For Malcolm who has constantly encouraged me in this project.
For Kate and Emily, who knew and loved Pam, and for Daisy and Ruby who would have loved her had they known her.
Acknowledgements
I should like to thank: Jonathan Guinness, Lord Moyne, for his help and encouragement and for writing the foreword to this book; Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire, for allowing me to use the Mitford Archive photographs and Helen Marchant for arranging this; Max Mosley and Lady Emma Tennant for talking to me about their much-loved aunt; and Dee Hancock for her unstinting interest and valuable information. Also the many other people who have so willingly contributed to this book. These include: William Cooper, Christopher Fear, Celia Fitzpatrick, Stephen and Freddie Freer, Lorna Gray, Julian Leeds, Pat Moodie, George and Margrit Powell, Guy Rooker, Michael Russell, Joan Sadler, Pat Saunders, Deirdre Waddell and Christine Whitaker.
I could not have written The Other Mitford without reference to the following books about the Mitford family:
The House of Mitford by Jonathan Guinness, Letters Between Six Sisters edited by Charlotte Mosley, The Mitford Sisters by Mary Lovell, Wait for Me by Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire and As I was going to St Ives: A Life of Derek Jackson by Simon Courtauld
Contents
Title
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Foreword by Jonathan Guinness
Introduction
One
Not an Easy Childhood
Two
The Other Children
Three
Growing Up
Four
Teenage Sisters
Five
Out into the World
Six
Derek
Seven
The Turbulent Thirties
Eight
Woman the Wife
Nine
The War and its Consequences
Ten
Pam’s War and its Aftermath
Eleven
Post-War: A Time for Moving On
Twelve
After Derek
Thirteen
Middle-Aged Mitfords
Fourteen
Back on English Soil
Fifteen
Living the Life She Loved
Sixteen
Home Economics
Seventeen
Sisters, Sisters
Eighteen
Almost the Final Chapter
Nineteen
Contented Old Age
Afterword: The Story of the Brooch
Appendix: Pam’s Recipes
Plates
Copyright
Foreword
by Jonathan Guinness
‘This is my sister Pam,’ said Deborah Devonshire as I introduced a friend to them both. ‘She’s just back from Switzerland and she can tell you the menu of every meal she’s had on the way.’ For Pam was legendary for never forgetting food. Her symbol in Charlotte Mosley’s collection of the six sisters’ letters, corresponding to Unity’s swastika, Jessica’s hammer and sickle and so on, is crossed spoons. Perhaps this was the occasion when Pam had brought to Chatsworth in her luggage a dozen eggs which when hatched would grow into the elegantly coiffed Appenzeller Spitzhaube chickens which were then new to this country.
Until now Pam has been the only one of the six Mitford sisters not to be the subject of a book to herself, and in filling this gap Diana Alexander has, as it were, earthed the Mitford story. ‘My wife is normal,’ wailed Lord Redesdale. ‘I am normal, but my daughters are all off their heads.’ Well, not all, actually. Pam could run a farm or a household to perfection: she coped for thirteen years with a millionaire husband who was physics professor, steeplechase jockey, and air ace but also dangerously mercurial and liable to behave outrageously. Their marriage broke up but he retained deep fondness for her through four later marriages, leaving her a fortune in his will.
In managing Derek, Pam perhaps benefitted from having suffered from Nancy as her older sister. For Nancy was an accomplished tease and Pam, as next oldest, was the one who bore the brunt. But Nancy was also very funny, and what Pam and the others all learned was to ride with the punch, to enjoy the jokes without being too upset by the unkindness.
Pam’s childhood polio certainly set her back educationally, but I’m not sure she was dyslexic. If so, it was a very mild case. She was a rather erratic speller, but so was Evelyn Waugh. She was not as avid a reader as the others, but Tales of Old Japan was not the only one of her Redesdale grandfather’s books she absorbed: she knew them all, including his substantial Memories. She learned German without having a single lesson and spoke it well enough to guide Nancy through East Germany when Nancy was researching her biography of Frederick the Great.
What I most respected in Pam was her love of the truth. When I told her I was intending to write the story of the Mitfords her first words were: ‘Yes: the real story, what actually happened.’ She was then endlessly helpful and her reminiscences, never in any way slanted, conveyed a sense of reality that took one back in time. It was this regard for truth that triggered an occasion mentioned in the Letters when Pam seems to have lost her temper, a rare event. Diana describes it in a letter to Deborah. Pam had been with Nancy and Jessica who had agreed with each other that the Mitford childhood was miserable. This, Pam had said indignantly, was quite untrue, and as she told the story to Diana she flushed and there were tears in her eyes.
