Flora came out with me to the car. She said, “Mummy says I have to go to Drumcanna, in case of an invasion. It’s too beastly. I haven’t even seen any bombs yet.”
She’s really getting to be quite pretty.
Freddie says passers-by cheered HRH when he went to Downing Street to call on Mr. Chamberlain.
Pips back late from Sussex. She says Wally’s running the Metcalfes’ elderly help ragged and compiling lists of things belonging to HRH that are still in storage and might usefully be taken to Paris. Pips predicts we’ll be traveling back with a great deal more luggage than we brought.
19th September 1939
There’ll be a boat available to take us back to France tomorrow night. Wally sent Fruity to York House to liberate some of the wines left behind, which are now ready for drinking. She said, “May as well get something worthwhile out of the trip. She’s very upset, because the New Bunch won’t even give HRH back his old honorary colonelcy.”
21st September 1939, Meurice Hotel, Paris
Pitched and tossed all the way back to Cherbourg, and there was nowhere to lie down and die. If Adolf Hitler had sent a submarine to hunt us down, they would have met no resistance from me. I hope Rory understands what he’s letting himself in for.
30th September 1939
We now have good supplies of stockings, soap, and hair color stored away. Wally says there’s no point in stockpiling scent, because it evaporates. Anyway, we may still get an early peace. Three weeks of war, and we haven’t heard a single shot fired.
3rd October 1939
Great excitement. Wally and I have volunteered for the Red Cross, and Main Bocher is going to make our costumes. I must say, war seems to suit HRH, too. He looks very well in his uniform, and Wally says he was up and gone by eight-thirty this morning, even though he doesn’t really need to be in till ten.
5th October 1939
HRH has decided to put away his needlepoint for the duration and is knitting instead. Scarves for the troops. Next week, he’ll be away, visiting fortifications. Fermont, Bois Karre, Thionville. It’s all top secret.
Charlie and Fern to dinner. The Piston-LeRupins chucked. Winnie Gulliver thinks they’ve bolted for Switzerland. Winnie has signed up for the Red Cross, too, but at the moment, she goes every day to help with Elsie Mendl’s comfort-kit drive. Wally and I may go with her tomorrow.
8th October 1939
Everyone was at Trianon with their sleeves rolled, even Sylvie Vieille-Soiffarde, and at an hour she’s never normally conscious. Cigarettes, razor blades, socks, candy, all needing to be packed up for the soldier boys. It was the greatest fun.
18th October 1939
Harry Gloucester is being sent all the way to France to inspect British troops. Wally’s steaming. As she says, HRH should have been asked to do it. He’s on the spot and he’s senior. HRH says he may go along anyway. He doesn’t have anything else much on next week.
23rd October 1939
Fruity’s getting it in the neck from all quarters. From the Commander-in-Chief’s people for allowing HRH to turn up at Arras uninvited. From Harry Gloucester’s people for allowing HRH to elbow in and take a salute intended for his brother. And from Wally for allowing him to wear suede oxfords with his uniform. But nothing seems to ruffle him.
30th October 1939
Our Red Cross uniforms are ready. Very fetching. Blue wool A-line skirt with a front pleat, belted jacket, white cotton shirt, and red necktie. We’re going to be delivering supplies to hospitals, and Winnie Gulliver has been assigned as our driver.
Wally got a letter from Ernest. He and Mary Kirk have had a baby boy. They’ve named him Henry. He was born in London, but they’re sending him to the States for safekeeping until the war has blown over. I hope they’ve chosen their baby-minder with care. I hope Ernest remembers what happened to Thelma Furness’s sister Gloria.
3rd November 1939
Yesterday, we did our first hospital run. Winnie picked us up before first light, six hours driving, a two-hour break while the supplies were unloaded and we visited some French wounded, then six hours back. The roads are full of army convoys, so it’s very slow going. More of the same next week.
