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Freddie http://the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=12&t=4861

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Wed Aug 06, 2008 7:16 pm ]
Post subject:	Freddie
I asked a couple of mods whether they thought I could post this here; and they suggested that St Clare's was the most appropriate place for it - and if, perhaps, it isn't, then I am sure someone will be kind enough to move it. It's not set at the Chalet School, although it might possibly end up there - I don't know yet. But I hope that young Freddie is the type of schoolgirl that EBD might have written. And that you enjoy it. “I wish I could come with you to Southampton!” exclaimed Winifred Darrow, known to one and all as “Freddie”, for what felt like the tenth time. “And I have already told you that it can’t be done!” replied her mother, rather sharply. “I couldn’t book the extra room at the hotel, as it was full, and even had I been able to, I don’t want you missing two days of school unnecessarily. Besides which – well – he is my husband as well as your father, and I’d quite like a little private time with him just at first!” Freddie blushed. “I’m a brute, Mums!” she exclaimed. “I really didn’t think how it would be for you!” “I know you didn’t, but I think it is about time you learnt to think of other people as well as yourself, you know. You are nearly fifteen now, too old to be a thoughtless child! Now, you have your overnight case as well as your schoolbag, yes? Then kiss me, and be off. I will see you tomorrow, and I expect you will have great fun at the Morley’s tonight!” Freddie departed on the word for her short walk to the big school she attended each day. But she was in a state of high excitement, for tomorrow she would see her father again for the first time in nearly six years. It was in the early autumn of 1940 that she had last seen him. Major Richard Darrow had helped evacuate his men from the beaches of Dunkerque before accepting transport himself, and it had been on his last leave before his regiment had been posted to Singapore that Freddie and her mother had last seen him. Freddie, at the time, had been a child of eight, who spent most of her time with her nurse. Now, something over six years later, she was rising fifteen, and not only had no need of a nursemaid but was learning, along with her mother, to run a house with no servants at all. Their home, Westover Hall, had been requisitioned in 1940, and thus far, had not been returned to them. At first, they had lived in a little cottage on the estate, but when Freddie was old enough to go to St Peter’s, her mother took a small house within walking distance of the school. They had learnt, by trial and error, to cook and to make the most of the rations, and had settled down very happily together, but for the constant worry of what had happened to Major Darrow. He had disappeared with the Japanese invasion of Singapore, and no word had come for the rest of the war. It was not until a few weeks after VJ day that a telegram came to say that he was alive and in hospital in Singapore. It was several months before he was thought strong enough to stand the long sea voyage home, and repatriation by air, as some former prisoners-of-war had been, was not to be thought of. However, he was coming home at last, and on this February day in 1946, Freddie was not too sure whether she felt excited or scared by the prospect. But as she arrived at the school gates, she was joined by her best friend, Rosalind Morley, and the school day began. Had the other members of IVA, of which Freddie was a leading light, realised that the staff’s decision to set spot tests in all their subjects during the next 48 hours was largely to ensure that Freddie concentrated on her work, they might have resented it. However, beyond wondering what had got into the collective staff, they dismissed spot tests as one of the hazards of school life, and concentrated on what, to them, was the far more enthralling subject of who would be selected for the Under 15 netball team for the forthcoming match against Branscombe Park. Freddie, who preferred hockey to netball, did not expect to be chosen, but hoped that Rosalind would be. The day ended with a games lesson, during which both the hopefuls and those who had no prospects of playing in the match were made to work hard and generally shake the fidgets out of themselves. Then Freddie went home with Rosalind to the large and cheerful vicarage where she was a frequent and welcome guest.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Wed Aug 06, 2008 7:23 pm ]
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This looks fascinating Mrs Redboots - looking forward to more, whether or not Freddie actually ends up at the CS edited cos I couldn't spell

Author:	Elder in Ontario [ Wed Aug 06, 2008 7:46 pm ]
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This certainly looks fascinating, and I look forward to reading more about Freddie, regardless of whether she does, in the end, go to the Chalet School or not.

Author:	jilianb [ Wed Aug 06, 2008 8:39 pm ]
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This looks really interesting. Looking forward to hearing more about Freddie. Thanks Mrs Redboots

Author:	Abi [ Wed Aug 06, 2008 8:56 pm ]
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This looks interesting and sounds very authentic. Looking forward to seeing what happens to Freddie.

Author:	JustJen [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 4:14 am ]
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Oh this looks very interesting Mrs.Redboots

Author:	Miss Di [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 7:34 am ]
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An interesting beginning, thanks.

Author:	JackieP [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 12:34 pm ]
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This does look interesting, and who knows where Freddie will end up, especially as her school has a rival which is known to the CS... JackieP

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 2:01 pm ]
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JackieP wrote: This does look interesting, and who knows where Freddie will end up, especially as her school has a rival which is known to the CS... JackieP I went back to check that and suddenly realised which school and who. Thanks. This is looking good

Author:	Vick [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 4:11 pm ]
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Looking interesting. Looking forward to more... Thanks Mrs Redboots

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 8:15 pm ]
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I had absolutely no idea who Freddie was until I followed her to the vicarage. I probably ought to rewrite the first bit, but not now! Rosalind’s grandfather, Canon Trevennor, had been the Vicar of the parish for nearly forty years, and had hoped to have retired five years earlier, but with many of the younger men away serving as chaplains to the armed forces, he had not been able to. His wife had died some years earlier, and he was glad to open his home to his daughter Jill and her family after her husband had been killed on the Atlantic convoys. He himself had lost no sons, although one had died in boyhood, and knew himself blessed that nine of his ten children, and Freddie’s mother, Gerry, who had been his ward, were still alive. He came in to greet the girls, and receive their hugs. “Well, my Freddie,” he asked. “Excited? Your mother got off all right; your uncle Bear is home and walked her to the station.” “I am rather excited, Grandfather,” confessed Freddie, cheerfully. “I can’t wait until tomorrow!” “I hope your father will be well enough to travel tomorrow; your mother has promised to ring up if they need a few more days in Southampton. You must expect to find him much changed, you know.” “Yes – Grandfather?” Freddie, hesitated, not quite sure how to put what she wanted to say into words. “What is it, dear?” The old man smiled down at his adoptive granddaughter. “Well – will he look like those pictures of the poor people who were in the concentration camps?” Inwardly shocked that Freddie should have seen such pictures, Canon Trevennor shook his head. “I expect he will be very thin, but don’t forget, he’s had nearly four months in hospital, so I expect he’ll be much better by now. Don’t be frightened of him, though – he is still your father, even if he does look ill.” “Oh, I won’t be frightened; and anyway, God has brought him back to us, so I’m thankful. But – but Uncle Martin will never come home; won’t Auntie Jill and Rosalind and the twins mind that Daddy has come home?” “No, they won’t. Oh, I don’t say this hasn’t brought the old sadness back for them – of course it has – but they have been sensible enough to talk about it and pray about it, and they have come to terms with it now. And they are very happy for you and your mother, you know that.” “Yes, I hoped so. Thank you Grandfather, that does help.” “And you know, we are always here if you want to talk about things.” “I know, thanks awfully. I think I’d better go and get changed now; Ros will be wondering where I am!” It was perhaps as well that, after a day of tests, neither girl had very much homework. Rosalind’s twin brothers were too young to have very much work in the evenings, and by six o’clock all the schoolbooks were put away. After supper, the family played Racing Demon until the twins had to go to bed, while the two girls listened to ITMA on the radio and relaxed before their own bedtime. As a treat, they were given cocoa instead of the usual milk and biscuits before they went to bed, as Auntie Jill hoped it would help Freddie to sleep. And, indeed, when she peeped in on the girls before going to bed herself, both were sleeping sweetly. Freddie, however, woke up earlier than usual, wondering why she felt so nervous. Then she remembered – Daddy would probably be home today! She got up before she was called, bathed and dressed, and was downstairs and laying the table for breakfast a good ten minutes before Auntie Jill came downstairs. The day dragged interminably. Freddie had to concentrate in school – the staff saw to that, and there were tests again in many lessons. But it still seemed an eternity before lunch, and the double art lesson that took up most of a Thursday afternoon felt as if it would never end. Finally the day came to an end. No message had come through to say that Freddie should go to the Vicarage, so she went home. The house was empty. Freddie let herself in with her latchkey, hung up her coat and beret and, as was her normal practice, lit a small fire in the drawing-room and then made herself something to eat. She settled down to try to do her homework – although it has to be said that her work left a great deal to be desired, and it is not possible to learn your rep when one ear is open for the sound of a taxi. Just as Freddie was wondering whether her parents would be home that night after all, or whether she had better ring up the Vicarage and beg a bed for another night, the taxi came.

Author:	PaulineS [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 8:24 pm ]
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Thanks this is developing into a facinating drabble.

Author:	Catherine [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 8:33 pm ]
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Interesting to find out who Freddie is! I wonder if she's inherited her mother's musical gifts! Looking forward to seeing how the story develops ... Thanks, Mrs Redboots.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 8:46 pm ]
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Oh wow! That's really super to find out this is who Freddie really is Thanks Mrs Redboots

Author:	Sandra [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 9:03 pm ]
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This is fascinating. It's not something that was ever really covered in the CS books.

Author:	Abi [ Thu Aug 07, 2008 11:59 pm ]
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Oooh, excellent - so that's who Freddie is! This is looking really good.

Author:	JustJen [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 3:40 am ]
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Ah, mystery solved about Freddie's mother. Thanks for the update Mrs. Redboots

Author:	Miss Di [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 5:25 am ]
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Thanks for the update, I love the way you've brought Freddie into Our World!

Author:	Elbee [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 8:55 am ]
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What a good way to bring back families we already know, but had been forgotten by EBD! Thanks Mrs Redboots, looking forward to more of this.

