Girls of the Great War

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘Oh, yes please, Nan,’ Cecily said.

  ‘We do need to know more,’ Merryn agreed.

  ‘May I listen too?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘Of course, dear boy,’ his aunt said, then settling back in her chair, began to tell her story. ‘Queenie was a spoilt only child, an attractive young girl who enjoyed a happy and privileged childhood in Whitstable. As she grew older, she became quite fond of the son of a fisherman. But when that boy developed no wish to be one himself, he left for America. She sorely missed him, having believed he’d adored her as he would give her sweet kisses and had been most caring over her family problems. She’d believed that she was falling in love with him. Discovering her daughter was pregnant, Mrs Gossard was of the opinion that the young lad was the one responsible, assuming he was guilty because he was working class. The truth was that after her father died, her mother had soon found a new lover to come and live with her. That rogue constantly abused young Martha, giving her gin to drink at night in order to make her vulnerable to his assaults.’

  Cecily flinched with fury. ‘Oh, that’s dreadful! No wonder Mama kept having nightmares.’

  ‘And became addicted to alcohol,’ Merryn wryly remarked. ‘Queenie too had little faith in working-class men, presumably because that boy she loved had deserted her.’

  Nan nodded. ‘She did attempt to tell her mother the truth, but she refused to believe her. Despite being unmarried I’d helped my own mam to deliver many babies, so assisted at the birth. Mrs Gossard had no wish to risk calling the doctor, thereby revealing the state her daughter was in. She’d kept her locked away for nearly five months in order to protect her own reputation. Nor had she any wish for her to keep an illegitimate child. I was therefore instructed to take the baby to a local orphanage for adoption. I set off to do that. However, aware that my sister, by then thirty-three, was unable to have children, I instead gave her this boy child.’

  ‘So I am her son?’ Boyd asked.

  ‘You are indeed, dear boy. During the war when I became distressed over your injury, I finally confessed to Queenie what I’d done. She was truly delighted to learn about your existence and happy life. Thereafter, I kept her informed of how well you were dealing with the loss of your leg, writing to her often while she was away in France. She was so glad to know that you’d recovered and was obviously delighted to at last meet you.’

  Cecily met his devastated gaze with equal misery, a slur of depression again erupting within her. ‘So what happened to Queenie after her baby son was taken away?’

  ‘She ran away from home with very little money, barely more than the cost of the train to London, being anxious to find somewhere safely distant. She had nowhere to live, slept rough and once her money was gone, she was starving and stole odd bits of food from bakers. One shop owner threatened to arrest her, but she managed to escape and run away. She was sitting weeping one freezing cold night close to the Thames in East London when a woman approached to offer her assistance and employment. Martha gladly accepted, only to find herself turned into a prostitute.’

  The two sisters exchanged a horrified gaze of disbelief. ‘That cannot have been right. Why would she do such a thing?’

  Nan met their expressions of dismay with deep compassion. ‘Being in dire need of food, income and somewhere to live, she decided that seamen were much more caring than her family. Obviously, she had grown accustomed to being exploited and out of habit would take a drink in order to allow her body to be used.’

  ‘It really doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Cecily said. ‘Poor Mama.’

  ‘Indeed! However, months later, she grew increasingly resentful of the fact that much of her earnings were taken from her by the pimp who ruled her. She lived in a house of ill repute, packed with prostitutes with barely a penny to her name. Becoming despondent about this, she resolved to earn herself money in some other way. Aware of her ability to sing, as she’d used to do as a child in local schools and churches, one day she valiantly stood in the market place, putting her hat on the ground in order to collect donations. To her delight she did surprisingly well, developing a number of fans. Fearful the pimp might discover what she was about and steal that money from her too, she moved on to perform in various other markets or else under a bridge on a wet day.

  ‘It was when she was singing in the West End of London close to the Gaiety Theatre that she was approached by a distinguished young man. He praised her talent and made a suggestion for her to attend an audition at the local theatre, offering to organise it for her. She felt eager to give that a go, assuming he might want more from her by way of payment. She attended the audition and to her delight did indeed receive the offer of a job.’