Pam was always there when needed. She was staunch when Diana was clapped into Holloway without trial at what is supposed to have been Britain’s finest hour; she immediately took in Diana’s two babies and their Nanny. Then many years later, when Nancy was dying and all the sisters took turn at looking after her, it was always Pam whom she most wanted. When she herself was growing old, her many friends and relations loved the stories she told and her sense of humour, less sophisticated perhaps than that of her sisters, was always fun. Diana Alexander gives us a good taste of it.
Introduction
So much has been written about the Mitford sisters, both by others and by themselves, that it would seem unlikely there is much left to say. It is incredible, therefore, that one of the sisters is still virtually unknown and there has certainly never been anything published in which she is the central figure – until now.
Pamela was the second of the six ‘Mitford Girls’ – a phrase coined by future poet laureate John Betjeman – and she had a tough childhood owing to the jealousy of her elder sister Nancy, who bitterly resented the new baby. Pamela had polio as a child which held back her physical progress; she was also probably dyslexic, a condition which was not recognised at the beginning of the twentieth century and was the reason why she was the only one of the sisters – apart from Unity, whose suicide attempt put paid to any authorship by her – who never wrote a book.
Pamela was a superb cook, a knowledgeable farmer and an imaginative gardener but, most important of all, she was the member of this extraordinary family who most resembled her mother, Lady Redesdale, whose mantle she gradually assumed, picking up the family pieces – and there were many – being there when help was needed and bringing the practical side of her nature to bear on the others’ problems.
Unlike most of the sisters she never espoused a cause, never brought any grief to her parents and, together with her youngest sister Deborah, was
the only one who would have admitted to a happy childhood; and this was in spite of the treatment meted out to her by Nancy who also led the other siblings in the often cruel teasing. Of all the sisters she possessed the most contented personality. When, in the 1930s, the other ‘gels’ were forever in the news, Lady Redesdale once ruefully remarked: ‘Whenever I see a headline beginning “Peer’s daughter” I know it’s going to be about one of you children.’ But she wasn’t thinking of Pam.
This is not to say that Pam was in any way dull. Her humour was not as sharp but she loved hearing the others’ jokes; she could tell a funny story as well as anyone – usually about something which had happened to her – and her memory for past events (particularly meals) was legendary in the family. She never had any children but her nieces and nephews loved her because she never patronised them and was always ready to listen to what they had to say. In a strikingly good-looking family she more than held her own: she had the cornflower blue eyes inherited from the Mitford side and a face whose serenity not only reflected her personality but made her a close rival to Diana, always known as the beauty of the family. Although the others felt she was not as quick off the mark as they were, clever men were captivated by her. John Betjeman twice proposed to her and was twice rejected and she finally married Derek Jackson, one of the most eminent scientists of his generation, who also became a war hero and a successful amateur jockey. True, they were eventually divorced, but of his six wives she was married to him the longest and they became great friends after their divorce, even causing speculation among the sisters that they might remarry.
In spite of being rather shy, Pam possessed a tremendous spirit of adventure. During the year she spent in France she had a ride in a tank, which she declared was much more exciting than any of the social events to which she was invited and wished she could do it all over again, and during the 1930s she motored alone all over Europe.
Shortly after her marriage to Derek she became one of the first women to fly across the Atlantic in a commercial aircraft, taking it all in her stride. Prior to that she had enjoyed gold-prospecting with her parents in Canada (although this was never a successful enterprise) and later had managed the farm belonging to Bryan Guinness, Diana’s first husband.
It was not long after this that she really began to come into her own as the rescuer of her other siblings. During the war she gained much kudos within the family by having the two baby Mosley boys to stay with her and Derek while their parents were in prison for pro-German activities before the war. When Nancy was dying from a particularly painful form of cancer, it was Pam who she wanted with her when the pain was at its worst, and it was also Pam – since she was so practical – who played an important part in looking after Lady Redesdale just before her death.
After her divorce from Derek she went to live in Switzerland, where it was a joke among the sisters that she knew all the Gnomes of Zurich. When she returned finally to England she settled down to a contented old age at Woodfield House in the tiny Cotswold village of Caudle Green, midway between Cheltenham and Cirencester.
It was here that I first met her as I also lived in Caudle Green, and for twelve very happy years I worked as her cleaning lady and also became her friend. When I first arrived at Woodfield House, I had no idea that Pamela Jackson was one of the Mitford sisters and when the penny dropped, I simply could not believe that this lovely, amusing and compassionate lady really was the ‘Other’ Mitford, and very few people knew it.
I should say here that I was not a professional cleaning lady (though I must have been quite good at it because Pam was something of a perfectionist) but was at home with my young children as they grew up. It was not easy to pursue my previous job as a journalist because childcare was not available in the 1970s as it is today, but I could fit in the cleaning while the children were at school and in the holidays it was a treat for them to come with me because, like all children, they loved Pam.
All the time I was there I realised the unique position I was in and I couldn’t wait to write about this missing Mitford. I met her sisters and her friends and I talked to her at length about her life and her family. Apart from short features in magazines, however, there was never time in my busy life to write about her in the detail I felt she so richly deserved. Three years ago I retired from full-time journalism and knew that now was the time. This, then, is the result.
