Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor (22 page)

Next morning to my surprise John was still with us, but he refused to say anything about what had happened. It was several days before we were able to put the pieces together. Apparently Tommy Phipps, who was unpopular with the staff anyway, had been getting at John, taking advantage of his position to tease him out of his wits. So John decided to get his own back. He’d used a toy pistol and was eventually going to reveal his identity. He hadn’t expected Mr Tommy to get so scared. His lordship, although he reprimanded John, was also extremely angry with Mr Tommy, and he held him responsible for the whole incident. The police inspector apparently mumbled something about arresting John for pretending to use a firearm, but his lordship had already tried the case and administered the sentence so he was quickly silenced. In those days even the police knew their place.

Mr Jakie, the youngest of the Astor boys, and therefore the one to whom I probably felt the closest, was also the most witty and amusing. He’d either inherited or copied this trait from his mother. Whichever it was, his wit didn’t include her wicked bite or will to hurt. One quick remark of his which probably sums up his mother’s attitude towards her children is contained in a skirmish of words they had when my lady was considering writing her autobiography. ‘You can’t describe yourself as you really are, Mum,’ Jakie said. ‘The result would be too horrifying.’

‘What a wretched thing to say about your mother. Anyway, why would it be horrifying?’

‘Because you’re so possessive,’ said Jakie. ‘That’s why all your children are cases of arrested development – though I must say,’ he added, ‘that Bobbie is the only one of us to have actually been arrested.’

He is referring here to his half-brother Bobbie Shaw, and it brings me to the first experience I had of her ladyship in grief. Mr Bobbie was apparently a bit of a wild one as a young man. He had gone into the army, as an officer in the Blues, and developed a taste for the drink. This had led to his having to resign his commission, a disgrace that probably drove him even closer to the bottle. He became reckless and was caught by the police committing a homosexual offence. Then, there was none of the understanding of such matters as we have today. To be honest, at the time I knew nothing of it. I remember Mr Lee assembling the whole staff and speaking to us. He explained in vague terms what had happened and then said, ‘After you leave the servants’ hall no one will speak about the matter. Anyone heard or suspected of doing so in or out of the house will be instantly dismissed.’

I was again told about it by her ladyship; she was in such sorrow that it had to come out. I remember it was so hard to comfort her, not fully understanding what it was all about.

The police I gathered were doing their best to help. They pointed out to his lordship and to Mr Bobbie that a few days would elapse before they issued a warrant, which meant that if Mr Bobbie left the country and stayed away and out of mischief for a year or so nothing further would be heard of the matter. He refused to budge and decided to face the music. Her ladyship was nearly out of her mind with worry. The timing couldn’t have been worse. She and his lordship, together with Bernard Shaw and a few others, had accepted an invitation to visit Russia. It was one of the first such visits since the Revolution and therefore had aroused a lot of public interest. As was obvious from Mr Lee’s talk with the servants, the main object now was to avoid publicity over the case. I don’t know how it was done, but not a word was published in any newspaper. Of course his lordship owned the
Observer
and his brother
The Times,
and in those days dog didn’t eat dog, but there must have been a deal of string-pulling behind the scenes. It meant of course that Lord and Lady Astor had to keep their appointment in Russia; if they hadn’t there would have been public speculation as to why and this would undoubtedly have given the show away. Nobody could be really sure what was likely to happen and the case wasn’t to come up until after the Astors had left, so my lady was in a constant state of turmoil. ‘I wish you were coming too, Rose,’ she kept saying, and I believed her. She needed someone uncomplicated in whom she could confide, and she tried up to the last moment to get visas for both Arthur Bushell and myself. When she said goodbye to me she was in tears and as I tried to comfort her, she said, ‘If I can get over this, Rose, I can get over anything.’ She did get over it, and so nearly did Mr Bobbie, but it’s my opinion that no one ever really gets over a prison sentence – even of only three months.

To me one of the greatest and most lovable qualities of my lady was her ability to forgive people who had, in her eyes, done wrong. Drink and sensuality were the two big ones in her sin book yet in London and Plymouth she’s brought back drunken servicemen rather than let them get caught by the military police, and the compassion that she showed to Mr Bobbie was by any mother’s standards remarkable. If only she could have left it at that it would have been better for him. Unfortunately she couldn’t leave religion alone and exhorted him too much in that way. It took the gilt off the gingerbread. The children too were wonderful to him then, and for the rest of his life. To hear them speak of him today is to listen to nothing but praise for his charm, wit and courage. There’s no question but that he was devoted to his mother, though they were constantly at cross purposes and many’s the tear I’ve helped mop up after he’d been with her. In her later years, he was particularly attentive and seldom a day passed when he didn’t telephone or visit her.

