Aprons and Silver Spoons: The heartwarming memoirs of a 1930s scullery maid (42 page)

On board HMS
Clyde
in
1954, sailing back from Singapore. I’m sat to the right wearing a scoop-neck
dress. Timothy was on board another ship that had set sail weeks earlier. As an
officer’s wife you were given first-class service, and had servants to run
your bath, warm up your toilet seat and pour your gin and tonic.

I suppose you could say
I’ve been in the unique position of having been on both ends of the social
scale,
downstairs and upstairs, but believe me, I’m in no
doubt which was the more fun place to be. The ten years I spent in domestic service were
some of the happiest times of my life and have made me the woman I am today.

Starting as a scullery maid and working up
to cook instilled in me confidence, a good work ethic, self-esteem and pride in my work.
How many other professions today give young people those feelings?

It taught me to think on my feet, not to be
reliant on anyone and not to be afraid of hard work or finding fun.

I can cook and I can count and those two
skills, along with a willingness to work hard and the love of a good man, have carried
me through my whole life. Service may seem like a class struggle to some and slavery to
others, but to me it represented adventure and freedom beyond my wildest dreams.

From my humble beginnings as a scullery maid
to my dream job as a cook, I owe domestic service a debt of gratitude. I’ll
keep on believing that until the final gong sounds.

Here’s me at the ripe old age of ninety-six. My
face may be wrinkled and my hair faded to silver, but I think you can tell by the
twinkle in my eye that I still find the fun in life.

Me as a baby being held by my indomitable Granny Esther.
I was always her favourite.

That’s me on the far right, aged ten, being
awarded first prize at school sports day in 1926. I was the fastest runner and the
highest jumper in the whole area – I always thought I was better than anyone else
back then!

Downham Market Baptist Church members on a day out in
the 1920s. I’m in the middle, behind the boy in the white shorts.

Number 24 Cadogan Square, Knightsbridge, Mr
Stocks’s London house. We’d come up here every year for the
London season.

A very desirable postcode – all the gentry had a London
house for the season.

My dear friend Flo Wadlow, the kitchen maid I
worked with at Woodhall and Cadogan Square, in her
uniform in a previous job. She was my partner in crime and a gentle, kind and loyal
friend. We met in 1931 and we’re still friends to this day.

On the left is Louis Thornton (in the white apron), Mr
Stocks’s second chauffeur. A good deal of time was spent lusting after
this handsome man. On the right is Ernie Bratton, Captain Eric’s valet, a
lovely fella who took me to the Chelsea Arts Ball.

A plaque in Woodhall’s church graveyard to
commemorate Captain Manby, previous occupant of Woodhall and inventor of a rocket
device used to save the crews of shipwrecked ships.

Mr Stocks, my boss and the owner of Woodhall. A finer
gentleman you’d be hard-pressed to find. Unlike some of the gentry, he was
kind and generous and a real old-fashioned gent. We didn’t have much to do
with him, mind you, but whenever I did see him he would be striding about the place
in his plus fours, flat cap on his head and a Labrador trotting by his side.

This is the back of Woodhall. Can you see the
fireescape ladder Flo and I used to sneak out of the servants’ quarters to
go to the dance?

Magnificent Woodhall, a beautiful listed Tudor home in
the Norfolk countryside.

Here’s Flo again. She always had a smile on
her face, no matter how hard we worked or how tired we got.

The young lad in the back row, far left, is loyal
farmhand George Thornton, Louis’s younger brother, aged about seventeen. I
fear I broke that poor man’s heart.

Mr Orchard, the snooty butler who kept a watchful eye
on me and my shenanigans. He was always giving me a telling-off but, looking back, I
probably deserved it!

Me in the grounds of Woodhall, in a rare moment off
duty, aged about eighteen.

This is beautiful Wallington Hall where I worked as a
cook. The ancient shooting lodge, set in 600 acres of private grounds, is mentioned
in the Domesday Book. It even had its own resident ghost.

Here I am, a fresh-faced cook, aged about twenty-two.

Me and Timothy on our wedding day, Saturday 5 November
1938. We’re outside my mother’s farmhouse, where we held the
reception. Only the day before I’d been cooking for politicians and
VIPs.

This is me, a newly-wed, just before the outbreak of
the Second World War. Every so often my husband
would take me out to dances and I’d dress up
beautifully, always in a hat and pearls.

The man of my dreams, Timothy, on active service in
India, where he was stationed for most of the war. I worried about him out there
more than I did about the threat of invasion.

Larking about shortly after the birth of my son, Timothy
James, in 1946.

Me and my son, Timothy James, aged two. We had our
photos taken at Selfridges for half a crown. The war was over but rationing was
still biting, so photos like this were a small, affordable pleasure.

On board HMS
Clyde
in 1954, sailing back from
Singapore. I’m sat to the right wearing a scoop-neck dress. Timothy was on
board another ship that had set sail weeks earlier. As an officer’s wife
you were given first-class service, and had servants to run your bath, warm up your
toilet seat and pour your gin and tonic.

With grateful thanks to:

Orion Books for allowing reproduction of recipes and excerpts from
Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management
.

Universal Media for the reproduction of excerpts from the film
Frankenstein
.

Friends of Mosley (FOM) and Mr Max Mosley for allowing reproduction of Oswald Mosley’s speeches.

Andrew Luddington, Mr and Mrs Charlesworth of Woodhall, Tian and John Plaxton of Wallington Hall, Flo Wadlow (author of
Over a Hot Stove
, Mousehold Press, 2007) and Alan Childs (editor of
Over a Hot Stove
) for their help in the history, research and photography of Woodhall, Wallington Hall, Norfolk, and Cadogan Square, Knightsbridge.

Katherine Stone, PhD student, War Studies Department, King’s College London.

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First published 2013

Text and photographs copyright © Mollie Moran, 2013

Cover image: Mary Evans Picture Library / SIMON ROBERTS

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Some names have been changed to protect identities

Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd, Falkirk, Stirlingshire

ISBN: 978-0-718-19718-6