10th November 1939
No sleep. We had two deliveries to make, one to a unit near Sedan, so even with Winnie’s size 13 on the gas pedal, we didn’t have a hope of getting back to Paris before morning. They put us up in nurses’ quarters. The guns were going all night. I didn’t feel frightened though. We talked in the dark, and Wally made us laugh with her impersonations of Queen Cotton Candy and King Bertie Bunny. It was rather like being back in the dormitory at Oldfields.
28th November 1939
Three runs to the Line this week. Invalid potties and Christmas candy. Nothing much happening. Winnie says Hitler intends to bore us into surrendering.
20th December 1939
The Lazslo Melchiors are giving a blackout party.
27th December 1939
Such a dreary Christmas. HRH decreed a period of austerity, so my gift from them was a book of Great Art, which I know was presented to them by the von Welzcecks, because they signed it. Wally’s gift was to have her baguette-cut diamonds reset. They’re going into a necklace with some Burmese rubies she’s acquired. We managed to get oysters, but the girl Wally has cooking for her ruined the guinea fowl, so we had to fill up on cheese and almonds.
Apparently, they’re going to start rationing butter and sugar in England. Poor Flora. She’s going to miss her “gake.” I shall try to send her an emergency parcel. I wonder if the Ladurée patisserie would ship macaroons.
Kenny Opdyke still has a rash from wearing black boot polish to the Lazslo Melchiors’ party.
8th January 1940
Deep snow. We were supposed to do a Red Cross run, but it was only pajamas for hospitals up the line, so we’re waiting for better conditions.
20th January 1940
Colder yet. Have worn my Red Cross greatcoat all day. Even Wally’s having difficulty getting fuel delivered. She says she may close up Boulevard Suchet and move back into the Meurice. I’m sure they’ll get a good rate. No one is traveling.
10th February 1940
The Army don’t seem to have anything for HRH to do out at Vincennes anymore, and he’s run out of yarn for his knitting. He says he may resume writing his memoirs. Wally says, if he wants to make himself useful, he can get the French Army to give us back our chef. Nothing much seems to be happening in this foolish war, so the man may as well be here, where he’s appreciated.
Fruity is very frustrated. He said, “Frankly, Maybell, I’d like to be a good deal nearer to the Hun than a Paris drawing room.”
27th February 1940
The French Army refuses to release our chef. Wally’s told Fruity to resubmit the request at a higher level. Those Army boys must be eating well. Meanwhile, no one in Paris has the means of putting on a decent dinner.
Winnie Gulliver is organizing a Red Cross benefit. It’ll be at the Bobino Club, and little Edna Piaf has promised to sing. Something to look forward to at last.
A letter from Violet mailed on December 29th to tell me she made First Officer and has a desk job at the Admiralty. Also that Flora and Doopie had just left for Drumcanna, to prepare it for use as a convalescent home. So, I don’t suppose Flora ever received her macaroons. Lightfoot is helping at a NAAFI canteen at Victoria Station. Rory and Ulick both on active service, so we’re not allowed to know where they are.
9th March 1940
Weak sunshine. HRH has been able to get in a little golf with Ambassador Bullitt.
We may go to La Croe for Easter. Fruity said, “If that’s the case, I’d very much like to try and get to England, to see Baba.”
Wally said, “Absolutely not. David needs you.”
Fruity looked so disappointed.
I said, “Surely we can spare him?”
“We?” she said. “No, we can’t spare him. Things could flare up at any moment, and the Duk
e of Windsor can’t be caught without his ADC. Not that this is any of your business, Maybell.”
15th March 1940
The Russians have taken Finland, and are expected to take Sweden, too. Fruity says Germany will probably take Norway and Denmark, Italy will take Greece, and civilization as we know it will be dead. At this rate, we’ll all end up back in Baltimore.
The cherry blossom is out in the Bois de Boulogne.
17th March 1940
We’re not going to La Croe, after all. Wally says she can’t face seeing what the Army may have done to her lawns.
