Alice's Long Road Home

by Rosie James

  Sam stopped what he was doing and put the brush down.

  With his hands on her shoulders again, he pulled her around gently, making her look into his eyes.

  ‘We can get help,’ he said quietly, ‘because I think you and I have talked long enough about this, Alice. We must seek advice – to see if there is anything wrong – with either of us. Something that can be put right.’

  Alice grasped both his hands with hers and stared up at him. ‘Oh – there can’t be anything wrong with you, Sam…that’s a ridiculous thought…’ she began, and he stopped her going on.

  ‘No. It’s not ridiculous, Alice, I can assure you,’ he said. ‘Reproduction is a 50-50 arrangement.’ He bent to place his lips carefully over hers, then – ‘We’ll give it until next spring…just a few months away…and if we’re still not lucky, we get help. Agreed?’

  Alice smiled up at him, trying to stop her lip from trembling.

  ‘I will always trust you to know what’s best for us, Sam,’ she said softly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  6th February 1952

  The official announcement from Sandringham House came at 10.45 gmt.

  “King George VI has died peacefully in his sleep. The King had retired in his usual health but passed away in his sleep and was found dead in bed at 7.30 GMT by a servant.”

  From 10 Downing Street, the prime minister Winston Churchill made the following announcement:

  “We cannot at this moment do more than record the spontaneous expression of grief.”

  Princess Elizabeth, who was at the royal hunting lodge in Kenya immediately became Queen.

  She was twenty-five years old.

  Alice was in the kitchen having breakfast with Betty when they heard the news on the wireless.

  ‘Oh my, Oh my,’ Betty said, ‘that poor, dear man! Gone at fifty-six!’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Mind – he did look poorly when he saw them off on the plane, didn’t he, Alice? Those pictures in the papers told the story all right.’

  She stood up to fill their tea cups again, then passed more toast across to Alice. ‘Of course, he never expected to be king, did he! His older brother, the playboy David – the uncrowned Edward VIII – he should have filled that role, but he didn’t want it thanks very much… Oh no, what he wanted was his lady friend – that Mrs. Simpson. The American woman. Twice divorced, I believe.’ Betty pursed her lips. ‘It wasn’t right for poor Prince Albert to be landed with being king – especially with having that stammer, poor dear.’

  ‘No, it certainly wasn’t what he or his wife expected would be their lot,’ Alice agreed, ‘but didn’t they do a wonderful job…during the war, especially. They could have left the country – gone to Canada or somewhere to get away from the bombing – but they stayed put. They stayed here with us, didn’t they…remember those pictures of them tramping all over the debris in the East End after the Blitz? And talking to everyone as if they were one of us?’

  Betty nodded in agreement. ‘That’s what you call True Blue, Alice,’ she said soberly. ‘Never desert your post, and those two certainly didn’t.’ Betty took a hanky from her pocket and blew her nose. She was very fond of the royal family – always had been. Especially since the old king had come to tea…

  ‘Anyway,’ Betty said, standing up to answer a tap on the back door, ‘our dear king’s troubles are all over, aren’t they.’ She paused. ‘And his daughter’s are just beginning.’

  May 1952

  Watcher me old fruit

  I thought I’d write to let you know the latest. Uncle Bart is no more. He died very suddenly last week, and Mabel and Walter have gone straight down there to tidy him up, so to speak. Well, to arrange the funeral and everything else that has to go on after someone dies.

  Because the old boy had been ill, there won’t be any delay about the funeral, but Mabel told Roger and me not to bother to come all that way down to watch him being put six feet under. There was obviously no love lost there!

  Mabel and Walter are coming back as soon as possible, and in the meantime Roger and I are keeping everything ticking over. Honestly, when I signed up for that war work I never thought I’d end up married – to anyone – let alone to the farmer! Well, to his son. But I have to tell you, Alice…I will admit it, very quietly, and only to you and Evie…I have never been happier in my life. I’ve got him firmly under my thumb and he’s got me firmly under his foot!

  I rang Evie the other day to have a chat. She was asking me how the dogs were, and whether there were any new little goslings yet. I’m sure she still misses the farm. Well, bits of it. She and Max are still house-hunting, with no luck so far. But that other thing she told us – you know, when we three went out together last – about the sort of music they’re into now…apparently that is going as strong as ever. And she’s worried to death about it! Wonders how on earth she’ll ever be able to tell her parents. And I told her not to bother. What the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over, does it?

