Henrietta Sees It Through (2 page)

‘Oh, please don't bother, Mrs Savernack!' I cried.

But Mrs Savernack, ignoring me, was squinting along the edge of the lawn which I had just done. ‘My dear Henrietta,' she said, ‘this is frightfully crooked,' and she started on a new line of her own while I pranced beside her uttering little cries of frustration and distress. Lady B remarked that our lawn was looking much smaller than it used to.

She started on a new line of her own

‘There you are,' said Mrs Savernack, and she handed me back the cutter, which I grasped feverishly in my arms like a mother receiving back her child from the hands of strangers. Then she stood on the rake, which flew up and hit the back of her head - but Lady B's eye was upon me and I never even smiled.

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

H
ENRIETTA

 

 

 

February 25, 1942

M
Y
D
EAR
R
OBERT

Whenever we meet Visitors they say to us, ‘And how does your British Restaurant work down here?'

‘There isn't one,' we reply, hanging our heads.

‘What! No British Restaurant?' they cry, looking at us askance as though we were the West Country Quislings. ‘What you all need is a stick of bombs to wake you up.'

Those people here whose homes have actually been destroyed by bombs, or who have suffered loss and anxiety on account of the war, take these remarks very much to heart, and at last feeling ran so high that it was decided to hold a public meeting and discuss the subject thoroughly.

We always hold our meetings here at half-past seven, which is the hour when Charles staggers into his home with a white face, demanding whisky and a hot meal, and likes to find his wife sitting by the fire mending his pyjamas. Bill and the Linnet say that to complete the picture I ought to be rocking a cradle with my foot, but when they repeated this to Charles he shuddered and said ‘God forbid!'

When I arrived at the meeting at seven thirty-five, having left an apologetic note for Charles propped against the whisky decanter, the hall was nearly full. Lady B was there, representing the Women's Institute, Mrs Savernack representing the Miniature Rifle Club, Mrs Whinebite the Mothers' Union, Admiral Marsdon the Urban District Council, Colonel Simpkins the Specials, Faith the A.R.P., and the Conductor the Women's Choir. I could tell a lot of other people were representing other things, too, by the solemn expression on their faces. The W.V.S., representing the W.V.S., made a nice green patch in the middle of the hall. My neighbour whispered to me that their uniform had been designed by a famous couturier but, be that as it may,
it certainly is nice, and proves once for all that uniform can be becoming as well as serviceable.

At twenty to eight the Admiral opened proceedings by saying that the meeting had been called with a view to discussing the possibility of starting a British Restaurant. Then he sat down and there was a long and embarrassing silence. At the end of five minutes little Mrs Simpkins, unable to bear it any longer, pretended her nose was bleeding and left the hall.

Then Lady B stood up, amid a burst of hysterical cheering, and said she thought a British Restaurant would be a good idea, whereupon Mrs Savernack jumped to her feet and said Lady B was one of her oldest friends and she was sorry to contradict her in public, but that she, Mrs Savernack, was quite sure it would
not
be a good idea, especially if it were true that the rifle range was going to be taken over as a kitchen.

The Admiral said the point was, who would run it? All eyes were turned on the W.V.S. Eyes always are turned on the W.V.S. when somebody asks this sort of question. I sometimes wonder if they get tired of it.

The Head W.V.S. rose to say that they had a scheme worked out all ready to be put into use.

Faith said Lord Woolton had told us that it was a way in which we might augment our rations.

I said I would be very glad to augment our rations when the Linnet came home for her day off.

Mrs Whinebite turned on me, and with blazing eyes asked if I realised that it would mean the break-up of Home Life, and I said ‘Why?'

Everybody became very angry. It had been a long and trying winter, and all the pent-up irritations of months were suddenly let loose. Shouts were heard, fists were shaken, and
people who up till then hadn't cared a hoot whether we had a British Restaurant or not found themselves fighting passionately on one side or the other.

‘Ladies and gentlemen - please!' said the Admiral.

‘It's nothing but a ramp to deprive the poor tradesman of his due.'

‘The Wrong People would use it.'

‘I'm sure
I
don't want a British Restaurant.'

‘If you had no maids and three evacuees instead of a P.G. at four guineas a week, you might.'

‘Women ought to learn to shoot instead of cooking.'

‘I know the Sanctity of the Home means nothing to Bohemians like you, Mrs Brown,' said Mrs Whinebite, who seemed to hold me responsible for the whole thing.

‘Henrietta is
not
a Bohemian!'

‘Yes I am!'

‘Ladies and gentlemen,
please
!'

A little man who had been standing by the platform, holding up his hand for at least five minutes, suddenly commanded silence. ‘I think it is only fair to inform the meeting,' he said, ‘that the Chamber of Commerce has voted unanimously against a British Restaurant.'