  Merryn smiled. ‘I can see why they would do that. She has always had a wonderful voice, except in her later years.’

  Nan nodded in agreement. ‘Her career went well and a year or so later she wrote and begged me to come and work for her, saying she was turning into a star. I happily agreed, having been her maid and most fond of her. I was not allowed to make any mention of this fact to her mother.’

  ‘So who was this man who got her into the theatre?’ Cecily asked. ‘Was he the one we’ve been investigating, assuming him to be our father?’

  ‘He was James Stanford, son of a lord and a well-to-do man who filled her with hope and excitement for a new life. She happily gave herself to him with gratitude and a relationship developed between them. She loved calling him Dean, choosing it as a jokey name because he was a man of authority and high status.’

  Finding herself unable to say another word, the dismay at discovering Boyd was her brother pumping within her, Cecily was relieved when Merryn spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry that we never knew our father or why our mother spent her entire life remaining obstinately silent. Being her so-called favourite child, it’s also astonishing that she paid no attention to my attachment to Johnny, using him for her own amusement. She did finally apologise to me for doing that, having become filled with guilt as she suffered from kidney failure. Showing her love for me, I felt relieved at feeling able to forgive her. Hearing what she suffered as a child, it’s not surprising that she became addicted to alcohol and sex, despite developing a career of fame. As a consequence, she failed to find the time and energy to give us much attention or love when we were young. Thank goodness we had you to care for us, darling Nan.’

  She reached over to hug them both, and her nephew. ‘Never having married, you all felt like my darling children.’

  ‘And you were like a mother to us,’ Cecily whispered, giving her plump cheek a kiss. ‘What a relief and pleasure that was.’

  ‘I agree Queenie was not an easy lady, mainly because of the abuse she’d suffered as a young girl. She never had any desire to return to her family home in Kent, still being riddled with nightmares. When Mrs Gossard died, she left the family home to her lover, still not believing what her daughter had endured. Being successful, Queenie didn’t care about that and eventually bought this Victorian terraced house here in Plymouth. I then insisted you girls should spend all your time here and no longer be involved in her constant tours.’

  ‘That was a good thing. We loved living here with you. I’m trying to remember if Stanford, presumably our father, shared this house with her?’ Cecily asked.

  ‘I do not recall him coming here,’ Nan said. ‘He was no longer around by then, although they were a couple for a number of years.’

  ‘Did she ever confess to him that she’d acted as a prostitute?’ Merryn quietly asked.

  Nan shook her head. ‘She didn’t, praying he never would find out. She told him both her parents had died when she was young, leaving her homeless and with very little money because of their huge debts. I’m afraid lying became an important part of her life.’

  ‘So nothing she has actually told us has ever been true, is that what you’re saying? Was that man truly our father and did he drown in the Thames, as she claimed?’

  ‘She did lose S
tanford but lived in hope that one day they would reunite and again become lovers. The years slipped by and he continued to supply her with funds, but she never saw him again. As a consequence, she grew weary of you two girls asking questions about who and where your father was and when he’d be coming home. That was the reason she claimed he drowned. She hoped it would silence you both for good, as well as protect herself from worse problems. She firmly believed that your future husbands should be rich so that you would each have sufficient money to sustain your lives if a marriage went wrong, as had hers. Queenie certainly took advantage of her money and status for that reason and . . .’

  Cecily interrupted. ‘Sorry, Nan, but if you are saying that she claimed he drowned simply to shut us up, does that mean our father is not dead?’

  Taking a moment to respond, Nan astoundingly said, ‘Actually, Lord Stanford is still alive and well. He lives in the far north of Scotland. When I heard from Queenie some months ago that she was seriously unwell with suspected kidney failure, I did write to him. He replied to say he’d be delighted to meet you both, as he has wished to do for years, were you ever to be interested in seeing him.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, that would be wonderful!’ Cecily said, feeling utterly astonished by this news.

  ‘This is what we’ve wanted for so long,’ Merryn agreed.