  Anyway, I said we must all get together again soon. I’ve got the Austin here of course – so I see mum and gran quite often – and there’s plenty of petrol available now it’s been off ration for a couple of years – so I could come and fetch you both. Bring you back here, or we could hit the night life in Bristol if you prefer.

  So Ta Ta for now –

  Your own dear Fay, smelling distinctly whiffy. (only joking – Roger makes sure the hip bath is always at my disposal, and if his parents aren’t anywhere around he frequently comes in and washes my back! Takes a long time over it!)

  Two weeks later, Fay and Roger had just come back from the fields where they’d been working all day, when they heard a car draw up outside.

  ‘Ah,’ Roger said, glancing out of the kitchen window, ‘the wanderers have returned. Perhaps you’d better make another cup of tea, Fay – that’ll be the first thing my mother will want.’

  Almost immediately the door opened and Walter and Mabel came in, carrying their suitcases – they had been away from the farm for nearly three weeks – and by the look on Walter’s face, he couldn’t get back soon enough. He was already pulling his jacket and tie off as if there was something nasty on them – though Fay had to admit that being properly dressed did suit the farmer. He had a strong frame, his back still straight.

  ‘Oh, ’ome sweet ’ome,’ Walter grumbled thankfully, glancing at Roger. ‘Everythin’ a’roight while I bin gone, Rog?’

  Roger grinned. ‘I told you on the phone, Dad – there haven’t been any problems… Fay’s kept us all in order – though.I did decide to hire an extra hand last week, but that’s all.’ He glanced at Fay. ‘Our Land Girl tells me what we should do each day now!’

  Fay had made a fresh pot of tea as instructed, and now she brought it over to the table where Mabel had sat herself down, her head back, and her eyes closed. ‘Are you all right, Mrs. Foulkes?’ Fay asked – wondering when she was ever going to be able to call Mabel anything else. But her mother-in-law did look absolutely worn out. ‘I am so sorry about your brother –about Uncle Bart,’ Fay went on. ‘I am sure you must feel very sad…’

  Mabel sat forward, gratefully accepting the mug of tea which Fay had passed to her. ‘Course, luvver, we were never that close, Bart and me,’ Mabel said. ‘I mean, ’is farm’s right down south, too far away for us to visit, and ’e never came to see us up ’ere.’ Mabel sipped from her mug. ‘But ’tis…sor’a funny when anyone goes, innit? Even if you ’adn’t seen much of ’em.’

  ‘Oi don’t feel funny,’ Walter declared, sitting down as well now, slurping at his tea noisily. ‘Oi feels glad. Never ’ad no time for the bloke – ’ee were a mean, tight-fisted bugger, all ’is life. With ’is words an’ ’is wealth.’

  Mabel was cross at that. ‘Walter! ’Ow can you say that! I mean – ’ow can you say that now! There’s good in us all, and folk can change – if they d’want to.’

  ‘I s’pose,’ Walter said grudgingly. He had always been jealous of his brothe
r-in-law who’d lived a bachelor life, had never spent any money on himself or anyone else, his farm well-known in the area as the most successful, thriving one around. Bart had always had good luck with his animals…his crops…everything, and had always been able to buy the very best stock. He’d had a silver spoon in his mouth all his life that man had.

  ‘So – anyway,’ Roger said, ‘you thought the funeral went OK, Mum? Were there many there?’

  Mabel nodded. ‘A surprisin’ crowd turned up, Rog,’ she said. ‘Mind, Bart had left instructions for a knees-up in the pub after the funeral so p’raps that made folk turn up. One or two came over to me – they knew I was Bart’s only sister – his only relative – said things like they’d known ’im a long time, ’an…’

  ‘Oi didn’t ’ear no one say they’d miss ’im!’ Walter said cheerfully, ‘an’ I bet they’re all dyin’ to get their ’ands on his property…when it d’come up for sale.’