Author:	Alison H [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 9:01 am ]
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This looks really interesting - AFAIK Gerry just vanished after briefly reappearing as Grizel's friend!

Author:	Jennie [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 12:50 pm ]
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Very interesting, I always liked Gerry Challoner, and I hope she didn't give up her music after marriage.

Author:	Emma A [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 1:41 pm ]
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This is shaping up to be a really interesting drabble. Thank-you very much.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 3:35 pm ]
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Thank you for your comments! She grabbed her coat and ran down the path to meet them, hating the sudden shyness she felt and telling herself firmly not to be such a baby. There was her mother getting out of the car, and Jim Bates, the driver, getting the cases out of the boot. But who was this old, bent man? Was this really the strong, upright father Freddie remembered from six years earlier? “Daddy?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as shocked as she felt. He turned and smiled – and yes, he was old, bent, grey and impossibly frail, but he was still her Daddy! He held out her arms and she ran into them. “Come on, let’s get you in out of the cold!” she exclaimed. “I’ve lit the fire in the drawing-room. Mums, I haven’t started supper because I didn’t know what time you’d be arriving or what you would want – there’s plenty of that pie left and there are potatoes and sprouts and do you want me to go and put hot bottles in the bed, or -- ” She stopped, conscious that she was babbling rather. Meanwhile, her father had taken her arm, and they were walking, rather slowly, up the short drive to the house. “So this is where you are!” said her father. The first words he had so far spoken. “I had no idea you weren’t at Westover any more.” “It’s really nice, Daddy, come and see! The army wanted Westover, and goodness knows when they’ll get round to giving it back. But we’re warm and snug in the winter.” She led the way into the house, turning her father to the left as he entered the front door, into the pretty drawing-room where the fire could not be said to blaze merrily – it was too small for that – but at least glowed cheerfully. “Let me take your coat!” she said, and, suiting action to word, helped her father sit in one of the two arm-chairs that fronted the fire. “We rather live in here,” explained her mother. “Coal is rationed, of course, and although we do have electric heaters, they are very expensive to run and I try not to use them more than I must. In the summer, of course, it’s different.” Freddie, meanwhile, slipped into the kitchen, filled the big kettle and put it on the gas-stove. Then she popped her head round the door, and asked again what she should do about supper. “There’s masses of that pie left,” she said, and added, to her father, “It’s a rabbit pie; Mrs Woodall sent it over on Monday, and there were some sprouts left, and some potatoes.” “That sounds lovely, darling,” said her mother. “Will you see to it? Have you finished your homework?” “Well, sort of; I don’t really know my rep, I was listening for the taxi, but I know it well enough that if I put it under my pillow tonight, it should be okay – I mean, all right – tomorrow.” “I’m afraid Freddie’s picked up some American slang; we had a couple of regiments stationed here for awhile, and they were very good to the children – put on film shows and concerts for them. But oh dear, they do have some weird and wonderful expressions.” “Really,” said Freddie, “they put them on for themselves, but they invited us so that they had an excuse to watch cartoons which they might have thought too kiddish without us along too!” The kitchen opened straight out of the drawing-room, so she kept the adjoining door open while she slipped the pie into the oven and swiftly peeled potatoes and Brussels sprouts and, with the ease of long practice, put them on to cook. Mrs Darrow remembered that the grocer had “found” a bottle of whisky for them in honour of the Major’s imminent return, and poured them both a small peg, telling Freddie that she might have a little orange squash, if she wished, as it was such a special occasion. The toast, obviously, was “Welcome home!” Major Darrow drank his whisky, which brought a little colour to his cheeks, but was not able to finish even the modest portion of pie that was all he had taken. During the meal, conversation proved difficult. Freddie had started by chatting as she normally would have to her mother at the end of a school day, but it soon became apparent that, most of the time, her father had no idea what she was talking about. For him, everything was strange, from the house, to the very fact that the small girl he had left behind was now a strapping schoolgirl. He had no idea of the conditions in which they lived, the rationing of food, clothing and heating materials, even current affairs such as the current government were more or less news to him. “We were given a ‘News from Britain’ leaflet but I couldn’t really take it in,” he explained. It was almost a relief when, the meal finished, Major Darrow expressed his intention of going to bed almost immediately. “But first, Gerry, do we have a piano? Can you play for us? I used to dream of listening to you playing the piano for me.” Mrs Darrow hesitated. “We do have a piano, it’s in the other room; but it’s very cold in there, and I was thinking only yesterday that it needs tuning again. It’s not a very good-quality piano, but I use it mostly for lessons, so I didn’t want a good one. The Bechstein is in store along with much of the other stuff from Westover.” “Oh, do play, Mums, please. If we leave this door open, and the kitchen door, you’ll get a bit of heat in there, and you’re nice and warm now, aren’t you?” Persuaded, Mrs Darrow went into the small room that the builders of the house had thought would be a dining-room, but which the Darrows used as a music-room. And soon the strains of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” stole through the house. Freddie was horrified to notice, a few minutes later, tears streaming down her father’s cheeks.

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 3:49 pm ]
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Sandra wrote: This is fascinating. It's not something that was ever really covered in the CS books. It is in Head Girl's Difficulties when the Atherton's father was missing after WW1 and finally returns long after everyone but Mrs Atherton though he was dead. (Rosamund Atherton is Blosson Willoughby's mother and Cesca Atherton is Nita Eltringham's mother) Anyway, thanks for the explaination of who Freddie is. Poor Mr Darrow for having to catch up on so much, he's bound to find it pretty emotional

Author:	Abi [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 3:57 pm ]
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This isn't going to be easy for any of them, is it? I hope they settle down well together again.

Author:	PaulineS [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 4:49 pm ]
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Thank you for the update.

Author:	Elder in Ontario [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 5:31 pm ]
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Thanks for the 2 updates - I can this is going to be absolutely fascinating - just hope I'll be able to keep up with it whilst I'm away!

Author:	jilianb [ Fri Aug 08, 2008 7:46 pm ]
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thanks Mrs Redboots. This is lovely. How strange it must have been to return after several years absence to so many changes.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Sat Aug 09, 2008 4:16 pm ]
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The more I get to know Freddie, the more I have this lowering feeling that I ought to rewrite the whole thing from scratch! Oh well.... I know you'll forgive any glaring lapses in continuity “Goodness, whatever did you do?” asked Rosalind in Break next day, when the two girls finally had a chance to talk. “Went on listening to the music, of course, what else could I do? I wasn’t sure whether to pretend not to notice, or whether to go and sit on the arm of his chair. But he saw I’d noticed, and smiled at me, and wiped his eyes, so I stayed put. And Mums only played the Beethoven, and then the Chopin polonaise she loves – oh, you know the one – before she said it was too cold, and came away. So I went and did the washing-up while she got Daddy to bed. “But then – oh Ros, it was awful – he woke up in the night and he was screaming and shouting. I went to see if there was anything I could do, but Mums said it was just a nightmare, but it sounded awful!” “Did he come to breakfast?” “No; Mums said she would let him sleep as long as he wanted, and take him a tray up later. She hasn’t any home-lessons this morning; she’s cancelled them all for the next week.” “Will she be in this afternoon? I have my lesson with her today, you might remember!” “I don’t know; I imagine she’ll ring up if she’s not coming in. She didn’t say this morning. Hope she comes in; I might ask if I can do my homework at school and walk home with her later, if she does.” Freddie had often done that when she was a Junior, but some confused feelings that Middles didn’t walk home with their mothers had prevented her from doing so during the past couple of years. And, of course, she had her hens to see to, which she preferred to do in daylight if at all possible. Mrs Darrow was there, though, as normal that afternoon -- “and made mincemeat of me!” exclaimed Rosalind later – and Freddie, true to her word, worked in the room set aside for those who needed to stay after school for one reason or another until her mother’s last lesson finished at 5:30. “Oh Freddie!” said her mother, when she saw her. “I do wish you’d gone home; I told Daddy you would be home and get his tea for him!” “Oh, I’m sorry, Mums – I didn’t think, and I did want to talk to you. Ought we to ring up and tell him not to worry?” “I’ve told you before that you are too old not to think before you act! Another time, please check with me if you want to stay at school. Yes, I think we’d better ring.” That accomplished, the mother and daughter set off on their walk home. “What did you want to say, in particular?” asked Mrs Darrow. “Is Daddy going to be all right? He looks so ill and old and he was crying yesterday when you played the piano, and then having that nightmare which sounded so awful.” “We don’t know yet,” said her mother. “He hasn’t told me much of what he has been through, but I gather that it was pretty ghastly. I don’t want you to talk to him about it unless he brings up the subject first; it will be something he wants to forget about as soon as possible.” “He was a prisoner-of-war, I take it?” “Yes, but they seem to have been treated very badly, forced to work building a railway, I think Daddy said. And half-starved. He doesn’t quite know why he didn’t die – lots of his men did, and in some ways I think he feels almost guilty that he’s come home to us. So don’t talk about it unless he wants to.” “But what do I talk about with him? I mean, he has no idea about me and school and Ros and games and things – I don’t even think he was interested, last night.” “But it’s just those kind of everyday things that you need to talk to him about. Don’t you see, Freds, it’s just that will help him get settled back. You can always ask him to interrupt if he doesn’t understand!” “Mmm-mmm, yes I suppose. But he seems so frail and ill.” “He is rather frail and ill just now, I’m afraid. His doctors in Singapore said he basically needs good food and time. Dr Payne was going to call in to see him this afternoon – which is one reason why I came into school, to give them a chance to talk privately – and I’m sure that if he thinks Daddy should have any special medicine or food, he’ll say.” “Food might be a problem, though,” mused Freddie, thoughtfully. She knew all too well how difficult it sometimes was to manage on the rations, and how dependent they were on what their garden could produce, and the hens that they kept at the top of the old orchard. “Talking of which, did I tell you what Auntie Jill said about the bread rationing and the twins?” “No, and I think perhaps you better hadn’t! Those twins have the appetites of twenty; I do hope Jill won’t starve herself to keep them fed.” “Ros will see that she doesn’t. Don’t worry, Mums – she won’t let Auntie Jill starve, any more than I’d let you. Which reminds me, I’m starving right now – what’s for supper?”

