Henrietta Sees It Through (12 page)

When I got home I found Charles deeply gratified by a letter from Bill's Colonel. ‘The boy's not doing at all badly,' he said, handing me the letter.

It was a lovely letter and I glowed with pride as I read it. ‘Haven't we got nice children, Charles?' I said.

I wanted him to say, ‘Yes, darling. It's because you brought them up so beautifully.' But all he said was, ‘Some people strike lucky with their children and some don't.'

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

H
ENRIETTA

 

 

 

*
It must sometimes have been difficult for Linnet to realise that she was now a married woman and had been for several months by this time. Philip had been posted overseas and she continued living in the Nurses' Home.

 

 

 

September 22, 1943

M
Y
D
EAR
R
OBERT

Since last I wrote, we have had a Dogs' Jamboree here in aid of the Red Cross. For a week before I spent all my spare time brushing Perry and polishing him with a
velvet pad, and I must say that on the day of the show, with his yellow collar and lead, he looked very fine indeed.

Lady B was waiting for me at the bottom of the hill with Fay, who was washed and brushed and smelling of scented soap. She wore a tiny blue bow on the top of her head. Faith was there, too, for she was on the Committee. She is often asked to do this kind of thing, because she adds to the beauty of the scene. The Conductor, among others, came to look at Faith.

Perry, I was delighted to note, was in one of his pleasanter moods, neither sulky nor ‘Old Dog', but prancing along on his neat little feet, and giving Fay some very meaning looks from time to time out of the corner of his eye. Perry loves to show off in front of Fay. Nobody quite knows what Fay's reactions are, as her eyes are hidden behind her flaxen, spun-silk hair, but Lady B says she is crazy about him.

It was a lovely autumn afternoon, and the Savernacks' garden, where the Jamboree was being held, was full of people. We noticed with pleasure that there were many sideshows, and a placard at the gate announced that Madame Zanana would tell fortunes in the summer house for half a crown a time.

Event One was the Dog with the Longest Tail (in relation to its body). This was a dead snip for Perry, who had entered for this class in several Dog Jamborees, and in spite of a bald tip, never failed to take first prize. I led him proudly into the ring, and the first thing he did was to take a dislike to a harmless and very fat spaniel and set up a fierce growling.

‘Keep that dog in order, please,' said one of the Judges, whom I at once began to hate as violently as Perry hated the spaniel. Faith said afterwards that our glaring expressions were identical, and she offered, then and there, to give an extra prize for the Dog Most Like Its Owner.

Perry gave a snarling bark and strained at his lead. ‘If that dog doesn't behave himself, he'll have to be taken out of the ring,' said the Judge.

‘Shut up, Perry, you fool!' I said, and gave him a tiny tap with my finger.

Perry at once became ‘Old Dog'. When it was his turn to be judged, he stood on the table trembling all over, and with his nose an inch from the ground.

‘It's a shame to bring a poor old dog like that to a show,' said a man in the crowd.

‘Perry,
darling
!' I whispered.

But Perry still drooped and kept his tail tightly curled underneath his stomach. Of course, I
could
have pulled it out, but I had a feeling that, if I did, I would be prosecuted by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, so I lifted him off the table and prepared to leave the ring.

As soon as he felt his feet on the ground, Perry forgot to be ‘Old Dog', and pranced off with head erect and tail in the air. ‘Well, I'm damned,' said the man in the crowd.

The next event was the Dog with the Most Bewitching Eyes. Lady B and I entered Fay and Perry more as a generous gesture towards the Red Cross than anything else, for nobody, except Lady B, who brushes her, has ever seen Fay's eyes, and Perry's expression has never been his strong point. Indeed, he glared at the Judges with such cold dislike that they recoiled from him in horror, and I heard one say that if there was a booby prize for that class he'd know where to give it.

Not even my loyalty to the Red Cross could make me enter Perry for the Dog Most Obedient to its Owner, but he and I found a nice little place in a sunny corner where we could admire Mrs Savernack's word of command and the obedience of her Scottie, who got first prize.

After that it was the Best Groomed, Cared For and Kept Dog. This was the big event of the day as far as Lady B and I were concerned, and we led Fay and Perry into the ring, our hearts thumping with excitement.

There was a big entry for this event, but one by one the owners left the ring until only Fay and Perry were left. When they stood side by side on the Judges' table and licked each other's noses, there was a burst of applause from the crowd.

‘These dogs are both personal friends of mine,' said Faith, who felt quite unable to face her responsibilities as a member of the Committee, and she left the ring and went and sat with the Conductor.

‘Nice condition,' said the Judge, running his hand down Perry's black satin black. ‘What's his age?'

I held up ten fingers and then four.

‘Ah, doesn't like it mentioned,' said the Judge in an understanding way, and I wondered how I could ever have disliked him. Then I saw him staring at the bald patch at the tip of Perry's tail, and I knew that all was lost.

Lady B was quite upset about taking the prize from us, but later Perry and I walked away with Faith's Special, ‘Dog Most Like Its Owner', and she felt better about it.