  ‘Well, they’re gonna wait some time for that,’ Mabel said firmly. ‘We’re gonna take this steady…the agent’s taking care of the stock for now, but…’

  ‘What do you mean, Mum?’ Roger said curiously. ‘We shan’t have to do anything about the sale, surely? Uncle Bart always used solicitors and accountants for everything, he used to tell us that. I shouldn’t have thought he’d have expected you – us – to take control of disposing of his worldly goods.’

  Mabel looked up at Roger. ‘Oh…Rog…didn’t we tell you, luvver? See – I forgot that bit.’ She sipped from her tea again. ‘No, Bart’s left everythin’ – the farm, all the stock, all ’is personal belongin’s – to me, Rog! We ’eard the will read out day ’fore yesterday…’

  Roger’s face was a picture. No one had expected Uncle Bart to leave anything to family because he’d always made it known that everything he owned would be going to the RSPCA. The fact had been emphasized many times over the years – he might have been known as a tight-fisted man, but he loved all animals, and had treated his own like children. He never spent anything on himself, but his animals never went short of a single thing to make their short span on earth as happy as possible.

  For a few moments there was dead silence, then Mabel went on – ‘’We ’ad no idea, did we, Walt?’ she said, ‘an’ when the solicitor read everythin’ out I thought I was gonna pass out! The money, Rog! I mean, we knew all along that ’ee weren’t short of a penny, but when you ’ear it spelt out, like, it d’make you think! The amount ’ee ’ad in the bank were enough to shout about, but then there’s the farm, and everythin’ in the farmhouse! The place is huge…an all up together – Bart never left nothin’ undone, did ’ee, Walt? ’Tis all very tidy. An’ the solicitor said it would sell in a trice…there’d been a lot of interest the moment poor Bart did breathe ’is last!’

  Roger eventually found his voice. ‘I can hardly believe it, Mum,’ he said slowly. ‘Uncle Bart leaving everything to you…’

  ‘To us,’ Mabel said, ‘cos wha’ ever do I want all that money for? Tell me that! I don’t need for nothin’ – well, none of us do, do we, luvver? We got everythin’ we want already – an’ we don’t go nowhere cos we don’t want to! We like it down ’ome! Always ’ave done! ’Aven’t we, Walt? An’ I know we ain’t got as much as Bart had, but we’ve always done all roight, the good times makin’ up for the bad ones… Well, that’s ’ow it is for all folk, innit? Take the rough with the smooth and ge’ on with it!’

  Mabel finished her tea and sat back, folding her arms. ‘I ’spec you d’think we’re a funny lot, Fay luvver,’ she said, glancing up at Fay, ‘but I ’aven’t slept much since we found out… wha’ on Earth are we gonna do with all that money? I never expected it, and I don’t wan’ it! I do not wan’ it!’ She frowned suddenly as something struck her. ‘Course, it’s different for you, Rog – you’re young, you an’ Fay…you’ll have plenty of things to do with it! Oh yes…an’ it might mean you could ’ave a year or two off the farm and go off somewhere where there are young folk! Somewhere more excitin’ than just ’ere with yer mum and dad all the time! Just for a while, mind,’ she added, ‘we wouldn’t want you gone too long, but it’d be lovely for you to get right away and do somethin’ different. Wouldn’t it, Walt? Rog ’as always been a good boy, a good son…’ee deserves a reward, and Bart’s gonna give ’im that! At last! ’Ee never gave ’im no birthday or Christmas presents, so now Rog can ’ave wha’ever ’ee likes! Can’t ’ee, Walt?

  Walter got up and went towards the door. It was time to go and check up and see what had been going on in his absence. He glanced back. ‘Course ’ee can. To do wha’ever ’ee wants with it…’ he said.

  Mabel shrugged as she got up. ‘I don’t want nothin’, that’s the trouble,’ she said, ‘I got plenty of clothes that still fit an’ I’m not one for goin’ shoppin’ for any more – no thank you!’ She turned to Fay. ‘That dress I wore to Alice and your weddin’s – an’ I wore it to the funeral as well – that looked all roight, dinnit? I know I’ve ’ad it yers and yers, but…’

  Fay interrupted quickly. ‘It looked lovely Mrs.Foulkes,’ she said, and meant it. The dress was navy silk, printed with tiny flowers of red and yellow, the style simple enough to be neither fashionable, nor unfashionable. And worn with the small hat which Mabel had borrowed from a friend at the WI, the ensemble had suited Roger’s mother perfectly. She had been – and still was in a certain way – an attractive lady.