Author:	Alison H [ Sat Aug 09, 2008 5:53 pm ]
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It's going to be interesting to see how her dad adjusts to being home again, especially as he's obviously been through quite an ordeal .

Author:	Sarah_K [ Sat Aug 09, 2008 6:36 pm ]
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Settling back into normal life must have felt almost impossible, quite apart from any health issues. I'm glad Freddie is asking how best she can help even if schoolgirl heedlessness is one of her minor faults g Thank you.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Sat Aug 09, 2008 7:31 pm ]
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Those who were on the Burma Railway had a particularly nasty time, and most of them didn't want to talk about it much when they came back Thanks Mrs R

Author:	JustJen [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 1:49 am ]
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This is a very interesting story Mrs. Redboots.

Author:	Miss Di [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 6:12 am ]
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There was an article in the SMH just this weekend on Australian prisoners of war you might find interesting Mrs Redboots, http://www.smh.com.au/news/alan-ramsey/ ... 74481.html.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 2:18 pm ]
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Thanks, Miss Di - that was an interesting article! Few of that generation ever do talk about their war service; I have always known that my father was wounded at Arnhem, but it's only really been in the last few years he's ever talked much about it - and even now, he hardly ever says anything. And my mother would like him to take his grandchildren to show them "his" war places, but he doesn't see the point.... My great-aunt, who was involved in helping the French resistance by providing somewhere for them to spend the night on their first and last nights in England, was far more forthcoming and even wrote a book on the subject! But as the days went past, things didn’t get any easier. Major Darrow continued frail, and became increasingly frustrated at his inability to throw off his weakness. It was several weeks before he could leave the house, even to walk round the garden and admire the vegetables Freddie and her mother had so painstakingly grown and the hens which were Freddie’s pride and joy. Each night he woke himself and his household screaming in fear from his nightmares. And meanwhile, he had to adapt to a very changed world. It was, perhaps, the change in Freddie that he almost seemed to resent the most. Before, he had had very little to do with her, beyond an hour or so of her company each day. She had been either with her nurse or at school. But now, although she was at school each day, she was always there in the evenings, working at her homework, helping get the supper and wash it up afterwards. And, if he were honest, he had no idea how to deal with her. He had little knowledge of, or interest in, her particular enthusiasms, with the possible exception of her hens, and had no idea of telling her about his experiences on the Burma railway. So they found very little to say to one another. In addition, her constant presence in the evenings was another irritation. She was not allowed to do her homework in her bedroom, as she would have preferred, because the weather remained cold and the bedrooms were unheated. This meant that her homework had to be done in the drawing-room, at a card-table long since set up for the purpose. This, however, meant that her father could not listen to the wireless that had come to be a lifeline for him, unless there happened to be a concert playing, and visitors had to be sent away when she came in from school. Freddie, unfortunately, was aware of this, and began to rush her work rather, leading to a falling-off in her marks and a drop in her place in form from fifth or sixth down to fifteenth or sixteenth. Major Darrow longed to visit his estate, but was unable to walk round the farms and woodland as he used, and petrol was still severely rationed even had the family owned a car. The army could give him no date for the return of Westover Hall, and it seemed that the Canadian troops that had been billeted there prior to D-Day had done such tremendous damage to the house that it was improbable the family could live there again. The estate itself had prospered, with much of the land being farmed intensively to provide food. Most of the men had been called up, of course, but the Land Army had provided several young women who worked more or less hard and kept the farms running. The agent, Mr Keyes, had died during the war, but his widowed daughter had asked to be allowed to take over, and Mrs Darrow had seen no need to refuse her, and, indeed, it seemed as though all ran more efficiently than before. But Major Darrow found the thought of a woman agent, if not shocking, then certainly disturbing. He was soon to discover, however, that she was very efficient, knew the work thoroughly, and was as utterly business-like as he could wish.

Author:	Elder in Ontario [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 2:19 pm ]
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Thanks for these very interesting insights. We know something of the horrors the men forced to work on the Burma Railway endured, and how hard it was for those who returned to re-adjust. We have to remember that it was hard for their families to know what to say and do to help - clearly Gerry's fundamentally pragmatic nature and common sense approach will help her here, and enable her to help her daughter, too.

Author:	Abi [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 3:07 pm ]
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I don't know what to say - I can't begin to imagine what Major Darrow has been through, and how difficult it must be for him to adjust. And it can't be exactly easy for Freddie and Gerry, either.

Author:	PaulineS [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 3:20 pm ]
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The lack of food was hard on all the population, but it must have been evn tougher of those returning from prisoner of war camps who needed extra building up. Thanks for the drabble and updates.

Author:	Alison H [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 3:56 pm ]
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It must be so hard for all of them, especially at a time when people weren't encouraged to talk about how they were feeling.

Author:	jilianb [ Sun Aug 10, 2008 4:06 pm ]
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How difficult it must have been to return to such a changed world. Where roles have altered with women having more involvement in the workplace. Thanks Mrs Redboots.

Author:	Miss Di [ Mon Aug 11, 2008 4:39 am ]
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Thanks Mrs Redboots, this is a definite weepy. How much harm has the "Stiff Upper Lip" done over the years.

Author:	Vick [ Mon Aug 11, 2008 3:22 pm ]
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interesting to see how he'll manage to adjust in a world completely changed. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Tue Aug 12, 2008 5:58 pm ]
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Thanks, one and all. Here is the next bit. Meanwhile, Freddie was worrying about her work. She knew that her parents would be very disappointed if her marks remained low, and, indeed, she didn’t like it much herself. But she didn’t feel she could discuss the issue with her mother, nor, of course, with her father. “It’s not that he says anything,” she explained to Rosalind, “but he fidgets and rustles the paper, and sighs, and sucks his teeth, and you can feel he’s just longing for me to finish so he can talk or listen to the wireless again. So I hurry, and then I make silly mistakes and don’t know my rep and stuff like that. I don’t know what to do – it’s going to be at least another month before they’ll say it’s warm enough for me to do my homework in my bedroom, but if I go on losing marks like this, there’ll be a huge row.” “There will indeed,” said Rosalind. “I don’t know what to say; you can scarcely come to live with us for the next month!” “Oh, Ros, I wish I could, you know! It’s just so difficult at home now, Daddy’s so miserable a lot of the time, and he doesn’t seem to get much better. Although he did come and look at my chickens the other day – he’s better enough to walk up the garden and back. And, of course, my chickens – I can’t abandon them, and I promised Mums, when we got them, that I would look after them. I wanted a pig, too, but Mums drew the line at that!” “I don’t see why she did; we have one each year, and Mummy says the bacon and ham have kept us going the past three winters.” “Us too, of course! And if we had our own pig we’d have just that much more. But Mums said the Vicarage has a much bigger garden and far fewer neighbours than we have. And that my hens are more than enough to inflict on ours. Neighbours, I mean.” The conversation drifted on about chickens, pigs and eggs, and Freddie’s academic problems were, temporarily, forgotten. But after lunch, Nemesis – and help – descended upon her in the shape of her form-mistress, Mrs Barnes, who asked Freddie to come into her form-room for a moment while the rest went off to play netball. “I have spoken to Miss Carr; she is expecting you to be delayed. Now Winifred, would you mind explaining exactly why your marks have been so bad this past fortnight? The staff have no complaints about your behaviour in form, I am thankful to say – and so I should hope, from someone who will, we hope, be a Senior in September – but your homework gets worse and worse. Why, please?” Freddie rubbed her foot on the floor and said nothing, but Mrs Barnes had no idea of letting her get away with this. She had watched her covertly for the past few weeks, and didn’t like the way the girl was becoming more heavy-eyed and worried. Finally, Freddie broke down and told Mrs Barnes everything; how she loved her father, of course she did, but how difficult she found it having him at home, and always there, waiting politely for her to finish her homework so that the wireless could be turned on again. “And it just feels as if he wishes I wasn’t there, and I know it’s awful of me, but I sometimes wish he wasn’t there, and of course I ought not to feel like that at all,” she finished, weeping bitterly. Mrs Barnes was quiet for a moment. Her own husband, a doctor, had had a relatively easy war, and her children had been too young to be involved. Indeed, Evelyn, her youngest, was a shining light in Va and almost certain to be a prefect next year. Apart from her own return to teaching to free a younger woman for war service, something she enjoyed and hoped to continue until she retired, the war had made very few changes for her and her family. She had very little idea what Freddie and her family were going through, but realised that her loss of marks was not completely down to the less-than-ideal conditions in which she now did her homework. However, the latter was something that, she hoped, could be easily remedied. “I’m sure we can sort something out about your homework,” she said. “What days is your mother in school?” “Oh, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays,” said Freddie, twisting her sodden handkerchief in her hands and wondering what this had to do with anything. “So, why don’t we arrange for you to do your homework at school on those days, so your father can have an uninterrupted day at home, and then on the other days he will know you’ll be at home. I’m sure that if he knows he will have a couple of days without having to drop everything for your homework, it will make a big difference.” Freddie bit her lip. “Well, I could, I suppose, but the only thing is, who would get Daddy’s tea for him? I’ve been doing that as Mummy isn’t in to do it.” “Well, you’ll have to talk it over with both parents and come to a decision, but Freddie, whatever happens, you must be able to do your homework properly. That’s important enough that the matter will have to go to the headmistress if things don’t improve, and I don’t suppose any of us want that, do we?” “No, Mrs Barnes,” muttered Freddie. “As for the other, well, it’s been just you and your mother for all these years, and now it’s different, and that is always going to be difficult. But you must realise it’s probably difficult for your father, too. We don’t know exactly what he has been through, but it must have been pretty awful if he is waking up with nightmares every night, and to have come from all that to a home that’s completely different from what he knew must be hard, too.” “I know, Mrs Barnes, and that’s why I feel so awful, because I must be so selfish to mind.” “Not selfish, Freddie – if you were that, you wouldn’t be aware of your father’s needs as well as your own. It will come right; give it time. And do talk to your mother about working at school some nights each week.” Freddie agreed, and then ran off to join her classmates in a vigorous game of netball that pushed everything else to the back of her mind for awhile. At the end of school, she made her way over to the music department and, when her mother was between lessons, asked if they could make time to have a private talk. Her mother, slightly alarmed at the realisation that Freddie needed to make an appointment to talk privately to her, agreed that she would come up and see her when she was in bed. However, even before then, help was at hand from a most unexpected source.