Yet somehow I couldn’t like him in the same way that I did the other children. He was too changeable for me. He’d come into his mother’s room, sometimes he’d be pleasant and delightful and others he’d try and corner me in conversation and make me say something indiscreet about my lady or the other servants. I always felt on my guard when I was with him. It may have been something to do with a happening very soon after I joined her ladyship. I was waiting outside her room on the landing near a bathroom at Sandwich while she was dressing, and he came along and started talking to me. Suddenly from out of the blue he said, ‘I bet you were glad to leave Lady Cranborne, weren’t you, Rose?’

‘No, Mr Bobbie, I wasn’t,’ I said after a moment’s bewilderment. ‘While I was with her I was very happy and she was always kind to me.’

He smirked at that and went away. A few seconds later the bathroom door opened and out walked Lady Cranborne. He’d known she was in there and had tried to make me say something that would have caused her a hurt. I took the incident as a signpost of the direction his mind worked in and was ready for the other occasions as they happened. Poor Mr Bobbie though, he had more than his share of misfortune: two bad riding accidents that cracked his skull; badly bombed while serving during the war (ironically enough he was in a pub when they fell); and an attempted suicide. He’s a person I’ve grown to admire more since his death. His will was the answer to a servant’s prayer. He left his money and his house to his housekeeper, Lottie Moore, to whom he’d given the job out of kindness when she had to leave Cliveden where she had been head housemaid. It was a small fortune, about a hundred thousand pounds in all, and was given providing she looked after his three dogs. Unhappily though there wasn’t a fairytale ending for Lottie. She died a year later and had little time to enjoy the money.

Mention of dogs brings to mind the place of dogs in society. In most of the houses that I visited it was little dogs allowed in the house and big dogs outside in the kennels. If my memory serves me aright the Tuftons didn’t keep dogs either in London or at Appleby Castle. The Cranbornes kept two constantly with them, and they had working dogs as well for shooting. I particularly liked Lord Cranborne’s yellow labrador and he took to me. He’d try to sneak into my bedroom at night when his lordship was away so that he could sleep under my bed. Her ladyship had a greyhound. Whether this was because she liked them or she knew what a graceful pair they made when she took him for a walk, I don’t know. Dogs and people can complement each other I’ve found. Many an ugly man can look quite handsome alongside his bulldog.

When I first went to Cliveden Lord Astor’s Peke was the only dog allowed in the house. ‘Peeky’ slept in his bedroom and wandered around everywhere with his lordship. When he was away Mrs Ford the housekeeper looked after him and Peeky was still given the run of the place. During his lifetime his lordship had a number of Pekes. They weren’t a breed I’d been particularly fond of, but I grew to like them, and I’ve found this with all types of dogs, it’s just a question of getting to understand them.

All the children had dogs. I remember Mr Billy’s black labrador, Mr David’s spaniel, Miss Wissie’s miniature poodle and Mr Michael’s and Mr Jakie’s terriers. As for Mr Bobbie, I reckon he ran the gamut of Cruft’s. I think I saw him with every breed under the sun. He was constantly changing them. If a friend admired one he’d suddenly find himself the owner of it. This way Lady Astor acquired one, another Peke, Sue-Sue she was called. It was after the war; before that her ladyship had always said she was too busy to keep a pet. It was obvious from the start that she didn’t know how to treat it. She didn’t attempt to earn Sue-Sue’s affection by exercising her, talking to her and giving her her food. We were at Sandwich when Mr Bobbie presented Sue-Sue to her. When the time for her to drive back to London I brought the dog down to the car. ‘What on earth are you doing with that, Rose?’ she said. ‘You don’t think I’m going to drive back to town with a Peke to keep me company. What sort of fool do you want me to look?’

‘Well, it’s your dog, my lady, and Mr Bobbie gave it to you to look after.’

‘Well, I’m not going to have it in the car with us, so you can shut up, Rose.’

‘Very well, my lady, then what do you propose I should do with her?’

‘You can have it, Rose, as a present from me,’ she cried, slammed the door and drove off to London.