  Nan nodded. ‘You can meet him too, Boyd, if you wish. Lord Stanford has generously invited you all to visit him, and is willing to tell his part of the story regarding the mistakes both he and Queenie made. I contacted him once I decided to tell you the facts of her life, now that she has passed away. I booked you the train journey,’ Nan said, handing over three tickets. ‘So you can go whenever you feel it’s appropriate, perhaps tomorrow?’

  THIRTY-SIX

  THE TRAIN journey was long and interesting, taking them up into the highlands of Scotland via Inverness to Nairn, fifteen miles away on the coast of the Moray Firth. The silence between Cecily and Boyd had been somewhat profound. Merryn at first attempted to chat with them both until even she fell quiet, suffering from a sense of grief. They arrived on a mild autumn day, filled with anxiety at the possibility of meeting their father at last. The town had long narrow streets with a harbour and flat sandy beaches, and looked very Victorian. Finding a horse and carriage, Cecily showed the driver the name of the house they were seeking: MacMarron Hall, and was amazed when he informed them it was not a house but a Georgian castle set a few miles outside of the town.

  ‘So this lord really is quite rich,’ Merryn whispered, as they climbed on board.

  It did indeed prove to be a magnificent building with a small turret set to the left and right of it, a huge number of tall chimneys on the roof, sash windows and a pillared entrance porch clothed in wisteria. ‘What a beautiful place to live,’ Cecily said, as the carriage drew up in the courtyard, surrounded by a walled garden and woodland.

  As they climbed out, the front door burst open and a man appeared. He looked quite elderly and plump with white hair, a moustache over his wide smiling mouth and most elegantly attired in a grey double-breasted suit. Beside him stood a small sable and white Shetland sheepdog. He hurried over to quickly shake their hands, grinning happily at the sight of them, the dog trotting close to his heels. ‘I was delighted to receive a telegram telling me you were coming. My goodness, how pleased I am to see you. I never dreamed it would ever be possible. Do come in.’

  Cecily felt deeply moved by this welcome. He seemed to be a most charming man.

  They entered the hall, impressed at its size, glittering chandelier and a grand staircase, surprised to see an ancient suit of armour by the door. ‘He’s standing guard,’ Stanford said, with a laugh. ‘This way, dear folk.’

  Moments later, they found themselves seated in a large drawing room filled with chairs and sofas, a fire roaring in the grate and huge portraits and tapestries hung upon the walls. The little Sheltie, introduced as Shep, had a soft, sweet temperament, not barking or showing any resistance when each of them gave him a gentle stroke. He merely offered a little sniff, then went off to sit peacefully close to his master.

  Coffee was brought in by the housekeeper, together with a large cake stand, scones and biscuits, oatcakes and cheese: an astonishingly appetising afternoon tea. They chatted about the mild weather as they ate. ‘This area has an interesting climate with cool summers and mild winters. Not as warm as Cornwall,’ he said with a chuckle.

  ‘So you do remember Cornwall?’ Cecily asked. ‘I assume you have not visited for some years.’

  ‘I remember it well, dear girl, and you too.’

  She almost flushed with excitement at this comment. Putting down her cup and catching Merryn’s anxious glance, she gave him a smile. ‘We are delighted to be here to meet you too, Lord Stanford.’

  ‘You can call me James, or Dean if you wish, as your mother did,’ he said with a chuckle, leaning forward to look more closely at them both, and at Boyd.

  Cecily quickly explained how they’d had no idea he was still alive until Queenie had passed away and Nan was at last permitted to tell the story of her past. ‘We were told how she first met you but only learned a small portion of her life, so would love to hear about the time you spent with her if you’re willing to share that. Mama has always refused to tell us anything about our father, so we’d like to know if that is you.’

  Giving a dry smile, he settled back in his armchair. Shep gave a sigh and settled his chin upon his master’s feet. ‘I will not bore you with anything irrelevant but will happily provide you with the honest truth, which has been kept secret for my entire life. I’ll explain why later. We did have a most happy relationship, being young. She was a beautiful woman, tightly bound in a corset, her gowns sleeveless with a low cleavage.’