Author:	Pat [ Tue Aug 12, 2008 8:37 pm ]
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Which was? Thanks Mrs Redboots. I'm really enjoying this.

Author:	PaulineS [ Tue Aug 12, 2008 9:00 pm ]
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This is so realistic. Hope Freddie's problems can be solved soon.

Author:	Miss Di [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 4:53 am ]
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Thanks Mrs Redboots, glad to see Mrs Barnes had some constructive suggestions to make.

Author:	Catherine [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 8:53 am ]
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I'm glad it looks as though Freddie is getting some help. Thanks.

Author:	Vick [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 11:47 am ]
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Lovely, Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Emma A [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 12:46 pm ]
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Thanks, Mrs Redboots - this is fascinating. I like the way Freddie understands why she's feeling this way, and also can see her father's point of view, too. Let's hope the situation can be sorted out soon, before father and daughter start resenting each other.

Author:	Elder in Ontario [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 1:38 pm ]
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Thanks, Mrs. Redboots - I'm really enjoying this very sympathetic portrayal of what conditions like Freddie's family's must have been like in the aftermath of the War.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 6:15 pm ]
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Miss Stewart was a long-term resident of the village of Westover. During the War she had done stalwart service with the WRVS, and now acted as an unofficial parish worker to the Rector there. There was no real harm in her, but her tongue was “hung in the middle”, to quote Freddie, and she could talk “the hind leg off a donkey”. It had seemed good to her to pay a call on Major Darrow that day, and she was in full swing when Freddie came in. “Well, nothing would please the Rector but that he would read the lesson, and you can’t imagine – why, Winnie, dearest! How very good to see you again. I heard in the village that your dear father was home, safe and sound, so I thought that next time I wanted to come into town I would call in to see him and make sure for myself, and I heard a rumour that there might be a kipper or two in the fishmongers, and Edie, my friend Miss Watts that I live with, you know, she is really partial to a kipper to her tea, but, you know, now that I’ve seen your father I think his need is greater than ours, so you must take the kippers --” she thrust a newspaper-wrapped parcel into Freddie’s hands “– no, I won’t take no, I really insist! But I must go now as if you’re home that means I will miss the 4:30 bus unless I really stir my stumps – dear me, no, I see I’ve already missed it, you must have been a little bit late; but the 5:00 bus will be along in a minute, so I’ll just be heading on....” and, still talking, she swept out of the front door leaving a bemused Freddie still clasping the parcel of kippers. Freddie went back into the drawing-room, and looked anxiously at her father. And he looked at her. Their lips twitched – and both of them roared with laughter. The laugh went on for a long time, and every time one of them showed signs of stopping, the other murmured “kippers!” and set themselves off again. Finally, though, they stopped laughing and wiped their eyes. “Oh dear,” said Freddie, “One mustn’t laugh. She does mean well, Miss Stewart, although I’ll be very tempted to say something if she calls me ‘Winnie’ very often! Poor Daddy – was she there for ages?” “I don’t think so,” said her father. “It just felt that way! Go and put those kippers in the larder, and let’s go and see to those chickens of yours. I need a breath of air, I think!” The shared laugh had cleared the air a bit between them, and it was with a sense of shared comradeship that they set off up the garden to see to the hens. “The garden is really very splendid,” said the Major. “Do you and your mother do it all yourselves?” “Oh no – normally Mr Lowther comes in once or twice a week and keeps us up to the mark, but he’s been away for a few weeks; his son has been in a military hospital in Scotland for several months and is going to be discharged and demobbed and goodness knows what else, and Mr Lowther hasn’t had any holidays for goodness knows how long, so he’s gone up to Scotland. I think he’s due back next week, actually, but ask Mums, she’ll know.” “So what has happened to the kitchen gardens at Westover?” asked the Major; the walled garden, about a mile from the house, having been the pride and joy of Lowther, the head gardener. “We asked Miss Keyes to divide it up among the various tenants. We all have to grow just as much food as we possibly can, you know, and as most of the younger gardeners were called up, and we couldn’t have run it ourselves, we’ve made it into – what did she call it -- ‘lotments’, something like that?” “Allotments, I think you mean. That’s a good idea. It would have been an awful waste to let it lie fallow – that means,” as Freddie looked at him questioningly, “to leave it without any cultivation – all those years.” “Yes, especially when we were being told to ‘Dig for Victory’ and all that. But maybe I’ll be able to grow some flowers soon – would it be horrendously selfish and unpatriotic, do you suppose, to put some roses at the front next summer?” “I don’t think it would be at all unpatriotic! Do you like gardening?” “Yes, I love it! I think that’s what I’d like to do when I leave school – be a lady gardener!” “Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be one, but right now I think I need to go back indoors soon. Have you finished up here?” “I think so,” Freddie said. “I think I’ve got all the eggs – they are not laying very much at the moment, it’s the wrong time of year, but there are four today! And I’ve put their food inside, so now, you see, I shut them up so the fox can’t get them. And lock the run, so that nobody else can, we hope, either!” They went indoors, Major Darrow, who had tired, leaning heavily on his daughter’s arm. She help him sit down and get comfortable, with a rug over his knees, and then made him a cup of tea, and, sitting at his feet, made a slice of toast for each of them at the fire. “No homework this evening?” asked the Major. “It’s Friday! I’ll do it in the morning before you come downstairs,” said Freddie, unguardedly. “Well, as long as it’s done tomorrow; you mustn’t do it on Sunday, of course.” “Oh, no Daddy, I wouldn’t dream of it. But what I must do is go and dig out the recipe books and find out how you cook kippers, because, truth to tell, I’ve not the first idea!”

Author:	Ela [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 6:21 pm ]
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This is lovely. I like Freddie so much already! And hopefully she and her father can get on with rebuilding their relationship after that shared laugh. Thank-you.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 10:00 pm ]
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That was a lovely section Mrs R - thank you! So pleased Freddie and her father could share the joke and break the ice

Author:	Nell [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 10:19 pm ]
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I'm so pleased I've just found this, I'm loving it. Had no idea who Freddie really was until I went and googled her mother and now I understand a little more I think. Thank you muchly!

Author:	Alison H [ Wed Aug 13, 2008 10:26 pm ]
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They do seem to be getting on better.

Author:	Tara [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 12:00 am ]
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That was a lovely episode. Miss Stewart deserves a medal for unintentionally bringing them together like that. Tickled at Freddie having to find out how to cook the kippers . Do hope things will become easier for them all, it's unimaginable really.

Author:	Mona [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 7:47 am ]
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Thank you for this. Freddie is a wonderful girl and I'm pleased to see her relationship with her father growing better!

Author:	PaulineS [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 8:50 am ]
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Thank you for the update. Freddie and her father are lovely here and so realistic.

Author:	Vick [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 3:28 pm ]
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Glad that Freddie & her Father have managed to start speaking more. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	MaryR [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 3:30 pm ]
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Such a loving girl, Freddie, and deserving of that attention from her father. Thanks, Mrs Redboots

Author:	Dawn [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 4:14 pm ]
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Really enjoying this - it's all very realistic and must have been terrible for Freddie and her mother trying to deal with her father and understand what he's been through