23rd March 1940
Easter Saturday, but you’d never know. We took a station wagon full of plasma up to a depot near the Line yesterday, and didn’t get back till midnight. I nodded off after Epernay, and when I woke up, I heard Winnie saying, “Maybell’s jolly game, Wally, sticking with you through all your ups and downs. She must miss her family.”
Wally said, “She doesn’t really have family. Just a pair of sisters. She’s had much more fun with me. She’s traveled, met important figures.”
Winnie said, “She’s such a willing pair of hands, and such a cheerful attitude. You’d be lost without her, I’m sure.”
Wally said, “Dear old Maybell. She has her uses. And, of course, more money than she knows what to do with. I think of her as our little Paymaster General. She’s always good for picking up the check.”
Paymaster General, indeed! And I do, too, have family. She’s the one who has no one in the world except HRH and me, and if she doesn’t watch out, she won’t even have me.
They say things aren’t going so well for our sailor boys in the North Sea. I do hope Salty Laird is keeping my Rory out of it.
12th April 1940
Fruity was right. Germany has invaded Denmark. Winnie Gulliver predicts our Red Cross runs will liven up now.
To Maxim’s. Came: Sylvie Vieille-Soiffarde, the Esterhazys, and the Dimitri Shapaleffs, who are apparently not the same kind of Russians as the ones who betrayed us. All we could get to eat was leek soup and horse steaks.
22nd April 1940
Everyone is closing up their houses. Didi Grimaldi’s gone, the Piston-LeRupins have disappeared, the Lazslo Melchiors are heading for Switzerland, and Lucien Ecornifleur decamped without settling his hotel bill. We’re doing an inventory of Wally’s jewels.
11th May 1940
Germany has invaded Holland and Belgium. Fruity says, France will be next.
Kitty Rothschild’s gone, heading for Spain. So is Kenny Opdyke, and without saying good-bye. Wally’s been screeching all day. At HRH, for taking the first job he was offered instead of sticking out for something in London. At Fruity, for being Fruity. At me, for not having twenty pairs of hands. Go to the bank. Find a new manicurist. Get our furs out of storage. Call Maples about storing our furniture.
I said, “We should just close the shutters and leave.”
She said, “And leave our good things lying around? There’ll be nothing left when we come back.”
I said, “The Germans are collecting countries, not furniture.”
She said, “It’s not the Germans I’m concerned about. It’s the French. They’re all resentful little revolutionaries under the skin. We’ll go when I’ve made my property secure.”
12th May 1940
Neville Chamberlain has resigned, and the new Prime Minister is Winston Churchill. That toothless old scowler who was our neighbor the summer we took Rock Cholmondeley’s villa. Wally doesn’t like him one bit.
According to the wireless, the south Coast of England was bombed last night. Wally said, “Serves them right, after the way they’ve treated us.”
I could see a vein throbbing in Fruity’s temple. He left the room, and HRH trotted after him, flicking a cigarette lighter on and off.
I said, “That was an unforgivable thing to say. Fruity has family over there. I do. David does.”
She said, “They have bomb shelters. Anyway, I’ve no time for sentimentality. If they hadn’t forced David off the throne, they wouldn’t be at war now. If he’d still been King, it would never have come to this. What goes around comes around, Maybell.”
I always hated that expression.
She said, “Now, why don’t you do something useful? Go and draw out lots of cash. Get everything they have.”
I said, “Do you mean everything I have?”
She gave me a very long, cool look.
16th May 1940
Wally and I have parted company, and on very bitter terms. Fruity came with the news that the Germans had broken through the Line, which means that Paris is certain to fall. Wally was still in bed. HRH called an emergency meeting.
He said, “Maybell, you and Fruity must take Wally and the dogs to safety. Go to La Croe, help her secure the house, and then proceed to Biarritz, ready for a fast getaway.”
Fruity studied his feet for a moment. He said, “I’m sorry, sir, but for the first time in all our years together, I’m unable to comply. I’ve decided to offer myself for active service.”
