5 October
Uncle Aubrey took us to lunch at the Parisienne Restaurant, where we sat witness to an emotional scene. A young couple, newly married my uncle guessed, was seated nearby. He was in uniform; she, though not terribly pretty or well dressed, had something about her that caught the attention. Perhaps it was simply the tragedy of their situation. She wept, though she tried to hide it. Just as with the wounded men yesterday, I was deeply moved. Mother and Aunt Marjorie murmured about ‘making a spectacle’; Uncle Aubrey simply averted his eyes.
After lunch Mother and Aunt M continued shopping while Uncle Aubrey took Edmund and I on a whirlwind tour of the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and so forth. While admiring Boudicca’s statue I commented that it was a shame she couldn’t return to help us now, Uncle Aubrey replying that War is rather changed since her day. Shortly after he was obliged to return to work, and left Edmund and me the taxicab to take us back to our Hotel.
6 October
Who would have thought a baby could need quite so much in the way of equipment and layette! Mother was so exhausted by shopping that we sought refuge in the Savoy tearoom this afternoon, and who should we see but Lady Marchmont. She greeted Mother with great magnanimity then did nothing but complain about the Hardships Imposed Upon One by the War. You would think the Hun had invaded half of Europe with the sole purpose of foiling her plan to take a cure in Switzerland. I asked after Miss Duncan, who was nowhere in evidence, and was informed that ‘that singularly ungrateful and selfish girl’ had resigned, leaving Lady M ‘much inconvenienced’. On pressing the point it transpired that Miss D has joined the Belgian Red Cross. How this qualifies her as selfish one can only imagine! ‘How very brave,’ I said — which is not at all the way I recall her — and ‘Jolly good for her’. This earned me a withering look from Mother, but Aunt Marjorie was on my side and quickly extracted us from Lady M’s company. Once we were seated at the far side of the restaurant she confessed she agreed with my sentiments (if not my lack of restraint in delivering them) and called Lady M a ‘dreadful woman’. I quite agree. I should think Miss D has made a lucky escape.
8 October
Edmund was quiet on the journey home. I think he found the sight of soldiers swamping the railway stations in London rather sobering.
9 October, Deans Park
Two letters were awaiting my return. Lettie’s is full of a young man she has met, and she also wonders whether I might be allowed to visit. If there is any hope, she says she will have her aunt write to invite me. My second letter is from Mr Lindsay, who sounds rather more settled, though he says the mood of his College is sombre, with many young men not having returned for the new academic year, being already in training or at the Front, and there having been several Services for Undergraduates and Fellows killed in Action. He made enquiries on Lettie’s behalf but writes that, while the Women’s Colleges might be prepared to take her on, it is not possible for a woman to sit for a Degree. How absurd the world is! I wonder where Doctors Murray and Anderson achieved their qualifications — they are both Scottish, I believe, so perhaps the regulations are different there.
10 October
Eugenie’s birthday; she is eleven. Cook provided a special afternoon tea of scones, rhubarb tartlets and an excellent Victoria sponge.
13 October
Winifred spoke passionately at tonight’s WSPU meeting about how cold the men will be in the trenches now that winter is approaching, and we all collected supplies of knitting wool at the end of the evening. Mother insists I give up knitting socks until I have contributed suitably to the baby’s layette. Really, it is quite difficult to become engaged with a creature who does not yet exist, compared to the needs of those men fighting so bravely in Belgium.
15 October
Lady Braybrooke has asked me to provide tuition in bandaging to the older women. Of course I have agreed, though I do wonder how many of Our Brave Boys will arrive in Littlebury seeking assistance for swollen ankles and strained wrists.
17 October
Edmund has delivered an upset, this evening announcing that he plans to apply for a commission in the British Services, as he is not prepared to wait until the New Zealand Expeditionary Force arrives. Father looked grim and Mother was quite beside herself. Edmund is refusing to listen to their entreaties. While I would hate Edmund to be killed or seriously injured, I do understand his sentiment. Were I a man, I should certainly want to join up and show the Hun a thing or two!
Sunday 18 October
Argument continues unabated. Mother’s constant weeping causes Father to demand of Edmund how he could upset Mother at such a time, then to tell Mother to pull herself together lest she harm the baby. In the end Father sequestered himself in the study to avoid further acrimony.
20 October
The newspapers are full of the Battle For Belgium. The Hun was at first beaten back, the British Boys backing up the poor Belgian Army, which has had a terrible time. It is a race for the coast, Father says, with control of the Channel Ports being paramount.
21 October
Mother has taken to her bed. Dr Chiltern was called out and has decreed rest and quiet. Aunt Marjorie says I am not to worry; Edmund, meanwhile, is ignored. If harm comes to Mother or the baby, he will be blamed. I almost feel sorry for him.
