street, or at the dinner table.’
I thought that this was very funny, and immediately felt comfortable being with this lovely man.
‘Who was that?’ Marcus asked me, after Michael had left to talk to some of his friends.
‘Don’t worry Marcus, I am still missing Henry terribly, so the thought of being any more than just a friend with that man or anyone else for that matter, is just not on my mind.’
When it was time to leave, Michael came over to say goodbye, so I introduced him to Marcus and within a minute the two of them were chatting away like old friends.
A week later a parcel arrived for me, and inside I found a small jade cigarette holder and a packet of exotic black and gold Balkan Sobrani cigarettes. There was also a note that read, ‘I enjoyed meeting you and hope that these small gifts will make you feel a bit more sophisticated! Warmest regards, Michael.’
I could hardly wait to try one of the strange looking cigarettes, so later that evening after dinner in the drawing room with my parent
s, I took out one of the Sobranis from the silver case my father had given me, and after placing it in my jade holder, lit it. The room was immediately engulfed with strange smelling smoke and I started coughing uncontrollably – these cigarettes were much stronger than any I had ever smoked before. My parents looked up at me, and then at each other and then burst out laughing.
A week later, Marcus and I attended another ball, and after we had been there for about an hour I spotted a rather striking looking man wearing a smart uniform, whose face looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. I thought that he looked like a pirate, or at least like the ones I had seen in Pantomimes, like Captain Hook. I then noticed that he was looking at me with a slightly amused smile on his face. He then turned to Marcus, who was standing near him, whispered something in his ear, and after my cousin had whispered something back to him, they both looked straight at me and laughed. What on earth could they find so funny? Marcus and Captain Hook then started walking straight towards me.
‘You remember Charles Edham, don’t you, Mary?’ Marcus said. ‘He was the one that taught us both to sail when we were on holiday in Norfolk.’
So that’s why his face had looked so familiar. It was hardly surprising that I didn’t recognise him now, as it had been so many years since I had last seen him, but now happy memories of sailing on the Broads came flooding back and I remembered how fond I had been of him when I was a little girl.
‘Hello, Mary,’ Charles said looking deep into my eyes. ‘I have been looking forward to seeing you again.’
I suddenly found myself tongue-tied. The way he was looking at me made me feel weak at the knees.
‘Have you got your dance card with you?’ Charles asked me. I nodded and took the card out of my evening bag.
‘Good, well put me down for the supper dance and the last dance,’ he insisted, before giving me one last smile and moving on to join some of his friends.
‘Well that was kind of him,’ Marcus said, ‘after all those are the two most important dances of the evening.’
It wasn’t until I wrote Charles’ name on my dance card that I realised that I hadn’t said one word to him yet. He must have thought me very rude, or hopefully just very shy.
‘What did you think of Charles?’ Marcus asked breaking my trance.
‘I think he looks like a pirate,’ I whispered in reply.
Marcus looked at me as if he couldn’t believe his ears, and then laughed out loud, ‘I don’t believe it! Charles Edham is the best-looking man in the room, most of the girls here are openly drooling over him, and my dear cousin thinks he looks like a pirate, that’s priceless!’
It was another hour before I had my first dance with Charles and I was surprised at how good he was, so when it was over I complimented him on his footwork.
‘Are you saying that I’m not too bad for someone as ancient as me?’ he said laughing and then asked, ‘How old are you now, Mary?’
‘None of your Bee’s Wax!’ I replied laughing back, ‘what about you?’
‘A hundred and one,’ Charles answered, grinning, but thought that he must be about eight years older than me.
He then told me that as his regiment was on duty in London at the moment, he wondered if we could meet up with one another while I was in town for the Season. I said yes as long as he was willing to escort me to a dance or two if Marcus wasn’t available and I needed a partner.
‘Of course I would love to escort you, Mary,’ Charles replied gallantly, ‘but first of all let’s go to see a film or a play together one evening.’
‘I’d love to do that,’ I replied, and then asked, ‘Did you ever meet my Aunt Beth?’
Charles nodded, ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I did. She taught me how to play golf!’
‘I will give you her address and telephone number, as I am staying with her, so that way we can keep in touch.’
‘That would be fun,’ Charles said and then excused himself, as he went off to dance with one of the other girls who had his name on her dance card. I felt a pang of jealousy, which was ridiculous but I now wanted him all to myself.
Three dances later, the supper dance was called. It was a slow waltz and I felt Charles’s arms close tightly around me. Although I had danced with many other young men, at the various parties and Balls that I had attended over the past few weeks, I had never allowed them to hold me as close as Charles was now doing. I felt myself responding to him in a way that I hadn’t thought possible since Henry had died, and although I still missed him very much, I realised that perhaps it was time to let him go and allow someone else into my heart.