At the time I was rather pleased. I’d never had a dog of my own and I’d grown fond of little Sue-Sue. My pleasure didn’t last long when I rejoined her ladyship. Talk about the eternal triangle! She was jealous of Sue-Sue. She was always getting at me now through that dog. ‘You do more for her than you ever do for me, Rose,’ became a constant cry. ‘I suppose you’ve been with that dog,’ whenever she rang for me. The last straw came one night when I was at the front door of Hill Street and her ladyship came to let me in. ‘What sort of maid are you to me, Rose?’ she cried. ‘You think more of that dog than you do of me.’

That was it. I went home the next day on some pretext or another, and gave Sue-Sue to a friend whom I knew would care for her as I had. I can report that she had the drawing-room for the rest of her life.

I don’t want to give the impression that Lady Astor disliked dogs. She didn’t. She liked to see them around and she encouraged her children to keep them. It’s just that she didn’t have the patience or the inclination to understand or look after them herself.

After my experience with Sue-Sue my feelings can be imagined when once again her ladyship accepted the gift of a dog, while she was at Sandwich. This time it was a corgi, christened Madam. She’d been a present from Mr Bobbie to Mary, the housekeeper at Rest Harrow. Mary couldn’t cope and offered it to my lady who accepted it. Now of course, she was very much older, it was about three years before her death, so I hoped she would have mellowed a bit in her attitude. At first too I tried to ignore the dog. This got me into trouble. ‘You don’t like Madam, do you, Rose? Why? She hasn’t done anything to upset you, has she?’ I couldn’t win. Then as someone had to feed her, Madam developed at least a cupboard love for me, and so it went on until soon she was scratching at her ladyship’s door when she heard me coming.

Then came the inevitable, ‘That dog belongs more to you than it does to me.’ I didn’t bother to reply. I know when I’m beaten. I must say she really got my rag out one day though. I’d gone into her ladyship’s bedroom to change her. ‘Where’s Madam?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know, Rose,’ she replied.

About two seconds later I heard a muffled woof and a scratching. I went to the wardrobe, opened the door and let Madam out. Her ladyship was speechless and uncomfortable, so was I for a second or two, then I let her have it.

‘That, my lady, was downright cruel and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you ever do it again I shall tell the boys that you’re not fit to look after a dog.’ Oh, I was angry! Of course I got a ‘Shut up, Rose’, but it was a quiet and rather ashamed one. I must say Madam was more affectionate towards her ladyship than Sue-Sue had been. Perhaps that was because she was constantly giving her chocolates; perhaps it’s worth comment that she didn’t even bite into them before offering them to her either!

I also showed the whip hand a bit over Madam. I remember once when we were staying with my lady’s niece, Mrs Lancaster, at Haseley Court, my lady decided to take her for a walk in the fields. Well I knew the dog’s habits, so I said, ‘Be careful with her, the fields are full of sheep. We don’t want her rolling in their dirt otherwise she’ll come home and smell the place out.’

I probably shouldn’t have said it. It was a challenge to my lady. I reckoned she must have encouraged the dog if she didn’t actually put her among the sheep’s dung and roll her in it, for Madam came back covered and stinking to high heaven. Her ladyship had a sort of little smile of triumph on her lips as she saw me. Battle commenced. I got a bowl full of water, set it on a towel on the floor, handed my lady a piece of soap and a brush. ‘There,’ I said, ‘I asked you particularly to watch her, and now look what she’s done. She’s your dog, she’s got to be cleaned so get on with it.’

She set to without saying a word. That did it; of course I couldn’t watch her so I took over, admonishing her with every rub of the soap and scrub of the brush. Eventually we both ended up roaring with laughter. Madam was the only one who didn’t see the joke.

There was another habit of that dog’s which had a comic twist. William, our odd man when we lived in Eaton Square, often used to take her out at night for a walk. Like all odd men William enjoyed his pint of beer, so she was taken into the various pubs in the neighbourhood where she was given potato crisps and bits of cheese while William took his drink. She became a sort of regular, popular with the landlords and the other drinkers, and a bit spoilt by them. So when my lady came to take Madam out for a walk, and she got near a pub, Madam would tug at her lead and try and pull Lady Astor into it. Then when they came to the door of the bar she’d sit back on her haunches and whine, and wouldn’t budge however hard she was tugged. This didn’t please Lady Astor, but it amused the passers-by, particularly those who knew who she was, because though all her other political beliefs and actions might have been forgotten, her prohibitionist views were always remembered.