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 5:41 pm ]
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Thanks for your kind comments, which I really appreciate When Mrs Darrow came in she was relieved to notice the much easier atmosphere between Freddie and her father, and laughed heartily at the tale of the kippers – which didn’t prevent her from enjoying her share, Freddie having found a recipe book which explained how they should be prepared. “It occurs to me to wonder,” said Major Darrow, “what has happened to our servants. I suppose most of them went into war service?” “The maids did, certainly,” replied his wife. “But Martin and Mrs Martin decided to retire, and are living in a cottage in Westover village. He was a leading light in the local Home Guard and she worked very hard in the WRVS, but I haven’t seen them for a few months, and am not sure what they’re doing now.” “Oh, the Martins! As soon as I can get about a bit, I must go and see them. I have always had such a soft spot for him. Do you remember the time he gave notice?” “Did he?” asked Freddie, fascinated. “I don’t think I ever knew that.” “Oh,” explained her father, “it was long before you were born. Your mother and I had just got engaged, and Martin decided that the prospect of a new mistress was a bit much for him, so he gave in his notice and asked for a reference. Well, I was sorry enough to lose him – after all, I’d known him all my life – so I wrote out an excellent reference. He took it, read it through, and then said, ‘Well, Sir, since you think so much of me, I think I’d rather stay on in your service!’” “No!” said Freddie, laughing, “So what did you say?” “Well, what could I say? I took him back, and gladly. And it wasn’t long after that that he married Mabel, and she had no idea of giving up her place as our cook, so he settled down again.” “Why did he marry so late?” “Oh, she’s his second wife; his first wife died a long time before I was born. And Mabel was a widow, too. But Albert Martin was always a character, and I shall be glad to see him again.” “I’m surprised, actually, that more of the village haven’t called,” said Freddie. “Or have they, while I’ve been at school?” “I asked Miss Keyes to let it be known that your father isn’t really strong enough for visitors just yet,” said Mrs Darrow. “In fact, I’m really rather annoyed with Miss Stewart, but she means well, poor old thing.” “Remember her and the pig?” asked Freddie, with a grin. “Heavens yes, shall I ever forget?” laughed her mother. “So what happened?” asked the Major. “Oh, it was too silly,” said Freddie. “They decided to have the Flower Show again last summer to celebrate the peace – yes, I know it wasn’t peace with Japan then, but being at peace in Europe did make a huge difference. Only, of course, nobody has been growing flowers so it was all vegetables and crafts. And stalls and sideshows, of course. Mr Woodall gave a piglet, and there was bowling for the pig – I had a go, because I want a pig to go with my chickens, but of course I didn’t get anywhere. Anyway, the pig was in a sort of cage made of hay-bales, and young Jimmy Woodall went over to take it some water as it was a hot day. And I don’t know why he didn’t climb over the bales, but he decided to move them to take the water-dish in. And the piglet, of course, pushed out and ran off across the cricket-field towards the road.” She dissolved into giggles and couldn’t go on. “And poor Miss Stewart had been back to her house for something, and was just coming back into the field, and the piglet ran right towards her, with a fair few burly men running after it, and, of course, she was bowled right over and sat down hard. Freddie, you’re rather unkind to laugh; she might have hurt herself badly.” “Yes, I know, but she didn’t, and she just sat there looking so surprised! And then she said....” and Freddie tailed off into giggles again. “She said,” said her mother, “that she had always wanted to know what it was like to play rugby football, and now she knew it was not all it was cracked up to be! Freddie, it was really not that funny!” “Sorry, Mums,” said Freddie, sobering up. “Did they catch the piglet?” asked her father. “Yes, thankfully. And Jimmy Woodall got a hiding from his father, which rather served him right! If he hadn’t wanted to climb over the bales carrying the dish of water, he should have asked someone to hold while he climbed in and then pass it to him. Is there any pudding, Mums?” “There was some rice-pudding left; shall I hot it up, or shall we have it cold? And maybe open a bottle of raspberries?”

Author:	PaulineS [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 6:11 pm ]
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Love the run away pig. Glad Freddie and her father are finding more in common.

Author:	Alison H [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 7:58 pm ]
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It's a whole new world, isn't it? Presumably they had several servants/domestic staff before the war.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 8:20 pm ]
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Lovely scene - glad they can all laugh as a family and begin to share some memories of the things at least one of them wasn't present for, without resentment. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Tara [ Thu Aug 14, 2008 11:15 pm ]
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These tales are delightful and give the family the opportunity to share their experiences. It's so nice to hear them laughing together.

Author:	Vick [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 2:11 pm ]
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Lovely home scene. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	jilianb [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 6:56 pm ]
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Thanks Mrs Redboots. How lovely that they were able to forget the strains and laugh together as a family

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 7:34 pm ]
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Thank you for your kind comments! After Freddie had gone up to bed, her mother came up to see her, as promised. Freddie explained about the homework problem, and what Mrs Barnes had suggested. “Hmmm,” said her mother. “I quite see something will have to be done, but I’m not sure what. It is good that you get Daddy his tea when I’m not there, but obviously your work mustn’t suffer. You seemed to be getting on well with Daddy tonight; maybe we could talk about it together and see if he has any ideas.” Freddie was reluctant, as she didn’t really feel able to explain that she felt her father was always waiting for her to finish. But her mother insisted, and it was, in fact, her father who solved the problem. He had, for the first time since his return, slept the night through with no nightmares, and just grinned when his wife enquired what he thought they could do about Freddie’s homework. “She needs a bit of space to do it, but it’s still too cold for her to work in the garden-room or her bedroom; on the other hand, she doesn’t want to disturb you, either.” “I have been wondering,” he said, “why on earth she doesn’t do her homework in the kitchen. You have that cupboard affair with a pull-down door which she could use as a desk, and just take a chair in from the garden-room; it can be taken back afterwards. And heating isn’t a problem – you can turn the oven on a bit and keep the door open. And goodness knows, Freddie, you’re in and out of there often enough seeing to supper and all that!” Freddie and her mother looked at each other. “Now why on earth didn’t we think of that?” said Freddie. “That would work – and we can shut the connecting door, so you can still have your wireless on, or if someone comes to call, or whatever, and I can get on in peace! Daddy, you’re brilliant!” “I try, dear girl, I try!” laughed the Major. “But another thing – do you not learn music? I haven’t heard you practising at all.” Freddie went rather pink, and she and her mother looked at each other. “Well, you see, the thing is, much as I love to listen to Mums playing, or to concerts on the wireless, for that matter, if I’m going to actually make music, I’d rather play more modern stuff – Moonlight Serenade rather than Moonlight Sonata, if you see what I mean. And we didn’t know if you liked that sort of music, so...” “So she is practising at school for now. And, of course, that saves having to put the electric heater on in the dining-room. I hope, though, Freddie, that you also practice your scales and exercises, even though I’m not supervising your practice just now. You need a good foundation, whatever type of music you actually play.” Freddie mumbled something. In truth, although she did do some work on her scales and exercises, she only devoted about ten minutes of her practice to them, rather than the full half hour she knew she should. “You know, Mums,” she said, hastily changing the subject, “we ought to put a gas-fire in the dining-room. I know they’re hideous, but they warm a room up jolly quickly. Auntie Jill made Grandfather put one in his study, and she put one in the old playroom, and it’s meant Ros and the twins can do their prep in there, and they only have a real fire in the drawing-room, like we do.” “Well, if it were possible to get new gas-fires, I would,” said her mother. “But right now you can only get ones taken out of bombed houses, and I’m never sure how much I trust them. We don’t want to wake up and find ourselves gassed in our beds, do we?” “No, I suppose not,” said Freddie. “Why don’t you burn wood like we used to at Westover?” asked Major Darrow, curiously. “How would we get it here?” asked his wife. “You could scarcely carry it on the bus or on a bike, and there isn’t petrol enough to spare for someone to bring us a load on the back of a tractor.” “Sorry, I keep forgetting,” said the Major, shaking his head ruefully. “Not to worry,” said his wife. “Dr Payne said you might have trouble concentrating for a bit, didn’t he – it’s why you can’t read for very long. But now, I think, it is coffee time.”

Author:	PaulineS [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 8:41 pm ]
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Glad they have solved the problem of Freddie's homework. Hope they can find a gasfire for the dinning room soon.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 8:44 pm ]
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They are really getting to grips with things as a family now, aren't they - glad to see a night without nightmares, too - hopefully because some happier memories had been brought forward. Thanks Mrs R - really enjoying this

Author:	Alison H [ Fri Aug 15, 2008 9:45 pm ]
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Glad to see that they're making progress.

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Sun Aug 17, 2008 10:27 am ]
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Thanks for all the updates. Am glad Freddie and her father are able to laugh together and get the homework problem sorted out ok

Author:	Abi [ Mon Aug 18, 2008 12:47 am ]
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Lots of new updates! I'm so glad the situation is improving, especially between Freddie and her father.

Author:	Miss Di [ Mon Aug 18, 2008 4:55 am ]
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We've tried heating a room by turning on the oven. Sadly it didn't work. We'd rented a cabin in Mt Kaputar national park (which was heated by wood fires) and when we arrived in the dark and cold there was no wood there. We ended up warning up with brandy alexanders instead, however, I don't think they would help Freddie's homework. Thanks Mrs Redboots.

Author:	Vick [ Mon Aug 18, 2008 8:56 pm ]
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Glad they've solved Freddie's homework problem. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Thu Aug 21, 2008 6:43 pm ]
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Well, I've certainly turned the oven on and left its door ajar to warm myself up on very cold winter days before now! The characters do seem to go to Church rather a lot, but I am following EBD's descriptions of Sundays in the "Lorna" and "Monica" books here. The next day was Sunday. Freddie and her mother had developed a routine, during the War years, of attending Morning Service in Westover village, and then going to St Peter’s in the evenings. In fine weather they cycled to Westover, which was about three miles away; if it was wet, or likely to be, they took a bus. The buses ran every two hours on a Sunday, but they found that if they caught the 10:00 am bus to the village, they were there without too long to wait for the service, which started at 11:00. And, conveniently, the return bus left at 12:30, which meant they were able to get home comfortably in time for lunch. Since Major Darrow had been home, however, Freddie and her mother had been taking it in turns to go to Westover, while the other went to St Peter’s, so as not to leave him at home alone too long. “We are out quite enough during the week, as it is!” explained her mother, who nevertheless did not care to be out of touch with what was going on in the village. She had also given up her Sunday afternoon walks or cycle rides; this, however, was not to be thought of for Freddie who, weather permitting, would go round to St Peter’s Vicarage and join in with their plans for Sunday afternoon. Auntie Jill would usually give her her tea, and then she and Rosalind would go to the evening service together. This Sunday, however, was fine, and the forecast good. Major Darrow, with two good nights’ sleep under his belt, had come down for breakfast, and suddenly announced his intention of going to Church. “Um, how?” asked his wife. “You’re not nearly strong enough to walk as far as St Peter’s yet –” “Not St Peter’s, fond as I am of your adoptive family! No, if I am going to go to Church, and I should like to, I’ll go to Westover. There’s no reason not to send for Jim Bates and his taxi, is there? They could take us, and then come and fetch us at the end of the service.” “Well, if you’re sure you feel well enough,” said Mrs Darrow, rather dubiously. In truth, she knew that her husband would be warmly welcomed home by the village, many of whom were his tenants or present or past employees, and she wondered whether he was strong enough to stand up to the welcome. The taxi duly arrived, and bore them to Westover in style. Major Darrow paid off Jim Bates, and reminded him to return for them at 12:15. The family pew was at the front of the church, underneath the rather elaborate Gilbert Scott pulpit adorned with statues of various saints, including St George killing the dragon, and St Wilfred with his Bible. Freddie could not, of course, turn round during the service, but she was aware of rustlings and people coming in during the service. The Rector went into the pulpit for the sermon, and said: “My text today isn’t Luke 15:32, but I think you’ll agree that it ought to have been: ‘It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’” He then proceeded to preach on something rather different, but at the end of the service he changed the final hymn to “O Praise ye the Lord!” which was sung very loudly indeed. When the Benediction had been said and Freddie was free to look round again, she was amazed at how full the church was. Obviously, word that the Major was in church had spread throughout the village, and people who didn’t usually come to church had come down to see for themselves. There was a crowd of people in the churchyard, too, all waiting to see her father, and to cheer for him.