HRH said, “What do you mean! You didn’t ask me.”
Fruity said, “No, sir. I decided on my way here. Things are hotting up, and the Army can surely find a better use for me than escorting Her Grace.”
HRH left the room without speaking.
Fruity said, “I hope you understand, Maybell. I’ll stay here with His Royal Highness until I get my orders, but I’m really not cut out for watering dogs and burying Wally’s silver. You’ll have your detective with you, and I’m sure your driver can handle himself. I don’t think you’ll be in any danger. I hope you get back to the States and have a decent war.”
I might have gone with her, if she’d behaved halfway civilly to Fruity. If she hadn’t screamed at the man from Maples after he’d been so obliging about storage, and if Pookie hadn’t puddled against my favorite needlepoint purse. But everything just seemed to come to a head.
I said, “I’m not coming, Wally. I’m going home.”
She said, “You simpleton, the whole country is on the run. You won’t get anywhere without my name to open doors.”
I said, “I’ll take my chances. Nothing’s certain for any of us, so I may as well go where I’m appreciated.”
She said, “I’ve more than shown my appreciation. The places I’ve taken you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be sitting in Wilton Place.”
I said, “And if it weren’t for your little Paymaster General, you’d still be in Marylebone with a veneer sideboard.”
HRH peered in to see what the shouting was about. He withdrew as soon as he saw her face.
She said, “Off you go then, Maybell. It’s really no more than I expected. I’ve grown accustomed to betrayal.”
I came back to the Meurice. Very strange to have no duties all of a sudden, no little errands to run. The place is almost empty, except for military. Winnie Gulliver is trying to get some gasoline. She thinks we can still make it to the coast.
20th May 1940
They say Rheims has fallen. Fruity says my best bet is to try and get transport west. He and HRH have patched things up, but he says the old warmth has gone and my name is now unmentionable.
Fruity said, “You know David. Wally’s happiness is paramount. Make an enemy of her, and you’re pretty much finished with him. But it’s a loss I expect you can bear.”
21st May 1940
Winnie still scouting for gas.
Fruity says Wally reached La Croe safely. Well, that’s something. He’d quite expected a signal that the Navy were on their way to pick up HRH and take him to England, but his hopes are now fading.
He said, “He’d probably refuse to go without Wally anyway. I sometimes think all sense flew out the window the day he met her.”
22nd May 1940
No gasoline, but Winnie may have found a bicycle.
23rd May 1940
Fern Bedaux has a van leaving tomorrow, carrying her linens across into Spain. There’l
l be room for me and Padmore, if we take no more than one small bag each.
Fruity says it’s our best chance. The Germans are nearly at Abbeville, so if Fern’s wagon doesn’t turn up, we’ll just have to put out German flags and hope for the best.
Fruity himself is in a state of bafflement. When he called HRH for the day’s orders, the butler told him HRH had already left, for Biarritz.
He kept saying, “I must have misunderstood. He’s still seconded to the British Mission, after all. David would never have abandoned his post.”
Of course, he would. He gave up an empire to chase after Wally, so he’d certainly give up a little make-work Army job. GHQ has told Fruity to fall back to the nearest port. Ever the gentleman, he offered to wait and see me safely away, but there’s really no need. I can look after myself. I’m the great survivor.
8th January 1946, Sweet Air, Baltimore
What a treat to crack open a nice, clean copybook and resume my diary with happy news. Susan Violet Melhuish Smith was born on New Year’s Day. Melhuish says Flora is doing well and the baby looks like Violet, but men aren’t good at judging these things. I hope for the child’s sake she favors me a little. I’ve told Melhuish to make sure she’s given cod liver oil and is kept to a routine. He says Doopie’s back in her element with a baby in the house, but we can’t allow another generation to grow up saying “gake” and “gustard,” and I don’t want Lightfoot cradling her with his game arm and dropping her on her head. The sooner I get there the better.
Gone With the Windsors Page 45