After that we all went home quietly, because, of course, it's not the slightest good trying to run a restaurant without the co-operation of the tradesmen.

Next morning in the Street I saw a vaguely familiar face smiling at me.

‘Hullo, Mrs Brown!'

‘How nice to see you down here again,' I said. This is what I always say to Visitors while I am trying to remember who they are.

‘You remember my arm?'

‘Of course.'

‘The Sanctity of the Home means nothing to Bohemians like you'

‘My doctor was absolutely astonished at the result. He said he couldn't have done it better himself. You might tell Doctor Brown.'

‘I will!'

‘Well, how are you getting on? Of course, one simply wouldn't know there was a war on down here.'

‘Wouldn't one?'

‘How is your British Restaurant working?'

‘Look!' I said. ‘There's Lady B. You remember Lady B, don't you?'

‘Why, yes!' cried the Visitor, and dived across the road, while I slipped into the chemist's to have a little chat about soap.

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

H
ENRIETTA

 

 

 

March 11, 1942

M
Y
D
EAR
R
OBERT

Faith has resigned from the A.R.P. and joined the W.A.A.Fs. She said she simply couldn't bear reading about Germany's stupendous preparations for their spring offensive and go on living more or less comfortably at home any longer. We all think this is a tremendous gesture on her part, because, of course, she isn't as young as she was, and has always lived a rather luxurious sort of life. The Conductor, naturally, is distraught, and is moving heaven and earth to get into the Air Force, which he hasn't the faintest chance of doing. Faith was rather worried about her little W.A.A.F. hat at first. She said it was years since she had worn a hat really
on
her head, but she has got used to it now, and the result is a fair treat.

Lady B and I are wildly jealous. We, too, have guilty feelings about living in our homes, and last week Lady B went and offered herself to the A.T.S. ‘I am seventy-five,' she said, ‘and I know you are thinking I would look ridiculous in uniform. But I'm perfectly healthy, good- tempered, and amenable to discipline. I'm not suggesting I should harness myself to a gun and pull it up hills, but I am suggesting that I might sit in a hostel and do the mending and the catering, and keep a motherly eye on the girls. I like girls. I've had two daughters of my own, and I know how to talk to them.'

The A.T.S. shook their heads sadly. ‘All you say is perfectly true,' they said, ‘except about you looking ridiculous in uniform, because we think you'd look very nice.' (Lady B said afterwards that it must be true about the Recruiting Officers being chosen for their tact.) ‘We'd love to have you, but the age-limit
is
forty-five, you know.'

Lady B bumbled sadly back in the bus, and called in at our house on the way home for comfort. Charles was so sorry
for her that he gave her a glass of our last bottle of sherry, which Lady B accepted without demur, and that just shows how low her spirits were.

‘Personally, I'm delighted that you were turned down,' said Charles, handing her a glass, ‘though I think they were fools not to jump at you. You'd be worth your not inconsiderable weight in gold to any hostel, Lady B, darling. But, personally, I feel that this war is quite dreary enough down here without having you taken away from us.'

‘Dear Charles!' said Lady B.

‘Look at Henrietta brooding away in that chair,' said Charles. ‘I know exactly what she's going to say.'

‘What?' I said.

‘That you want to go and make munitions.'

‘Well, I do.'

‘O.K.,' said Charles. ‘Just find a woman to come and live in this house who is prepared to do the housekeeping, and look after me without getting on my nerves, and cook when Evensong
*
is out, and fuss over Bill and the Linnet when they come home, and not mind if I don't speak when I'm tired, and do two hours in the garden every afternoon, and all without pay. Then you can go and get ill in a munitions factory whenever you like.' Charles recklessly poured himself out a second glass of sherry and tossed it off.

There was a long silence, and then suddenly, like a blinding flash, a Thought came into my head. ‘Lady B!' I said.

Lady B and Charles stared at each other, and then Charles said in an awed voice: ‘I can't imagine anything nicer.'

‘Nor can I,' said Lady B, and he flew, as they say, into her arms and was folded to her breast.

‘I hope you won't mind if I come home on leave sometimes,' I said bitterly.

But Lady B was frowning and pushing Charles away from her. ‘Charles,' she said, ‘I couldn't manage the garden. I'm a strong, healthy woman, but I could
not
do two hours gardening every afternoon.'

Charles looked at me doubtfully. ‘Perhaps I'd better keep her,' he said, as though I were a new-born kitten.

He flew into her arms

So here I am, Robert, still in the Old Home, and practising the negative virtues of the wartime housekeeper. I'd rather be making munitions.

I have had a present. Two pairs of real silk stockings from Ceylon. When I opened the parcel I nearly fainted. They were so lovely I couldn't make up my mind to wear them, and the Linnet began to enquire about them in a very meaning sort of way, so that I took them out of my stocking drawer and locked them away in my desk for safety.