Author:	Ela [ Thu Aug 21, 2008 6:51 pm ]
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So sweet that they would want to welcome him, but I think he doesn't realise. Gerry's fears are justified, I think - hope he will be able to stand up to it. Thanks, Mrs Redboots.

Author:	PaulineS [ Thu Aug 21, 2008 9:05 pm ]
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Thank you for the update. I hope the Major can stand up to the crowd of people who want to see him or that they recognise that he cannot stay standing about for a long period of time.

Author:	Alison H [ Thu Aug 21, 2008 10:23 pm ]
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Thanks for the update - hope you're feeling better. Nice of people to turn out to see Freddie's dad - just hope he doesn't find it all a bit overwhelming.

Author:	Abi [ Thu Aug 21, 2008 11:17 pm ]
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How lovely that the people are so glad to see him again. I hope he copes ok with it.

Author:	Miss Di [ Fri Aug 22, 2008 6:51 am ]
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[quote="Mrs Redboots"]Well, I've certainly turned the oven on and left its door ajar to warm myself up on very cold winter days before now! In our defence the weather was minus something (which is VERY COLD for NSW) and it was snowing (nearly unheard of except in the Snowies). And the oven was trying to warm a cabin for six people not just a kitchen... Thanks for the update, I do hope the major can deal with all the sticky beaks.

Author:	Vick [ Fri Aug 22, 2008 3:15 pm ]
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Lovely scene. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Tue Aug 26, 2008 5:48 pm ]
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Sorry for the delay - the next bit needs a rather drastic rewrite, alas.... It took nearly an hour for them to get through the crowd of well-wishers to the waiting taxi. All his tenants, and most of those villagers who were not tenants, wished to shake his hand and say a few words, and Major Darrow was grey with fatigue by the time they had reached the taxi. When they reached home, he went straight to bed, refusing lunch, and Freddie, at her mother’s urgent request, took her overnight case with her when she went round to the Rectory, where she was to spend the next two nights while her father tossed feverishly in the grip of nightmares. By Tuesday afternoon, however, he was well enough for Mrs Darrow to come into school as usual, and she asked Freddie to go home and give him his tea. Freddie ran upstairs when she got in, to find her father sitting up in bed listening to the wireless. He switched it off when he saw her, and held out his arms for a hug. “Sorry to have given you a fright,” he said. “Obviously I wasn’t quite as strong as I thought I was.” “Oh well, next week we’ll just have to get you back to the car more quickly; you were fine in Church, weren’t you?” “I don’t somehow think your mother will let me go next week – still, we’ll see. Frustrating, though; I felt perfectly all right, or I’d not have suggested it.” “What did the doctor say, or didn’t you have him?” “He just said I’d been overdoing it, and to take it easily for a few days. Don’t have much choice right now, I’m afraid, but I hope to get up tomorrow, for a bit, and be on my feet again properly by the end of the week.” “Well, don’t hurry yourself. Would you like a cup of tea?” “Yes please. And two slices of toast, if you’re making it!” Freddie was, and took her own share upstairs too, to eat with her father. “I can’t stop long, as I must do my hens and my homework. But I can spare fifteen minutes to enjoy my tea.” “Can you spare another five minutes to play something for me on the piano? I haven’t heard you play yet, and I’m a bit out of touch with modern music.” Freddie went a bit pink, but agreed, and a few minutes later the strains of “In the Mood” rippled through the house. She followed this up with a couple of popular songs and then a Scott Joplin rag, and then, conscience pricking, ran upstairs to tell her father that was going to have to do for now, as she had to get on. He grinned at her and said, “Thanks, pet! I love ragtime. What was that second piece called – it was very jolly.” Freddie grinned. “I’m afraid it’s called ‘Boogie-woogie bugleman from Company B’, and the words are as dire as you might expect. But it’s a fun piece to play, and it always gets people up and moving at dances!” “Do you play for school dances, then?” “Yes – and when the GIs were here, Grandfather used to organise a dance for some of the younger ones in the Parish Hall once a month, and I used to play at that. Not all evening, of course, any more than I do at school dances. But most people play the classical pieces and ballroom dances – waltzes and so on – and everybody likes a bit of a mix. Right, I must go and get on! See you in a bit!”

Author:	PaulineS [ Tue Aug 26, 2008 8:48 pm ]
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Love Freddie's choice of music. Glad her father enjoyed it as well.

Author:	abbeybufo [ Tue Aug 26, 2008 9:45 pm ]
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I love ragtime too Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Alison H [ Tue Aug 26, 2008 9:59 pm ]
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Hums "In the mood" I like the idea of the family organising dances for GIs and local girls - can't imagine Madge or Joey doing that!

Author:	Vick [ Tue Aug 26, 2008 10:36 pm ]
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Glad Major Darrow only had a minor setback. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	JS [ Wed Aug 27, 2008 1:54 pm ]
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Just read this all through and really enjoyed it. It has a lovely period feel. Looking forward to more.

Author:	Abi [ Wed Aug 27, 2008 9:44 pm ]
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Glad Major Darrow is improving again - hopefully he'll take things more carefully. Sorry about the rewrite - always a bummer!

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Thu Aug 28, 2008 12:48 am ]
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Thanks Mrs redboots. I'm really enjoying this

Author:	Miss Di [ Thu Aug 28, 2008 3:39 am ]
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Alison H wrote: I like the idea of the family organising dances for GIs and local girls - can't imagine Madge or Joey doing that! No neither can I somehow. What makes Tziganne bands ok and poplular music not? (obviously I am a barbarian as I would much rather listen to Robbie Williams - or ragtime - than classical music)

Author:	Tara [ Sat Aug 30, 2008 4:57 pm ]
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Just caught up. Poor Mr Darrow, hardly surprising he had a relapse after that lot - it's easy to underestimate the stress and fatigue of interacting with a crowd of people, even very friendly ones. Glad he seems to be recovering quickly, and it's lovely that he and Freddie are so much more at ease with each other now. Thanks, Mrs R.

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Sat Aug 30, 2008 8:39 pm ]
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Had a bit of rewriting to do, but I think the story is coming-along-nicely now! Thanks for your kind comments - I do appreciate them! Freddie ran up the garden to deal with her hens and then back to wrestle with her Maths and French. She barely looked up when her mother came in, except to ask whether she should get supper. Her mother replied that she would see to it, and Freddie carried on. That term, the girls of St Peter’s were learning from a selection of poems by Rudyard Kipling. That great man had died ten years ago in January, and Miss Phillips, the headmistress, had decreed that every girl in the school should learn some of his poetry, and had put together an anthology for that very purpose. Not all of Kipling’s poetry is suitable for schoolgirls, of course, but there is plenty that is. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that that particular week they were learning His Apologies. Freddie, once she had finished learning the two verses set for the evening, ran upstairs to see whether her father was awake. He was, and offered to hear her. But she got no further than the first verse: “Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old. He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled. But Thou has forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee ... Art Thou content with Thy Servant? He is very comfy with Thee.” “Marshall and Snelgrove!” her father interrupted, referring to the two black Labradors which had been an integral part of his life before the War. “Whatever happened to them? And Dalky” -- his horse -- “and didn’t you have a pony?” “Yes, Sunny!” said Freddie. “He’s all right still; too small for me now, and I passed him on to the Woodall children when we came here. You know we lived in Home Farm Cottage for a year after the Army snaffled Westover, but then I was ten, and about to go to St Peter’s, and Mr Woodall wanted the cottage for some land girls, so we came here. Only I left Sunny behind because he was getting too small for me, and of course there’s nowhere to put him here. So the younger Woodall children ride him, and we pay a bit for his livery, I think.” “But the dogs? And Dalky?” “The dogs got too old. And they were pining for you. And it was too difficult to feed them. And could we not talk about it, please?” “Oh Freddie – I’m sorry. But Dalky? What happened to her?” “That was – even worse,” said Freddie, biting her lip rather hard. “They were in the field, her and Sunny, and there was this German aeroplane, and we think he was just shedding his load before going home, they way they did – and -” she broke off, and bit her finger rather hard in a vain attempt to stop the tears streaming down her face. “And Dalky bought it!” said her father, heavily. “That must have been dreadful. Was Sunny injured?” “He was cut a bit, and very nervous of aeroplanes – we had to bring him in for a few months until he got over that. The vet said Dalky probably had a heart attack, he thought.” “I couldn’t have ridden her now, anyway,” said her father. “But I don’t know why I didn’t think of her, and of the dogs, until this minute – how could I have forgotten?” “I wish we could have a dog, but I don’t see quite how we can until the food situation improves a bit. They don’t do rations for dogs.” The pair were silent for a few minutes, and then Major Darrow quoted softly from the end of the poem: “Lord, look down on Thy Servant! Bad things have come to pass. There is no heat in the midday sun, nor health in the wayside grass. His bones are full of an old disease - his torments run and increase. Lord, make haste with Thy Lightnings and grant him a quick release!” “Good chap, Kipling. He knew dogs, all right!”

