At the age of eighteen she went to India to marry her sweetheart Ben who was learning tea planting. They were very happy and were delighted when their daughter was born. When the child was old enough they were obliged to select a good boarding school for her in England, because there were no suitable schools for her in India. So Bunny - the daughter - spent some thirteen years in England and her parents visited as often as they could. All went well until Bunny got into her teens. She and the other girls in her class decided they were neglected by their parents and so the grudge grew and grew until Bunny left school at eighteen years old. Her parents came for her but Bunny refused to go back to India and made herself very objectionable, causing much hurt to her parents. They had taken three months leave to come and try to explain their feelings to Bunny and their love for her. They stayed with Ben’s sister. Food was not plentiful in England at that time and they brought a suitcase full of delicious tinned meats, chocolate, etc. When I first met Queenie her husband had returned to India, but Queenie felt she should stay longer and try to help Bunny. She no longer felt welcome at her sister-in-law’s home, the tinned food had finished and she felt they wanted her to leave. Hence her search for accommodation, and she said nobody seemed to want her because she looked ill. When she had settled I found her a delightful person with a lovely sense of humour and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. Bunny was arrogant and difficult with Queenie but fortunately she took a real liking to me and loved to confide in me. It took months for me to slowly sort out her problem. The girls at her school had held bitter ‘parent hate’ meetings; they were all girls whose parents held good positions overseas. Our discussions were as light and humorous as I could make them as I didn’t want her to think I was siding with her mother. Meanwhile Queenie had told Ben in her letters how happy she was now. Ben wrote a letter of thanks to me and said he would like to call me “Winnie the Pooh” because from Queenie’s letters I sounded like a lovely cuddly bear, and he was so grateful. From time to time my family still affectionately call me “Winnie the Pooh!” Then came the time that Ben was to retire. Queenie and I had talked about this and I had mentioned that we were thinking of emigrating to New Zealand. Then came Ben’s letter saying he thought it would be a good idea to emigrate to New Zealand! He wanted Bunny to go to India with Queenie and spend their last few months there together. Bunny resisted this strongly, but after some weeks she eventually said she would go. Ben was delighted and sent a hundred pounds for her to outfit herself, and especially to purchase a beautiful ballgown because he would arrange a marvellous farewell party and looked forward to leading his daughter onto the dance floor. This rather put Queenie into confusion because she was used to everything being done for her and couldn’t face a day in London shopping. So she asked if I would go. Well! One hundred pounds in those days was a terrific amount to spend on clothes and I was thrilled to go with Bunny and help her choose. We had a lovely day shopping while Queenie looked after my little son Rodney. When they left England I was asked to join them if we ever came to New Zealand. A couple of years later we actually did that and stayed with them in Palmerston North until we decided where we wanted to live. I loved Queenie, she was such a happy kind person and she had an infectious laugh. It was such a privilege to know her and be with her. Years later Bunny went back to India to marry a Scotsman whom she had met there, but unfortunately the marriage was not a happy one. When Queenie died I attended her funeral, but was so upset when we all left the church and Queenie was left to be cremated. I felt I wanted to be with her right to the end, but nobody was allowed to be present. This played on my mind especially as I had heard so many horrible stories about cremation. So I decided to find a way to attend a burning and after many enquiries I managed this. But that is another story! |
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