24 October
Rain, rain and more rain. The mood in the house is unabatedly drear. A letter came for Mother with a Yorkshire postmark but she has said nothing about its contents.
Sunday 25 October
Mother is very puffy around the face and ankles. She did not attend Church but came down in the afternoon and lay on the sofa. Aunt Marjorie appears worried.
27 October
There are reports of a terrible battle at Ypres, which is a town in Flanders. Casualty lists are alarming: four more local boys have been killed, including Mr Tolley’s nephew. It is all quite awful and has not helped Edmund’s case.
29 October
Turkey has joined the War on the side of the Germans. Uncle Aubrey telegrammed to say he is unable to get away this weekend. Monty went on a rampage at the news and broke a vase, apparently quite valuable. Aunt Marjorie announced herself ‘at the end of her tether’, at which point I thought it best to take my cousins out for a walk, though it was hardly the weather. Damp and dispiriting.
4 November
With all the upset over Edmund and Mother, I missed the last two meetings of the WSPU, and last night arrived to find all in an uproar. I kept very quiet throughout — Aunt M and Mother would have been impressed! Winifred was interested to hear of Miss Duncan, and wonders whether the Red Cross might not be more practical than the VAD in terms of progressing to useful work.
6 November
Mother is somewhat better and Dr Chiltern has approved her being up, with the proviso that she must have several hours’ rest each afternoon. Also, that there must be No Emotional Upsets. Enforcing that during a War may prove difficult — perhaps he should speak to the Kaiser.
7 November
Finally Mother has mentioned receiving a letter from Mrs Fairfield (which I have suspected since seeing the Yorkshire postmark). I sat meekly awaiting her judgement, only to learn she has ‘simply not been able to think about it’. Lettie will be wondering whether the letter has gone astray.
Sunday 8 November
Jubilation! Uncle Aubrey is up for the day and when the question of my having been invited to Yorkshire arose, my dear uncle announced that there was absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t go. So it is agreed that I might visit Lettie for one week in December, though not for Christmas, when I am wanted here. Mother has promised to write to confirm arrangements.
10 November
Monty has been misbehaving terribly and is confined to the nursery. Millicent is crying in sympathy, while Eugenie has taken to slamming doors at every opportunity. All were upset when their father departed so soon after his arrival, on top of which the weather has turned beastly. Frost sits thick upon the ga
rden till at least mid-morning and the wind is absolutely bitter. Mother says it is too cold to go out, so I shall miss another WSPU meeting (and, which is worse, the relief of Winifred’s company). Were I not on my best behaviour, I might very well slam a door myself!
13 November
Mrs Fairfield suggests I might come any time in December. Aunt Marjorie says Cook’s sister, Mrs Pratchet, intends spending Christmas with her daughter in Thirsk and might therefore chaperone me as far as York, where Lettie’s uncle will meet me and escort me the last part of the journey. So it is arranged, and in just a few weeks I will see Lettie!
14 November
Snow! It is falling as I write, leaving a pattern of white dust across the windowpane. Earlier it was melting on first contact with the ground, but it is now starting to gather in small drifts in the lower pockets of the garden. It is rather beautiful. Aunt Marjorie says she had forgotten we would not have seen snow before, and that it is nowhere near so pretty after months and months of cold and damp.
17 November
My toes froze solid this afternoon when I walked to the village for my bandaging class and my fingers were so cold it was half an hour before I was of much use at all. Lady Braybrooke said I must tell Mother that I need proper gloves with fur linings. As a consequence Aunt Marjorie has loaned me boots with delicious woolly linings, and Millicent provided me with a fur hat. The snow is now quite thick, but my cousins say it will not stay long.
19 November
How right my cousins were: this morning is dull and grey and raining and feels even colder than yesterday, the snow having washed away and slushy mud proving nowhere near so attractive. Another bandaging class, and I confess I am thoroughly bored with them.
20 November
Winifred called for me in Lady B’s motorcar. We cut quite a dash roaring along the country lanes, bundled in scarves and rugs and quite revelling in our freedom. Winifred drives rather fast, which she says is quite the proper way to do it, and confessed — fortunately after we’d left — that she had learned to drive just last week. I felt perfectly safe, however, except on one corner where we went off the road and up onto the verge, the car collecting a smear of green along its side. We sat quite still for a few moments, gasping and giggling. Winifred was thoroughly relieved when one of the lads from the estate came past and helped her restart the engine, as she is apparently not very good at that yet. She swore him to secrecy, so we hope that neither my aunt nor Lady B will hear of our small adventure.
21 November
A letter came from Mrs Fairfield confirming that I am expected in Yorkshire in the second week of December. Hooray!
23 November
Winifred has offered to teach me to drive. She says there is demand for ambulance drivers at the Front, and she thinks she may prefer it to nursing, which ‘has no flair’.