When the dance was over, we all flowed out to help ourselves to the buffet supper set out in the conservatory and dining room.
‘Hungry?’ Charles asked.
‘Starving’ I replied, grinning, ‘especially after all that dancing.’
A grand buffet such as the one set out that evening was a real treat and something that, probably, few of us had enjoyed since war had been declared. I greedily helped myself to whatever I thought looked appetising, which was almost everything, and put one of each on my plate and then some on Charles’s plate.
For half an hour, Charles and I sat at a table chatting and enjoying the delicious savoury food, but when the puddings were served, he only took a plate of rather boring vanilla ice-cream, while I chose a plate of extremely rich and creamy chocolate éclairs and some meringues. Charles, realising his mistake immediately, started helping himself from my plate.
‘Hey, get your own!’ I exclaimed.
‘I am!’ he replied, and so not to be outdone, I helped myself to some of his ice cream, which made us both giggle like school children. Marcus then joined us and said, ‘You two seem to be getting on well,’ Yes, we are I realised happily.
As the night progressed, the light in the ballroom was getting dimmer and dimmer. I knew that some of the men liked to take advantage of the darkness to steal a kiss or two from their dance partners, and I suddenly felt a surge of panic. But I need not have worried, because instead of trying to kiss me when the last dance was over, Charles pushed me gently away and said, ‘I think that I am either too tall or you are too short for us to be able to kiss one another without one of us falling over and making a spectacle of ourselves!’
To my surprise, I was rather disappointed, and blurted out, ‘Perhaps I could stand on a chair?’
‘That sounds like a splendid idea’ Charles responded, laughing, ‘but maybe we should save that experiment for another time when there are no spectators around?’
Suddenly everyone started clapping. The Ball was now over and it was time for the guests to leave. Marcus and I said goodbye to Charles and we took a taxi back to Aunt Beth’s. I smiled the whole way home.
That Christmas I decided to spend more time with my little brother William, as it was just going to be the two of us at home this year. After Peter had finished his studies at Cambridge, he had been head-hunted and was now training as an Intelligence Officer.
I decided to make home-made Christmas presents this year, and William told me he planned to ‘renovate’ a few old things as his gifts, which was typically practical of him. And rationing was now more important than ever. My mother told me that we were very lucky to have our own hens, as everyone else could only buy three eggs a month. Having a big vegetable patch was also a blessing, so when it was William or my turn to dig up potatoes or cabbages we never complained.
Earlier that month, the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbour, which as awful as it must have been, now meant that the Americans were with us, and there was a feeling that the war had turned. My father told us that he thought the Allied forces would win eventually, but at great cost, which was an awful thought.
Christmas Day was the quietest we had had for many years, but we managed to have an enjoyable day. William and I had made paper-chains and hung them around the house and we had collected enough holly to not only deck our halls but the neighbours as well. In the evening, I called Jane
and we spoke for over an hour about all the parties I had attended. I could tell that she was a bit envious.
On Boxing Day I went over to Kay’s and spent time playing with Richard, while she did the ironing. As she was now pregnant with her second child, she appreciated any help I could give her. As her husband Jack was away helping putting out fires wherever he and his team were needed, she didn’t see him as much as she liked, so I tried to spend as much time as I could spare with her. I was also helping out in the hospital most days, which was such a contrast to all the elegant parties I had recently been going to.
On the morning of my birthday, Agnes called me to the phone and whispered, ‘There’s a Lord Edham on the phone for you Miss Mary.’
For a moment I had to think who Lord Edham was, and then realised it must be Charles. I had forgotten that he had a title.
‘Happy Birthday Mary!’ he exclaimed.
‘How did you know?’ I asked him.
‘When I rang Marcus for your parents number, he told me,’ he explained.
He told me that he had spent Christmas with his parents in Gloucestershire and then asked me if I would like to come up for a few days after New Year, to meet his family and go riding with him. I said that I would love to, but that I would have to ask my parents permission.
When my father came home that evening, I asked him if I could take Charles up on his offer. My mother was a bit concerned, as she knew that Charles was quite a bit older than me, but my father came up with a good idea and said that he would ring Uncle Arthur and Aunt Felicity, our other cousins who lived in Gloucestershire, to ask them if they would be willing to put me up for a few days, as they lived quite near Charles’s family estate and knew them very well. After he put the phone down, he said that they were happy to have me for as long as I wanted, so I rang Charles back to let him know I was going to come. He sounded very pleased.