1941

When Alf had completed his training as a British Air Observer, he was sent to Bicester to wait for instructions to fly overseas to a war zone. I received a letter from him telling me that a lady who had a large country house near the airport was offering board to officers who wanted to spend time with their wives before leaving the country. He had paid a deposit and invited me to please come as soon as possible. So I duly arrived with my daughter Sylvia who was about three years old, at the home of Mrs M.

This lady had recently heard that her son had been killed in the war. She was naturally vey upset, and told me that she was bringing a man from London to hold a séance. She hoped to be able to talk with her son. She told me that her son had been scheduled to go to ……., a place which she considered extremely dangerous. So as she had relatives and friends in high positions in London, she managed to change the destination for him.

I wondered whether all this made her feel that she should have left the schedule as it was originally planned, but can we change the date of death for anyone? I doubt it. She wanted to talk so I did my best to comfort her. But much as I wanted to help her, there was little anyone could do. Thousands were going through the same distress every day, yet one felt very helpless. So having heard that this man was very good at contacting young men who had passed over, she was really expecting good results.

Her beautiful silverware was carried down from the loft and I helped the lady’s daughter to clean it ready for the guests. Among them were Lady Bicester and her mother Lady Antrum. The home of Lady Bicester had been taken over for the war effort and one wing was a hospital for the war wounded while the other wing was used as a school for the children of the local gentry.
When the two ladies arrived Mrs M made a great fuss of them and was escorting them to the seats reserved for them, when the elderly Lady Antrum brushed her aside and said, “I shall sit in the corner with this little child,” promptly taking Sylvia by the hand. She loved and understood children I am sure because each time I looked at them they were deep in conversation and looked very happy. The seance was soon over but sadly with little success for Mrs M, and soon we were busy serving teas.

Each day I took Sylvia for walks along the country lanes to see the flowering trees and shrubs and the birds, which we both enjoyed so much. It was a happy time, so peaceful and quite unlike the cities with constant air raids.
Alf came after work each day and returned to the air base each morning. It was stressful because we had no idea which morning would be our last together. Would he return or would he be lost like so many of his friends? He would not be able to let us know he was leaving as all movement by our troops had to be secret. However, Alf promised me that when he left he would fly low over the house three times so that we would know he was on his way.
We enjoyed our time together and did our best to cheer each other. One day when Sylvia and I were enjoying our walk Lady Bicester’s car pulled up beside us and we had a brief conversation. When we returned to the house Mrs M was waiting for us. She said she had seen me talking to Lady Bicester and asked why hadn’t I invited her back to the house?
Eventually our final day came and I heard a plane flying very low over the house. I asked the housegirl to quickly get Sylvia and I ran out and waved as the plane passed over for the second time. I looked for Sylvia and saw the housegirl with Sylvia under her arm with her bottom up while the girl was busy waving! I grabbed Sylvia who was a little concerned because the tall poplar trees were swaying so low as the plane passed over us. It must have been hard for her to understand that her daddy was in the plane and would not be coming home to us that night.
So I got busy packing ready to leave when Mrs M came to ask me to leave Sylvia with her where she would be safe from bombs. Mrs M would arrange for her to go to Lady Bicester’s school .This I declined because I knew Sylvia would not be happy there and in any case, I would not part with my little daughter.

Then Mrs M said, “Well, why don’t you stay too and I will arrange for you to have a job at Blenhiem Palace, Winston Churchill’s ancestral home. The office work is easy and you would be picked up by car with my daughter who is aleady working there. It would be very pleasant.”

Again I thanked her but declined. I thought that it was her way of getting closer to Lady Bicester. So Sylvia and I returned to the tiny cottage that we shared with my parents.