Edmund sought me out in the library this afternoon; I did not immediately gather that he was asking my help. But he hopes I might convince Mother of his cause. Father will accept it, he thinks, though his preference would be for the New Zealand Expeditionary Force over a British Unit.
24 November
As bid, I attempted to smooth Edmund’s path (for who knows when I might require similar assistance?) and spoke with Mother about my brother’s plight. She agreed that it is hard for young men not to join up when others are going, but says it is also hard being a mother, especially one not in her own Home and Country, and that Edmund might try to understand that. Aunt Marjorie came in during the discussion and announced that mothers must urge their sons to go for the sake of All That Is Good And Pure in our World. Mother said that was all very well when one’s own son was only a child. Aunt Marjorie bristled in response, announcing that we are All At Risk, and asking: ‘If none go to fight, do you think the Hun will stop at the Channel?’ Which is a valid question but, seeing they were determined to disagree, I felt it best to change the subject.
26 November
The mood in the house remains strained, with Mother refusing to come down — whether due to her health or her displeasure with her sister is not clear. To be fair, it must be uncomfortable to be so heavy as she is grown. Dr Chiltern comes to see her every second day.
True to her word, Winifred has begun teaching me to drive. It is quite complicated but I believe I shall manage it. After a number of tries I finally completed a lurching circuit of the lake, and Winifred proposed that next time we might venture onto the road.
3 December
Misery! On Sunday I was caught by a thundershower and became quite drenched. Consequently I took a chill and have been feeling positively beastly, with a throbbing head and my throat so sore I can barely speak. I am a little better today, but Mother says I can’t possibly visit the Fairfields unless I am fully recovered. I do hope Lettie is not too upset.
5 December
Mrs Pratchet cannot be prevailed upon to delay her departure and leaves on Monday. I have written to Lettie with the news.
Sunday 6 December
Today’s sermon had the theme of Sacrifice for the Greater Good. Families whose sons and brothers and husbands have already made the Sacrifice showed a very brave front, and there was much talk afterwards of more signing up. The Hun must be stopped, no matter the cost.
7 December
My head still aches. I am currently rather glad I am not travelling to Yorkshire, though I shall regret it later.
9 December
When the sun broke through at midday I went for a short walk. Mother said I was foolish and headstrong, but I was glad to let the crisp air clear my head.
11 December
Sniffling once more, for which I apparently have no one to blame but myself. Aunt M has provided me with mending to ‘occupy my hands’. To think I could have been in Yorkshire with Lettie!
15 December
My cough being finally subdued, permission to attend a meeting with Winifred was granted (but only, I suspect, because the request was made in person by Lady Braybrooke’s niece). Hurrah for Winifred’s gumption, I say!
Tonight’s speaker rather elevated the level of debate. It seems some suffragists are in favour of working for the Peace Movement while others prefer to work for the War Effort. My head was too fuddled to decide what I thought. Winifred says she will call tomorrow so that we might go for a drive.
16 December
With perfect aplomb Winifred convinced my mother and aunt that she simply must have my opinion on a hat she was thinking of buying in Saffron, while all the while she was planning another driving lesson. Which proved quite thrilling! I have now driven on the road. When I saw a horse and cart approaching I was a little nervous but we (and they) survived without incident. Winifred says I shall soon be driving as well as she.
17 December
The German Fleet has shelled England! Last night they fired upon towns along the Yorkshire coast. And while I should worry for all in that region, it is mainly Lettie I fear for. Father says hundreds are killed and wounded, most of them civilians. The papers are full of the attack, with reports of women and children killed in their homes. In Scarborough the shelling went on for an hour and a half.
19 December
Uncle Aubrey denounced the attack as extremely cowardly. Scarborough and Whitby had no means to defend themselves and there were no Navy ships in the vicinity, although there were at Hartlepool. The response will be swift! There has been a renewed call from Lord Kitchener for men to sign up. Our response must be determined, but we will never behave as abominably as the Kaiser.
Sunday 20 December
A telegram has arrived from Lettie: she is unscathed but confirms hundreds killed and twice as many injured, with much damage. Mother is now in doubt about ever allowing me to visit. If I should see a German right now I should jolly well tell him what I think!
21 December
Winifred has shown herself a capable teacher: today I drove from Audley End to Saffron Walden. Winifred drove on the way back, though I was obliged to s
tart the car. It frustrates her terribly that she still cannot do it. I have tried to explain that it is a knack in the way one turns the crank, but she says her wrists are simply not strong enough. I have proposed exercises she might undertake to strengthen them, which she has agreed to try. I do hope they prove successful; I feel rather guilty that I can do it while she cannot.
22 December
With Christmas so close there is much excitement in the house. Monty, in particular, is quite ungovernable (my aunt does not currently appear to consider him a treasure!). Millicent seeks me out as a means of escaping his rampages.
Evie's War Page 4