Author:	PaulineS [ Sat Aug 30, 2008 9:23 pm ]
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thank you. I never thought of there being no rations for pets. It must have been hard on families with several young animals at the start of the war who lived through it and into the tougher rationing of the Peace, when the lease lend stopped,

Author:	Alison H [ Sat Aug 30, 2008 10:34 pm ]
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The poor horse .

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Sun Aug 31, 2008 10:25 am ]
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And poor Freddie who had to relive it

Author:	Tor [ Sun Aug 31, 2008 11:59 am ]
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Really enjoying this, Mrs Redboots. I wonder if anyone else caught the Woman's Hour with the section on just this topic - men returning after the war. It was very poignant and worth a listen... it was on thursday so should be possible to listen again on line until next weds: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/womanshour/03/2008_35_thu.shtml

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Tue Sep 09, 2008 5:48 pm ]
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Thanks for your kind comments - as always, much appreciated. After a moment, he carried on: “Dogs, horses.... and I had a car, too. What happened to it?” “I don’t know,” said Freddie, dubiously. “Didn’t you have it put away in one of the outbuildings, so that it would be okay again – I mean, all right again – when you came home? I can’t remember.” Mrs Darrow, coming upstairs just at that minute to say that supper was ready, confirmed that, as far as she knew the car was still up on bricks and covered with tarpaulin. “I haven’t really thought of it for ages; I suppose we could have it brought back into use. We can get a little petrol now, although not much. Probably enough to drive over to Westover and back once a week or so, I suppose. Anyway, Freddie, are you coming downstairs?” “Couldn’t you bring your supper up on trays, too, and we can all have it here?” asked the Major. “I feel like some company!” This was done, Freddie and her mother quickly bringing the trays upstairs. Major Darrow was leafing through Freddie’s Kipling book again, but put it down to sit himself up and take the tray on his knees. “You know, I’m really glad school makes you learn so much poetry,” he said. “Knowing stuff off by heart can make a huge difference. I was so glad I’d been made to learn so many Bible verses in Sunday School – they were something to hold on to.” “Yes, I suppose they would be,” said Mrs Darrow, softly. “You didn’t have a Bible there?” “No, we were allowed no books or writing materials of any kind. We set up a sort of university, though, where people who knew anything about anything would give lectures, just as an interest – quite hard, without being able to illustrate!” “Did you give lectures?” asked Freddie, shyly. “Oh, absolutely – on estate management, of course! Not that it would be much use to most people, but it was something to do, and something fresh to think about. We had the most extraordinary assortment of subjects; one man knew all about the steam engines of the Great Western Railway, and was even able to make them interesting! Poor old Smithers.... he didn’t make it.” Major Darrow’s voice trailed off and he gazed into the middle distance. Mrs Darrow quickly changed the subject to lecturers they had had at the Women’s Institute during the War, and managed to be quite funny about it, and the dangerous moment passed.

Author:	Abi [ Tue Sep 09, 2008 6:01 pm ]
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I somehow missed the last post, so had two to catch up on. Both very poignant. Poor Major Darrow, so much has changed since he left. And a very different perspective on learning by heart. At least they could give lectures and learn that way. It must have been a horrible time. Thanks Mrs Redboots!

Author:	PaulineS [ Tue Sep 09, 2008 8:44 pm ]
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Thanks for the update. I heard the Woman's Hour sessions and they tied in well. Pleased they are all geting on better.

Author:	Alison H [ Tue Sep 09, 2008 10:28 pm ]
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There are going to be a lot of difficult moments - glad that they got past that one OK.

Author:	JS [ Thu Sep 11, 2008 1:11 pm ]
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Thanks for that - very sad about the dogs and horse

Author:	ibarhis [ Thu Sep 11, 2008 1:56 pm ]
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Sad that the reality of 'home' is so different from the memory/dream of home.

Author:	Vick [ Thu Sep 11, 2008 9:43 pm ]
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lovely updates. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Fri Sep 12, 2008 10:27 pm ]
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I think I finally see where this is going! That week set the pattern for the next few weeks. Major Darrow would feel well, try to do too much, and end up in bed for several days. By trial and error he found he could attend Church as long as he went straight to his car afterwards, or, in fine weather, sat down on a bench in the Churchyard to talk to people. He was anxious to be accessible to his people, as he had been before the War, but living three miles from the village made this awkward and most matters went through Miss Keyes, who continued to deal with day-to-day estate matters. Even though the family car was brought back into use, the very small amount of petrol that was available meant that it could not be used much, and he still found driving rather tiring. Easter was late that year, and the weather was, as sometimes happens, almost summer-like. Freddie spent most of her Easter holidays in the garden, sometimes alone, sometimes with Ros or one of her other friends and, two mornings a week, under the strict supervision of Lowther, who had been head gardener on the Westover Estate before the war, and even now ruled over the allotments with an iron fist. He and Freddie addressed one another courteously as “Miss Winifred” and “Mr Lowther”, but they got on very well, and he enjoyed having an apt and interested pupil. Major Darrow was able to sit in a deck-chair under the apple-tree, occasionally getting up to wander round and admire such progress as had been made that day. Mrs Darrow also worked hard in the garden, for, as she explained to her husband, rationing was such that, unless you grew most of your own food, you were apt to go hungry. Plus, if you grew soft fruit, you got extra sugar to make jam, and so Mrs Darrow tended the strawberries, raspberries, blackcurrants and gooseberries that made up their soft-fruit garden. The holidays passed quickly, and it seemed no time before the summer term was under way, with the change of sports from hockey and netball to cricket and tennis, and cotton frocks rather than gymslips. Because coupons were so scarce, the girls were allowed to wear their own choice of frock, and although fabric and patterns tended to be strictly “utility”, they relished this small freedom. The weather continued fine, and Freddie settled back down into the routine of school, homework, and very often an hour in the garden before bedtime as the days grew longer. She was selected for the under 16 cricket team, to her delight, and, apart from the looming shadow of School Certificate, all seemed well.

Author:	Alison H [ Fri Sep 12, 2008 10:57 pm ]
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Glad that things are going well. Interesting to see how they're coping with rationing - it was something that EBD never really mentioned in the post-war books.

Author:	Elbee [ Sat Sep 13, 2008 2:02 pm ]
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I'm glad the Major is getting better and that things seem to be going well (so far!). Thanks, Mrs Redboots.

Author:	Miriam [ Sat Sep 13, 2008 8:33 pm ]
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Alison H wrote: Glad that things are going well. Interesting to see how they're coping with rationing - it was something that EBD never really mentioned in the post-war books. It didn't atually seem to have much affect on the school meals during the war either - and they maintained their gardening a long time after the war.

Author:	Tara [ Sat Sep 13, 2008 11:14 pm ]
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Really appreciating the details that bring home the realities of wartime, especially the dogs and the horse - so sad. And the gardening, too - I sometgimes wonder how we'd manage now if all our technology failed! Must tend my own soft fruit better ... Loved the girls being able, perforce, to wear their own choice of frock.

Author:	Kathy_S [ Sun Sep 14, 2008 2:06 am ]
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The gardening sounds especially therapeutic. Not to mention useful! Thank you, Mrs. R.

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Sun Sep 14, 2008 3:50 pm ]
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Thanks for the update.

Author:	JS [ Mon Sep 15, 2008 11:13 am ]
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Yes, you're making me think I'd like to go off now and turn some plums into jam, but I have too much work to do! Thanks for this - lovely update. Edited to say I didn't know you got extra sugar if you grew soft fruit. How did they know and did you have to share out the jam?

Author:	Vick [ Mon Sep 15, 2008 2:50 pm ]
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Lovely update, thanks Mrs R

Author:	jilianb [ Tue Sep 16, 2008 6:02 am ]
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Thanks Mrs R. It seems that they are starting to settle down together as a family again.

Author:	babycassied [ Tue Sep 16, 2008 8:11 pm ]
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Really enjoying this - thank you!

Author:	Karoline [ Wed Sep 17, 2008 9:42 am ]
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I'm really enjoying this, thanks Mrs Redboots

