Page 8 - My Story (final)
P. 8

This was an anthology of stories and poems by well-known writers and so many of the stories and silly
               rhymes have stayed with me.


                                                   The rain did compel a
                                                   Young lady named Ella
                                                   To wait in a cellar.
                                                   A fella
                                                   Said, “Tella
                                                   “I’ll sella
                                                   “A yella umberella”

                       This was the book I turned to if I was poorly or had to stay in bed with a cold – did we really spend
               days in bed with colds?  I passed this book on to Helen, my eldest daughter, and she loved it, too and then
               it disappeared in one of our many moves.   I was browsing in a second-hand bookshop in Chiswick one
               day in about 2001 and came across Number Twelve Joy Street.  I took it to the counter and explained that
               I was really interested in Number Eleven and some years later I was passing the shop and the owner called
               me in, saying, “I found your book for you” and there it was!

                          We must have stayed in Hitchen until late 1943.  The Beales introduced us to their extended family
               and I can remember walking miles across the fields to Sandy and Biggleswade to join them for Sunday
               lunch.  We could have gone by bus, but I always threw up on buses, so it was easier to walk.  Indeed, I can
               remember going quite short trips by bus in London and my father having to stand holding me on the deck
               as you entered the bus, so I could get the fresh air and not throw up!

                        We loved Hitchen and the Beales, but London was quiet again and my mother decided it was safe
               to go back.  She had had a traumatic last few months with Jackie being desperately ill with what we now
               think was rheumatic fever.  The Beales were kindness itself, Mr. Beale carried Jackie down from the
               bedroom every evening so that she could join in the family meal, but I am sure my mother needed the
               support of her family.


                       She found us a rental in Clapton in the house of a blonde lady whose husband was in the army,
               and who later deserted.  She had a daughter, about my age called Sheila.  Sheila took dance lessons and
               soon had Jackie and I doing high kicks with her, like The Tiller Girls who were our radio city line up.  I
               remember entertaining my father’s family to one of our high kicking routines and wondering at the grins
               on their faces and stifled laughs.  I was a sturdy child and never had the legs for high kicks although Jackie
               and Sheila would have looked all right. To this day if I hear the song “Alice Blue Gown” it makes me grin.

                       My father’s family were strange.  My grandparents had had eleven children of whom two girls
               died in infancy.  My father was the fifth child, first son and after him was another girl and three boys.
               These three boys were the only children to go to secondary school and one of them, Nat, went on to the
               London School of Economics and earned a bachelors’ degree.  But the family was well spoken and well-
               read and all loved the theatre.  Only one of the sisters kept a husband, the parents of my cousin Stanley.
               Two were divorced and two never married.



























                                            Soldier Nat with Jackie and Ruth circa 1941

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