But first, and bearing in mind that the Mitford sisters are still mainly remembered by what is now the older generation – though Nancy’s novels have recently been republished, Debo’s life story, Wait for Me, has received enormous publicity, there are new books about Nancy and Jessica, and the Mitford bandwagon seems to roll on and on – it might be useful to put Pam in context by describing some of the other members of her remarkable and eccentric family.
The Mitford story really starts with the two grandfathers, Algernon Bertram Mitford, the first Lord Redesdale, known as Barty to his family and friends, and Thomas Gibson Bowles, whose nickname was Tap. The Redesdales originated from Northumbria, taking the title name from the village of Redesdale, while Thomas Bowles was the illegitimate but much-loved son of a Liberal politician. Their backgrounds were very different but the two men got on well together, at one time both serving as Conservative Members of Parliament. They are both important in the Mitford story because it was largely from them that the girls who became writers inherited their talents. Barty, who spent some time in the diplomatic service, wrote about his experiences in both China and Japan and his Tales of Old Japan became a classic which has seldom been out of print. Tap branched out in a different direction, founding first the magazine Vanity Fair and then The Lady, which is still going strong today.
You might wonder what these two men had passed on to Pam, who found writing quite taxing, but it was their spirit of adventure which she inherited. Barty travelled to the far-flung corners of the world and numbered explorer Richard Burton among his friends, while Tap was an intrepid sailor who had a master mariner’s certificate and, after his wife’s untimely death, spent much time at sea, taking his children with him. Pam would not have been out of place in either of those worlds.
It was through the somewhat unlikely friendship of their fathers that David Freeman Mitford and Sydney Bowles first met and their marriage was very much one of opposites. His volatile nature was tempered by the very pronounced sense of humour which he passed on to his children; although they quaked at his rages, all agreed that no one could make them laugh more than him, especially when he and Nancy got together. He loved country life and field sports, especially fishing, but was not good with money, usually selling his properties when prices were low and buying again when they had risen. Sydney, on the other hand, was much more serious, although she too had a good sense of humour. She had kept house for her father since the age of 14 and as a consequence had a very real sense of the value of things and nothing was ever wasted. Nancy and Jessica in particular felt that she was a rather vague and distant mother, and this image of her comes over in the character of Aunt Sadie in Nancy’s novels, The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate. They seldom realised how devoted she was to her unruly children and how devastating she found their behaviour as young adults.
Pam inherited her striking good looks and her love of the countryside from her father but, of all the sisters, she was most like Sydney in character, being utterly practical (which the others, except Debo, were not), careful with money, an excellent cook and provider, and, latterly, the one to whom they all turned when they needed help.
Pam’s siblings need little introduction since much has been written about them already, but for those not familiar with the Mitford Industry, as the family called it, here are some brief sketches:
Nancy, the eldest of the sisters, was born in 1904. With her dark hair and green eyes she did not inherit the Mitford looks and her sense of humour was more sharp and cruel than that of her siblings. Although she became a very successful writer, she was never quite satisfied
with her lot and certainly life dealt her some severe blows. She married Peter Rodd but the marriage was not a success and finally broke up, after which she made her home in France. The great love of her life was Gaston Palewski, one of General de Gaulle’s right-hand men. Known in the family as The Col, he is immortalised as Fabrice in The Pursuit of Love. Nancy’s novels and biographies made her rich but not happy. She will ever be remembered as the creator of U and Non-U (upper-class and non-upper-class speak) in a book called Noblesse Oblige.
Tom, the only boy in the family, was born in 1909. He cheerfully put up with his noisy, teasing sisters, partly because of his equable nature and also because he was the only one of the family to go away to boarding school. He was not as pro-Nazi as Diana and Unity, but he was sympathetic to Germany and chose to fight in Burma rather than Europe. He died of wounds in 1945, a tremendous family tragedy, which meant that the Redesdale title passed to a cousin.
Diana, who was only a year younger than Tom – the two were very close as children – was deemed to be the beauty of the family. She couldn’t wait to leave home and at the age of 19 married Bryan Guinness, heir to the brewing empire; but later she met Sir Oswald Mosley who became the love of her life. He was forming the British Union of Fascists at the time and Diana became one of his devotees and also one of his mistresses, for faithfulness was not in his nature.
She divorced Bryan and from then on devoted her life to Mosley and his cause, marrying him in secret in Germany in 1936 after the death of his first wife. The Mosleys were imprisoned during the war and afterwards went to live permanently in France. Diana possessed the family gift for writing and as well as reviewing books for various publications, wrote books of her own. Having been deemed by one of her nannies as too beautiful to live, she died aged 93 in the Paris heatwave of 2003, surviving Mosley by more than twenty years but never renouncing his views.
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