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Sat Sep 20, 2008 9:30 pm ]
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Thank you for your comments. I don't actually know how they knew you were making jam - I do know you did get extra sugar to do so, though. One day, about a month after the beginning of term, she woke up feeling rather unwell. Her mother suggested she stay at home that morning, and Freddie was only too thankful to stay in bed. By lunch-time, she was rather obviously running a temperature, and finding it hard to stay awake. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said to her mother, who had brought her up some fresh water, “only I keep having such strange, wandery dreams!” Dr Payne, hastily summoned, sucked his teeth. “I don’t think that she has anything worse than flu, but I’m going to play safe and put her in hospital, just in case she is cooking up polio, or something. Besides which, you don’t want the Major to get it. And while we still have one of the best teaching hospitals in the world evacuated on to our doorstep, as it were, we might just as well make use of it!” The ambulance came, and took Freddie into the country branch of St Martha’s, one of the great London teaching hospitals which had set up a branch in the town in 1940, during the Blitz. Fortunately, she did not develop polio, but it was a very sharp attack of flu, and for the first few days she was very unwell indeed. There was never any reason to fear for her, but it was two full weeks before she began to want to sit up and take notice, and a further week before the doctors pronounced her well enough to be discharged. Meanwhile, her parents had succumbed to the same infection. Her mother had only had it lightly, and was already up and about, but her father had been seriously ill and for several days the doctors had been rather worried about him. He was now out of danger, but still very weak, and had lost most of the ground he’d gained since January. The consultant, Sir James Talbot, came to speak to them all as they gathered round Major Darrow’s bedside. He had been watching them for several days, but did not care for what he saw. Freddie and her mother were both very thin and pale, and Major Darrow still looked impossibly frail. And there was a shadow on his lung that Sir James did not like at all. “Had it been ten years ago, I would have sent you all to the Alps for six months; would have done you all the good in the world. But it can’t be done now, alas.” “We’re no worse off than most people,” said Mrs Darrow, rather defensively. She knew that she was very tired, but then, so was everybody after the war, and she and Freddie had had a relatively easy time of it, particularly compared with what her husband had been through. “And better than some,” agreed Sir James. “However, if you want to stay that way, you will be guided by me. I have an old friend and colleague who ran the sanatorium in Austria which, in happier days, I would have sent you to. He was able to get away after the Anschluss, and has now opened a sanatorium in the Welsh mountains, not far from Armiford. I would like you all to go there for the next few months, to have a chance to recover properly, away from all stress and responsibility.” “My garden, my hens....” said Freddie. “And school,” this last very much as an afterthought. “I’m afraid there’ll be no school for you until September at the earliest,” said the doctor. “But my garden, my hens?” Here, Major Darrow took a hand. “We’ll sort something out. Between the Morleys, Lowther and Miss Keyes, they won’t go neglected. Hush, now.” Freddie hushed, perforce, and her father turned to the great doctor. “For myself, I’d be happy to go – I would have liked to have taken up the running of the estate again, but I do know that it can’t be done just yet. But I know my girls have deep roots here.” “It won’t be forever,” said his wife. “And if it means you and Freddie get well and strong again, it’s worth it. I wish I could have given the school a term’s notice, though – they will have trouble getting another piano teacher at this stage of term.” “To say nothing of Freddie’s fees,” agreed her husband. “Still, Miss Phillips is a reasonable woman. I imagine she will find room for her in September, or whenever we come back.”

Author:	Sarah_K [ Sat Sep 20, 2008 9:55 pm ]
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I'm glad they had St Martha's so close by, and Sir James Talbot of course (nice to see a familair face g)

Author:	PaulineS [ Sat Sep 20, 2008 9:59 pm ]
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Thank you for the update. Sorry they all had flu, but pleased they has Sir James Talbot as their doctor and he rcommends the San.

Author:	Alison H [ Sat Sep 20, 2008 10:47 pm ]
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That was an unexpected twist! Will be interested to "see" the Welsh San - the school/San link kind of died off a bit during the British period of the CS books, didn't it?

Author:	Lottie [ Sat Sep 20, 2008 10:54 pm ]
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I wonder if Gerry and Grizel have kept in touch since they left Florence. It will be interesting to see what happens if they meet up again; although I suppose they might not, since the school is a fair distance from the San. Thanks, Mrs. Redboots. I've really been enjoying this.

Author:	Alison H [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 8:22 am ]
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I hope they have. A friend outside the CS world'd be just what Grizel needed, and it'd be nice for Gerry to meet up with an old friend.

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 3:18 pm ]
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Hope Gerry and Grizel are reunited. thanks

Author:	Abi [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 5:24 pm ]
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Oh yes, it would be lovely to see Grizel and Gerry together again. Will we see any more familiar faces? An outsider's view of the School, perhaps?

Author:	Mrs Redboots [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:55 pm ]
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Miss Keyes and Jill Morley, between them, got the Darrows packed up and ready to leave. They both firmly said that they would see to it that the house was either lived in or regularly aired, and that the garden would be kept up. The hens would join Rosalind’s at the Vicarage, to be returned when Freddie came back. The Darrows were not to worry, but to get well quickly and come home again. Both women promised to write with local and estate news. They were to go by car; Sir James Talbot ascertained that Mrs Darrow was able to drive, and pointed out that they might be glad of the car in Wales once they started to feel better. He would undertake to drive them to Wales, as he wanted to consult with Sir James Russell, the Head of the Sanatorium, and would take the train back. “I have enough petrol for the journey – I get a doctor’s ration, of course. And I really think that the journey through London with luggage would be too much for you just now.” They took two days over the journey, spending the night in Oxford. Freddie was very fed-up that she was finally in the city but unable to do any sightseeing, but Sir James pointed out the locations of several of the main colleges next morning as they left the city, and with that, she had to be satisfied. “But one day I shall come back and see it properly!” she announced. They were all very tired when they finally arrived at the great Sanatorium in Wales, and were happy to be put straight to bed. For the first night, they were put all together, but they were so very tired that they were just thankful to drink the delicious vegetable soup they were given and go straight to sleep. The next morning, they had a consultation with Sir James Russell. Major Darrow was prescribed at least two weeks’ complete bed-rest, and was taken over to what was called the bed-rest hospital. Mrs Darrow and Freddie, both stronger, were to be up-patients, and were allocated a room in the Ambulant Hospital. They were to get up and dress for part of each day, although, like all patients, they were to observe two-hour rest period during the afternoons, and be in bed for the night by 8:00 pm, if not earlier. This plan lasted for 48 hours. On the third morning, Mrs Darrow found herself totally unable to get out of bed. Sir James, hastily summoned, examined her carefully and decided to transfer her to the bed-rest hospital. Later, he came in to reassure Freddie. “You see, your mother was under a great deal of stress for many years, during the War. All those years of not knowing whether your father was ever going to come home, and having to worry about the estate, and where you were going to live, and trying to bring you up on her own – it’s all added to it, and now that has all gone, and someone else is looking after her, her body and mind have decided they need a really good rest. So we’re going to put her to bed, too, and see what that will do for her.” “Can I see her?” asked Freddie, worriedly. “Tomorrow, perhaps. I think I want her kept very quiet for the next 24 hours, and then we’ll see. If she goes on as I suspect she will, you can see her for five minutes tomorrow, and what we might do is put her bed out on the balcony during the day, and your father’s, too, so they can be next to each other.” “Oh, they will like that!” said Freddie. “I think they will, too. And now, young lady, how are you today?” Freddie, as it happened, was fine, and as the days went past and she shook of the lassitude left after the flu, she became as well as ever. And grew steadily more and more bored. There appeared to be nothing for her to do. Lessons were provided to the children on bed-rest, but only for an hour each day. And there were no other young people in the Ambulant hospital at that time. She was not allowed to help in the garden, nor could she play the piano. She didn’t care for jigsaws, and found that she did not really want to read for more than an hour or so at a time. She wished, heartily, that she could go back to school, and said as much to Sir James when he made his rounds one day early in the second week. “Please, Sir James? I’m perfectly all right now, really I am, and I’m so bored. If I went home, I could stay with my cousin Rosalind and go back to school.” Sir James was unsure. Sir James Talbot had felt strongly that Freddie should not go back to school until September, but she was fairly obviously fretting badly and boredom was doing her no good. Yet she still tired quickly, Nurse reported, although she was unsure whether this was because she had so little to do. Finally, he made up his mind what to do. As his plan involved other people, he could say nothing to Freddie until he had consulted with them, so he smiled at her and said, “Leave it with me, young lady; I’ll see what I can think of!” and left the room. End of Part 1

Author:	Elder in Ontario [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 10:46 pm ]
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Aha - do I see signs that the Chalet School will come to the rescue as a temporary home for Freddie? I suspect it might!! Thanks, Mrs. Redboots, I'm really enjoying this.

Author:	Alison H [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 10:48 pm ]
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My thoughts exactly . Thanks - this is great!

Author:	PaulineS [ Sun Sep 21, 2008 11:32 pm ]
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Thank you after a Lesley cliff this was just what I needed. Thank you I am enjoying the drabble and loving Freddie

Author:	Ela [ Mon Sep 22, 2008 4:28 pm ]
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This is lovely, Mrs Redboots (though I was surprised that they needed to go via London on their way to the Welsh mountains, since I had in my mind that they were living further north!) I can quite see why Gerry would collapse like that - and how nice Jem was to reassure Freddie in that way. Thank-you.

Author:	Abi [ Mon Sep 22, 2008 5:40 pm ]
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Yay - hope to see Freddie at the Chalet School! Poor Gerry, hope she will get the rest she needs. Thanks, Mrs Redboots!

Author:	JS [ Mon Sep 22, 2008 6:10 pm ]
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Echo what everyone has said - be interesting to see Freddie at the CS. I'm trying to think of who would be her age? Thanks.

Author:	Vick [ Wed Oct 01, 2008 8:43 pm ]
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Lovely update. Thanks Mrs R

Author:	Miss Di [ Thu Oct 02, 2008 4:08 am ]
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I've just caught up with Gerry, Freddie and the Major after my hols. THank you Mrs Redboots, it's a very engrossing tale.

Author:	Chris [ Thu Oct 02, 2008 3:12 pm ]
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I've just read this from the beginning and really enjoyed it. I'm looking forward to the next part.

Author:	Fiona Mc [ Fri Oct 03, 2008 10:19 am ]
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Thanks Mrs Redboots. Can't wait to read more

Author:	jacey [ Thu Oct 09, 2008 10:19 pm ]
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Mrs Redboots? Please come back and start part 2. I can't wait much longer

Author:	Maeve [ Fri Feb 27, 2009 9:48 pm ]
Post subject:	Re: Freddie
Found Part 2 just the other day and so came looking for Part 1 and have had a lovely time reading it all through in one go. It's a great story, Mrs Redboots -- I really enjoyed it and am so glad I have Part 2 to go on to. Thanks.

Author:	Jessie [ Fri May 22, 2009 10:34 pm ]
Post subject:	Re: Freddie
Just read through part one - where can I find part two please?

Author:	MaryR [ Sun May 24, 2009 10:47 pm ]
Post subject:	Re: Freddie
Jessie wrote: Just read through part one - where can I find part two please? It's on page I of St Agnes forum, Jessie.

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