Chapter 1

Another Christmas – 1902, we travelled down to my aunt and uncle’s. I say aunt and uncle, but Uncle Jack was never there; he travelled the world sorting out problems. He hoped to be with us at Christmas but last year he wasn’t, Aunt J. was very tolerant. She was always called Aunt J. Like I was Jay. So she had to be Aunt J to distinguish us.

‘We’ consisted of me and my mother, Aunt J’s sister. I was an only child, I understand that mother had been told not to have any more children, but she never actually explained that to me – ladies don’t discuss such things with their sons. Father died when I was three. I’d like to say I miss him, but honestly? I don’t really remember him. I might miss the idea of a father, but I don’t actually miss him.

We made two visits to Longcross – the house – one at Christmas for a week, and one in the Summer for a two week stay. I always looked forward to the visits. My cousins were fun. Mary was sixteen, a year older than me, Lucy was a year younger, then there was Sarah – 12 – and Joy – 10. Joy was so called by her mother because she (Joy) was a surprise, but a welcome one. I have little idea how husbands and wives can plan to have babies or not; it all seems to be a matter of chance.

The train pulled in to the small station and we got out, I was carrying our two bags, the trunk would be delivered from the guard’s van later. Mother did not travel lightly, even for a week. Immediately we were swamped by happy, smiling faces. Last summer I had been delighted by the pretty faces of the girls, that had been more of a delight even than their company (for the first time). This time I was greeted by hugs and kisses on the cheek that made me even more pleased. It was so delightful to be welcomed enthusiastically. Aunt J. kissed me too, commented on how much I had grown and led the way back to the carriage. For here, in the country, horse and carriage was still the normal mode for the middle classes. I had regaled everyone in the summer with the infernal combustion engines appearing in our town. They looked like constructs from a manic inventor, but they were a source of fascination too. The workings of the engine seemed far more like magic than steam engines. All loaded, we travelled to Longcross – a large house with half the rooms unused.

Aunt J and Uncle Jack were not poor, they were careful. Perhaps that helped them not be poor. We were comfortable. Papa’s annuities continued to provide enough money for the small town house and for my school fees; but we were ‘poor middle class’ - we had the aspirations, but not the wherewithal, so education was more important than flaunting wealth. Aunt J and Uncle Jack had the wherewithal, in spades; they chose not to spend needlessly, except that they were generous to a ‘T’ in some ways. Christmas, for example, they reduced the staff to half the usual number, and sent the others home to spend time with their families – with a Christmas bonus. The staff who stayed often volunteered; the singletons or the ones with large families who felt that they would not be missed. The generosity of Mr and Mrs Jacob Spence seemed to rub off on the staff.