We nearly won the Dog Race (Owner to Run Backwards), too, but just at the finish Perry caught sight of the spaniel and twisted his lead round my legs. Some people fall elegantly and gracefully - I am not one. When I got back to my chair, Lady B said, ‘Fancy those knickers lasting all this time. Didn't you get them before the war?'

Faith and I had to wait in a queue until our turn came for Madame Zanana, the fortune-teller. Faith went in first and was closeted with her for a long time. I was just beginning to wonder whether it was worth waiting, even to hear
that Bill was going to get a D.S.O., when she came out, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes shining.

‘Was she good, Faith?' I said.

‘Marvellous!' said Faith, and rushed away. I saw her take the Conductor into a corner of the rockery and kiss him, but there was no time to reflect on this peculiar behaviour, for it was my turn for Madame Zanana, and I knocked at the door and went in.

Madame Zanana was a delightful, apple-cheeked old woman. As soon as I sat down, she said, ‘You baint a married woman, be you, my dear?'

Before I had time to reply, there was a knock at the door and Mr Savernack walked in and said, ‘What do I owe you, Madame Zanana?' and the Dogs' Jamboree was over, and that was all I got for my half-crown.

But what
do
you think Madame Zanana told Faith?

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

H
ENRIETTA

Owner to run backwards

 

 

 

November 17, 1943

M
Y
D
EAR
R
OBERT

Faith is looking radiant. She feels perfectly well, looks lovelier than ever and has produced from her capacious wardrobes some dazzling tea-gowns, which she would never have had a chance of wearing otherwise, and which she changes several times a day. Charles keeps telling her to go for long country walks, but Faith hates walking at the best of times, so she spends most of the day on the sofa, while the Conductor brings her cups of Ovaltine.

Our Faith has always had an eye to the main chance, and she has now started a Sewing Bee for her baby, for which you provide your own materials (bought with your own coupons), and bring your own tea. She was surprised, and rather hurt, when the Baby Bees, as she called them, didn't prove wildly popular, and when people found that they weren't even going to be given drinks before they went home there was a distinct falling-off, until at last the only members left were Lady B, and me and the Conductor, who taught himself to crochet as soon as Faith whispered her secret, and has embarked on a pram rug.

Lady B is a quick and experienced knitter, and has already made one small pink and one small blue woolly coat. She made the pink one first to please the Conductor, who wants a girl, but this threw Faith into such a frenzy that she quickly brought some blue wool and began another. It is nice to know that whichever sex the baby turns out to be,
one
of the parents will be pleased, and, of course, there is just a chance that both of them will be.

Lady B has plumped for a girl, mostly, I think, because she likes knitting pink wool, but she says it is because the mothers of daughters are so much nicer than the mothers of sons, and that Faith has had quite enough spoiling in her
life as it is, and it would do her good to have a pretty daughter to throw her into the shade.

She made this announcement during one of the Baby Bees, and the Conductor was very much upset. ‘How can you say such cruel things to darling Faith?' he said, and he threw down his crochet and ran to kneel beside her sofa. ‘You ought to remember her Condition.'

‘Faith's condition is a perfectly normal one for a young married woman,' said Lady B, crisply, ‘and if we've got to tiptoe about the place and talk in whispers for the next two months just because she's going to have a baby, I, personally, shall stay away.'

Lady B says she has noticed a certain amount of War Weariness, anxiety neurosis and Slackening of the War Effort in this place lately, and she has adopted a bracing attitude to counteract it. But nobody is ever offended by what Lady B says to them, and she has certainly done the Conductor, who began the prospective father's anxious pacing as soon as he knew he was going to be one, a power of good.

‘Pick up your crochet and go on with it, dear. Darling Lady B is only jealous because she never had any sons herself,' said Faith placidly, and the Conductor went back to his chair, picked up his crochet, turned in his toes and assumed the heavy frown engendered by this labour of love.

This labour of love

‘I suppose I asked for that,' said Lady B, with the greatest good nature. ‘I bet Henrietta wants it to be a boy, anyway,'
said Faith, who won't allow us to talk about anything at the Baby Bee except the Bee Baby.

‘I don't mind which it is as long as I don't have to push it about in its pram,' I said.

‘But Henrietta, I was relying upon you for at least one afternoon a week!'

‘Then you're going to be disappointed, Faith,' I said. ‘Of all the back-breaking, inside-dropping, dreary occupations, pushing a sleeping baby about the streets in a perambulator heads the list.'

‘What a wicked thing to say!'

‘I love Bill and the Linnet, and I wouldn't not have had them for anything, but I can honestly say that I have spent the dreariest hours of my life pushing them around in their prams, and I'm never going to do it again if I can help it.'

‘But don't you want to push the Linnet's babies about?'

‘No!'

‘Not even Bill's?'

‘No!'

‘There's something very hard about Henrietta,' said Faith to Lady B.

‘It probably makes her back ache,' said Lady B, who always thinks of something kind to say on my behalf.

‘I've been making enquiries about motor-prams, so that darling Faith won't get too tired,' said the Conductor, ‘but you can't get them now, because of the petrol. You know, I don't think this crochet is going right. It seems to get smaller and smaller' and he held it up.

‘It's a Victory Pram Rug,' said Lady B. ‘You'll have to embroider it down the front with three dots and a dash.'