  Mabel bent to pick up her suitcase, then stopped. ‘Tell you somethin’, though, Rog,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘We could do with a nice new lavee out the back, couldn’t we…an’ maybe a proper bath? Now that’d be nice! We ’ad a proper bath at the boarding ’ouse we just stayed at, an’ I must say it were lovely to lay righ’ out in the water!’

  Roger immediately went over to take his mother’s suitcase from her. ‘You can have whatever you want now, Mum – and if a new lavatory and a proper bath are the only things you can think of – I will personally see that your wishes are granted!’

  August 1952

  Alice watched Betty leave the kitchen, and noticed – not for the first time – how awkwardly the older lady was moving around these days. Every time Alice tried to talk to Betty about it, she was immediately shushed. But this had been going on for too long, and Alice came to a decision. Whether Betty liked it or not, it was time their cook had a break. Or had some help. Alice had spoken to Sam – and the professor about it – and they had both informed her that such matters were entirely up to her now.

  Alice began to clear the table, and Betty came back and tried to take over. ‘Now, you go on with whatever you have to do, Alice,’ she said. ‘There’s no need for you to waste your time down here.’

  ‘Betty – I want to talk to you,’ Alice said, and the seriousness in her tone made the older woman look up quickly. She put the loaf of bread which had just been delivered down on the table.

  ‘What’s the matter, Alice?’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘You are the matter, Betty,’ Alice said. ‘Because it’s high time you had a break from all your duties. You’ve been looking very tired lately – and you did say, some time ago, that you feel overcome now and again. So be sensible, and relinquish the reins – just for a little while. A few weeks’ rest would do you the world of good,’ she added.

  To Alice’s great surprise – she had been expecting a torrent of protest – Betty sat down and looked up at Alice. ‘Well…as a matter of fact, Alice,’ she said, ‘I wrote to my cousin a couple of weeks ago and I was telling her that I wasn’t up to much these days…feeling tired all the time. Which is not like me, you know that Alice. And my cousin – where I stayed during the war – said why don’t I go down and have a little holiday with her…’

  Alice clapped her hands – delighted that Betty was making this easy for her. ‘Perfect, Betty!’ she said. ‘Sam will arrange for the car to take you there.’

  ‘But…what’ll you do when I’m not here?’ Betty said. ‘Who’s going to do everything?’
>
  ‘Oh, we’ll get some temporary help,’ Alice said at once. ‘I’ll put an advert in the Western Daily Press, and the other two evening papers, for a housekeeper/cook – there are plenty of people wanting jobs.’

  ‘But…whoever she is, will she be living in my accommodation?’ Betty asked suspiciously, and Alice interrupted.

  ‘No, of course not! Your little flat is yours, Betty, no one else’s,’ she said. ‘No – if the successful applicant lives too far away to come in on a daily basis, there are plenty of rooms in the house which aren’t used… David and John’s – and Rose and Margaret’s – are vacant nearly all the time now, aren’t they? One of those could be hers, just for the time being. Because she’ll only be here until you get back.’

  The rather worried expression on Betty’s face cleared. She didn’t mind having a little holiday, but she didn’t want to be pushed out permanently and her precious home at Clifton given to someone else.

  The advertisement which Alice had placed in the three newspapers had not produced anyone who she felt was right for them, for the family. She’d already interviewed four women – all older than herself – who’d seemed to interview her, rather than the other way around. But perhaps that was her own fault. She was finding it hard being in a superior position, after all the years she had been employed here herself that she was probably inviting what she saw as the rather off-hand attitude of the women.

  But one thing Alice was certain of was that Betty should go for her holiday as soon as possible. And if she, Alice had to hold the fort for a week or so, then she would. At the moment, there were only the three of them in the house to cook for in the evenings – and the professor often dined out in any case – the cleaning ladies knew what their duties were with housework and laundry. So if Alice couldn’t see to the breakfasts and some dinners until she could find someone to take Betty’s place temporarily, she should be ashamed of herself. Of course she could do it.

  In fact she might quite enjoy it. It would certainly be a change from those interminable meetings.