Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor (21 page)

‘“Try the top floor and knock on every door until you come to his,” was suggested.

‘This I did. Grinning faces appeared and I received comments like, “Go away, you annoy me,” “Your looks revolt me” and “Never heard of him, my good man.”

‘Finally by threats and perseverance I found the room and achieved the purpose of my visit, leaving with a pair of trousers and two pairs of shoes. On my return, halfway down the passage, doors suddenly opened and I was ambushed by a dozen boys who chased me downstairs with a rain of blows from hockey sticks, cricket bats and umbrellas. When at last I reached the car I explained to Bert Jeffries what had happened. Unsympathetically he roared with laughter. “You were lucky,” he said, “they usually de-bag outsiders like you who come on a clothes and boots check.”

‘When I returned I reported the incident to Mr Lee and told him that never again would I venture near the place. He too was unfeeling: “You’ll be all right next time, you won’t have to make inquiries, thereby finding it unnecessary to knock on the boys’ doors and advertising your presence.”

‘I stuck to my guns though and when the next visit came round another footman took my place. Like Bert Jeffries, I saw no reason to inform him what to expect. He gave a better account of himself than I did, however, and gave as good as if not better than he got and returned to Cliveden with nothing more than a badly battered top hat.’

It was after her children had reached the age of puberty that Lady Astor seemed to lose her understanding and, with it, her affection for them. Although, as I’ve said, she disliked ‘yes’ men among her friends and servants, she seemed to expect complete agreement and obedience from her children in thought, word and deed, and when she didn’t get it was indignant and angry. She made no attempt to see their point of view. It’s a difficult time for children of either sex, but she only saw it as difficult for her. Nor did she attempt to use love to keep close to them. She couldn’t. She tried to hold them through religion, but adolescence is an age when most children are more interested in Mammon than God. The temptations of the flesh seem very attractive, the more so if you know you can afford them, and this my lady didn’t seem to realize. The strange thing is she only hurt herself; the good thing was that she eventually got back their affection and respect and nobody was permanently hurt.

To a lesser degree his lordship was the same. He expected them to grow up like him and to take the road he planned for them, but the boys had different ideas and this puzzled and disappointed him. By nature he was philosophical, he’d had to learn to be, so it didn’t come quite so hard to him.

As for the children, well they, like most, learnt to adapt themselves. Theirs was a fascinating, changing world and there were plenty of other things for them to think about. Anyway they each had a small fortune to look forward to at twenty-one which meant freedom for them. I’m glad to say that by the time they got it they had learnt not to abuse it, and weren’t so keen on breaking adrift as they might at one time have been. Perhaps they were like that boy of sixteen who thought his parents were dull, stupid and old-fashioned and who, when he was twenty, was amazed how much they’d learnt in the last four years.

I suppose really that the Astor children – parent relationship was little different from that of the majority of families. It was just that with me being so close to her ladyship and liking the boys so much, I was critical of her behaviour towards them and wanted so often to tell her where I thought she was going wrong. I couldn’t, of course, it wasn’t my place, but I did give some very strong hints at times! In any case it’s always easy to criticize when you are watching from the wings and without any real personal involvement; just as it’s also easy to be wise after the event.

The children’s holidays were times to look forward to, times when Cliveden became a home. Then there were also visits to Tarbert Lodge on the island of Jura and to Rest Harrow at Sandwich. These holidays meant a deal of packing for me because we went for weeks at a time and had to cater for all weathers. I must say I didn’t care for Jura, though it was ideal for children, with fishing, swimming, climbing, walking, shooting and deer-stalking, but none of these things interested me. I went fishing once or twice and caught quite a few, but it seems to me that once you’ve done it and got over the excitement, it becomes a nasty, monotonous, slimy business conducted in the cold and the wet, and can be downright dangerous. Then again while I like fresh mackerel I don’t want them for breakfast every day of the week and apparently it’s a crime not to eat what you catch. I also found I’d grown out of the taste of venison since my childhood.