  ‘She was indeed,’ Cecily said with a smile.

  ‘Then one day, to Queenie’s complete astonishment, I confessed that my previous mistress had given birth to a baby. I told her that she had tragically lost her mother who’d died of scarlet fever. I pointed out that I needed to protect my reputation and not reveal to my father how I’d indulged in many mistresses and now possessed an illegitimate child. Queenie did pay attention to that remark, probably because she’d had an inappropriate early life herself, something she never spoke of. That being the case, I asked if she would look after this child until I could find someone to adopt her. She agreed but only if we were to marry, assuming my dalliance would then stop. I succumbed to her request, quite entranced by her and wishing this infant to be safe, so long as she never revealed the child’s true parents.

  ‘I did insist upon a quiet ceremony, expressing doubt of my parents’ attitude towards Queenie for being only middle class and not nobility. I promised we could have a grander wedding once I’d won them round. She happily called upon the local vicar and arranged a small private service in the local church.’

  ‘Who was that child?’ Merryn asked.

  ‘I’d like to know too,’ Cecily said.

  ‘I will tell you shortly.’

  With agony in their faces, the two sisters clasped each other’s hands, saying nothing more.

  ‘Queenie hired a nanny to care for the child and after the wedding took place, I moved her into a much better house in London. We were quite happy and I’d bought her a diamond ring, which she loved. But I was not able to live with her quite as much as she’d hoped. She assumed this was because of my disapproving parents, taking into account my words of warning. Then one day when she was performing at the Gaiety Theatre on the Strand, she saw me seated in the audience with another woman by my side. I should have realised she was in that show and not attended. When I visited her a day or two later, she flung herself into my arms in a fury of tears, telling me what she’d seen and accusing me of inappropriate behaviour with another woman. I confirmed I’d had affairs with many and asked if she wished to call an end to our marriage. She steadfastly refused, saying, “You are my husband and I love you. Being a man of high status who p
rovides me with ample funds, why would I wish to leave you?” She then took to drinking more and embarked upon a few affairs of her own in retaliation.’

  ‘Who with?’ Both sisters asked this question, speaking as one person in need of names and detail. Boyd still remained silent.

  ‘I’ve no idea. She was involved with several men and I paid no attention to who they were. When later she became pregnant, she admitted that the child was not mine because I’d neglected her for some time. We had a furious row and I finally spilled out the information I’d kept secret for so long. The lady she’d seen me with was my wife, Seraphina. “I am your wife,” she screamed. I apologised and coolly explained that before we’d gone through that quiet wedding ceremony, I was already married. I hadn’t felt able to admit that fact since she wasn’t prepared to care for my illegitimate child unless I agreed to wed her.’

  ‘Are you saying Seraphina is the woman we know as Lady Stanford?’ Cecily asked.

  ‘She is indeed and still officially my wife. We have not lived together for years, not at all getting on well as a result of this issue. That was the final straw in our difficult marriage. She did, however, inform me how she’d met you, Cecily, and had resolutely told you nothing about me, not wishing to create problems for me or more importantly, herself.’

  ‘So you were a bigamist?’ Boyd quietly remarked, clearly attempting not to sound too condemning.

  ‘I was indeed. Queenie threatened to report me to the police, saying I could be charged and imprisoned for five years. I begged her to remain silent, having no wish for that to happen. I also admitted that if my parents discovered I had an illegitimate child, I would be cut out of my father’s will and lose my inheritance. Being a fierce and arrogant lord, he would also ensure that her career was destroyed, along with her reputation. Seeing how furious Queenie was as a result of what I’d told her, and fearful of this threat, I promised to provide her with a new home wherever she wished to move to. I also offered her a good income so long as she did not have me charged. Fearing she too might then lose everything worthwhile in her life, Queenie felt obliged to grit her teeth and accept reality. She insisted upon quite a large income, chose to move to Plymouth and a few months later gave birth in 1899 when she was twenty-two.’