The lodge was in the middle of nowhere and I missed the excitement of London and the companionship of Cliveden. There wasn’t anyone I could really talk to. The housekeeper and her husband were nice enough people if I could have understood a word of what they were saying, so was the kitchen-maid, but it was difficult to carry on a conversation with someone who’d never been off the island until we visited there and took her on an outing, and who had never even seen a railway train. Neither did I have enough to do. My lady insisted on my packing all her oldest things which when she discarded them would be thrown or given away, and this included her undergarments, so there was no pressing, washing or mending and of course she rarely changed during the day. Once I even found myself scrubbing my bedroom floor out of sheer boredom!

I don’t think her ladyship enjoyed it either although she used to pretend she did for the sake of the children. She too was bored and therefore short-tempered which didn’t help matters. She used to give vent to her feelings by knocking golf balls about the place. I remember once, she must have been particularly frustrated, she was putting on the grass in front of the lodge and she suddenly turned and fired four balls at the house; two of them went through the glass of the windows. I think I know how she felt.

The first time I went to Jura (and I saw to it that I only had to go once more), I was treated to one of my lady’s bouts of petulant unpunctuality. The day of our departure came and the two boys, Mr Michael and Mr Jakie, were to return to school the following day. I was down at the quayside near the ferry with the boys and their luggage, waiting for the Astors. His lordship had sent me ahead while he hurried my lady up. Apparently she didn’t care for the way he did it, went into a tantrum and refused to budge. I guessed what had happened and did my best to persuade the ship’s captain to wait for them, but either the Astors’ name meant nothing up there, or he was one of those sailors who’d heard of her temperance drive; anyway he sailed bang on time. When the flustered couple arrived some minutes later there was a deal of sorting out to be done. Eventually a small boat was hired and I and the boys and their two trunks were dispatched to the mainland, where I was to do my best to get them to Glasgow, put them on a train and wait at the station hotel until the others arrived. I was unable to hire a car so we had to go by bus, and a comic journey that was with two large trunks and a couple of boys who didn’t mind in the least if we missed the train, and they missed school. Anyway we made it and with time to spare, though I must say I was relieved to see my employers the next day as the hotel management were giving me a few sidelong glances as if they knew I hadn’t enough money to pay for my room.

Although as I say we took a lot of luggage on these visits to Jura or to Sandwich, there was always a special piece that came with us; a cow, which was in a truck attached to the end of the train. His lordship was very particular about the kind of milk the children drank and so this cow and a cowman from the Home Farm were detailed to travel with us. I remember her being milked on the station and thinking it all a bit extraordinary, but you get used to anything and I grew to accept her as the right and proper thing to accompany us on our journeys.

I really enjoyed our holidays at Sandwich. Rest Harrow was a civilized house and her ladyship found plenty to amuse her while we were there. I could also catch up on my sewing and sleeping. We still entertained there of course, but it was more family and al fresco. Although we only used the house for about two months a year at the most, Lady Astor was very generous with it and would often lend it to her friends. There was one romantic occasion before I joined her that caused particular excitement. Gordon Grimmett recalled it to me in detail, and with some relish. ‘One morning Mr Lee sent for me and told me that her ladyship had loaned Rest Harrow to Lady Louise Mountbatten, Princess of Battenberg. She was to spend her honeymoon there with Gustavus Adolphus, Crown Prince of Sweden. “Naturally,” Mr Lee said, “as always on these occasions their whereabouts are a secret, so you will use your discretion and not mention it to any others of the staff. You will be going there to prepare for their arrival. I shall join you later and together we shall attend on them during the two weeks they will be in residence.”

‘Well, Miss Harrison, I thought at the least it would be a change from polishing silver, and I looked forward to it. I did a bit of research before I left and discovered that Lady Louise was thirty-four, and the Crown Prince forty-nine. “Left it a bit late,” I thought, and comforted myself with, “Perhaps they’ll be making up for lost time so there won’t be too much for us to do.”

‘The marriage took place on 3 November and the happy couple arrived, in what I learnt later was a specially built Daimler with a high body that had been selected because the Prince was six foot six tall. I blenched a little when he jack-knifed out of the car. I hadn’t seen the bridal bed, but it seemed to me that he was likely to have some uncomfortable nights. Mr Lee showed no similar reaction. He quickly took over, escorted the couple into the house and returned to attend to the luggage. As you know, Miss Harrison, he had little time for chauffeurs, and since this one had made no attempt to unload, he waded into him. “What’s your name?”

‘“Erb.”

‘“Well Mr Erb …”

‘“No, no, Erb is short for Herbert. You know, it’s my Christian name.”

‘“I know nothing of the sort, but what I do know is that you’re an idle fellow and that you’ve been sitting here wasting valuable time. Now get that luggage off, give it to Gordon here and then take yourself off, and quickly.”

‘Herbert moved as Mr Lee had suggested, fast.

‘Travelling with their Highnesses were Mr Neilson, the Prince’s valet, who knew not a word of English, and Lady Louise’s personal maid. I asked Mr Lee how I should address the royal couple. “Your first greeting in the morning will be, ‘Good morning, your Royal Highness, and if you have cause to speak to them further it will be Sir or Madam.”’

Gordon Grimmett continued: ‘That night dinner was served just for the two royals, with Mr Lee and myself waiting on them. The atmosphere was a bit subdued. They conversed in whispers with the occasional giggle. Mr Lee was ready for the occasion. “Gordon,” he said, “though it is the custom for us to remain in the dining-room throughout the meal, tonight we will break with it and retire after each course is served.”

‘Hovering outside the dining-room was the resident Rest Harrow housekeeper, Mrs Avery. “Whispering Avery”, the under-staff called her on account of her habit of putting her mouth up against your ear when she had something she thought important to say, and then when she’d finished of bringing her elbow smartly into your ribs as if to say, “Just between you and me, eh?” Since she did it with all of us it seemed she was full of open secrets. On this occasion it was apparent that she had something to communicate to Mr Lee, but since he refused to bend from his lofty height, I got the message too. “How many hot water bottles shall I place in the royal bed?” she inquired.

‘“I’m afraid I don’t know and I’ve no intention of hazarding a guess,” replied Mr Lee. “I suggest you ask Lady Louise’s maid.”

‘“I’ve done that and she says that up until now she always had three.”

‘“Under those circumstances I suggest that tonight one will be sufficient,” said Mr Lee, with great authority, though how he arrived at that figure I was unable to conjecture. Mrs Avery seemed satisfied and, giving Mr Lee her customary dig in the ribs, retired.

‘I must say that those days in Sandwich, Miss Harrison, were delightful and leisurely. And what a friendly couple they were, no airs and graces. It was please and thank you for everything that was done for them, and when they left Mr Lee was given a sizeable envelope of money which he shared amongst the staff. On our return to Cliveden I was greeted as I’d never been greeted before. Everyone wanted to know how the royal couple had got on, particularly the maids. Naturally I knew little, but to have heard me you’d have thought I was a proper Omar Khayyám.’

There was another adventure later when I was at Sandwich with the family. Lord Astor’s sister, Mrs Spender Clay, owned the house next to Rest Harrow, and Tommy Phipps, my lady’s nephew and Joyce Grenfell’s brother, was staying with her. He’d been over in our house during the evening larking about with the boys, but had returned with Mrs Clay. We had just gone to bed when there was the sound of a shot and shortly afterwards I heard Tommy Phipps shouting from downstairs. The whole house turned out in their dressing-gowns. Mr Tommy was trembling from head to foot and stuttering and spluttering; eventually we gathered that a man had appeared at his door demanding his money or his life. He’d given him a pound, which was all he had, the man had taken it from him, fired at him, missed and run out into the night. It was like a scene from a murder play. The footmen seized whatever weapons they could from the kitchen and rushed outside, the housekeeper fainted, Mr Billy called his dogs and went off with a knife, and his lordship followed with a golf club, leaving Mr Tommy helping himself to a brandy and her ladyship to phone the police.

I stood and waited for something to happen. Eventually two carloads of police arrived and our gallant men came wandering back looking rather comic with their various cudgels and things. After a brief talk with Mr Tommy the police left to take up the search, while an inspector was left behind to cross-examine us servants. To everyone’s utter amazement John, a young footman, suddenly burst out that he was the villain of the piece. Well, that got everyone clucking with curiosity. It was not to be satisfied. John, his lordship, Tommy and the inspector went into another room and we were told to get back to bed.