Sons and Daughters Read online

  ‘Beg pardon?’ said Chinese Lady faintly.

  Boots, knowing she considered King George a sure shield against any possible advent of what she called the Bolsheviks, and that Conservatives were staunch upholders of respectability, said, ‘Yes, forget the Labour Party, it’s the King who will personally conduct the investiture, and Winston Churchill who’ll give Edwin a pat on the shoulder.’

  ‘Well, of course, I’ve always been admiring of Mr Churchill, but Edwin didn’t make any mention of the King doing the honour himself,’ said Chinese Lady.

  ‘Oh, the King will, old girl, I assure you,’ said Boots, ‘and you’ll be invited to the Palace to watch the ceremony.’

  ‘Oh, Lord help us, Buckingham Palace, Boots, I just don’t know if I could fit into that,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Would it upset the King if I didn’t go?’

  Boots said no, it wouldn’t upset His Majesty, but it would be a pity to miss all the pomp and circumstance. Chinese Lady said she was fond of pomp and circumstance, like in ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. Boots said he knew she was. Yes, she said, but not close to in Buckingham Palace.

  ‘There’ll be other wives to keep you company,’ said Boots, ‘you won’t be alone. Edwin won’t be the only man to receive a knighthood.’

  ‘I can’t think what he’s specially done to be honoured,’ said Chinese Lady. But she was recovering, she was beginning to sit up straight. ‘I mean, he’s only ever worked in one of the Government’s offices.’

  Boots suspected, rightly, that his stepfather’s secret work in the field during Hitler’s rise to power had been primarily responsible for so notable an honour as a knighthood.

  ‘But you can understand he’d have been excellent at his job,’ he said, ‘and invaluable during the war. Mr Churchill himself probably noticed him.’

  Chinese Lady, not as daft as all that, said, ‘Now don’t tell me no fairy stories, Boots. Mr Churchill would of been far too busy to go round government offices noticing who was who. Mind, I can’t think Edwin was a sort of nobody, no-one could ever say he was that. I was always able to ask him to talk to the Government about some things, like when Sammy’s son Daniel was in trouble in Palestine. But me being called Lady Finch? Oh, lor’, I just don’t know what the neighbours will say, or my old friends in Walworth.’

  Boots said she could tell her neighbours and her old friends that to them she was simply Mrs Finch, as heretofore. Chinese Lady, of course, at once said her day was upsetting enough without having to listen to words like that. Still, she said, perhaps she needn’t tell her neighbours and old friends about being Lady Finch. That’s it, said Boots, keep it under your Sunday hat. But what about the family, they’d soon know, she said.

  ‘All the family will be delighted,’ said Boots, ‘and no-one will have to address you as Lady Finch.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Lizzy calling me Lady Finch when I’ve been her mother all her life? The very idea.’ Then, sure that her eldest son knew a lot more than anyone else in the family, she asked, ‘Would you know what Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret call the Queen?’

  ‘Mum, probably,’ said Boots, and Chinese Lady gave him one of her looks. Knowledgeable he might be, but sometimes a body still wasn’t sure that what he said was what he meant. And you couldn’t always trust that smile of his.

  ‘Even if the Princesses are both her daughters, I don’t know I can believe they call her Mum,’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘Well, not in public, of course,’ said Boots, ‘only in private, at teatime, say. Look, old girl, to all your family you’re always going to be yourself, whether you’re Lady Finch or the Duchess of Bermondsey.’

  ‘But Lady Finch, me?’ said Chinese Lady. ‘If I’d been born middle class, well, that would be different, but I wasn’t, I’ve been an ordinary woman all my life.’

  ‘Ordinary?’ Boots shook his head. ‘Not you, old girl, nor Sammy or others of your family. Listen.’ He talked encouragingly to her, pointing out that a knighthood was a great honour for Edwin, and for her too, come to that. A supportive wife was just as worthy as her husband. Further, she was the kind of woman who could adjust to her exalted status.

  ‘My what?’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Boots, d’you have to use French at a trying time like this?’

  Boots said it wasn’t French, it was a conviction that she could get used to her title, and be able to look everyone in the eye. He could have said the honour was something that must have touched Edwin deeply, since he’d been a German citizen who became a naturalized British subject out of affection for the United Kingdom. That was something known only to Boots and British Intelligence.

  Chinese Lady ventured to say it perhaps wouldn’t be right to ask Edwin to refuse the title, especially if the King was going to do the honours. She said she’d do her best to put up with the embarrassment, as long as no-one in the family made jokes about it. Boots said he’d guarantee that no-one would.

  ‘But if I’ve got to go to Buckingham Palace with Edwin,’ she said, ‘I just don’t know what I’d wear.’

  ‘Edwin will look after that,’ said Boots, ‘he’ll buy you a suitable new outfit.’

  ‘Where from, Bond Street?’ gasped Chinese Lady faintly. ‘But I’ve never been in any posh ladies’ shop, only in Gamages, where Lizzy used to work when she was young.’

  ‘Any Bond Street shop will welcome you when you’re about to become Lady Finch,’ said Boots.

  ‘Oh, lor’,’ sighed Chinese Lady, but Boots had won the day, and was able to tell his stepfather he could accept the honour. Further, the family could be advised, but not until tomorrow, Sunday. Chinese Lady needed all of twenty-four hours to put her smelling salts aside and to be able to receive any of the family.

  Chapter Five

  Chinese Lady’s daughter, Mrs Lizzy Somers, was getting buxom. Her husband Ned didn’t mind, not a bit. Comely, that’s what you are, Eliza, he told her.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Lizzy, ‘comely doesn’t mean fat, does it? It had better not, Ned Somers, or you’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘It means you’ve got pleasing looks and a good figure,’ said Ned.

  ‘Well, thanks, but you sure?’ said Lizzy. ‘I always thought it meant sort of plump and countrified.’

  ‘Like a fattish dairymaid?’ said Ned. ‘Well, you’re not that, Eliza, you’re comely.’

  Which Lizzy was, which was pretty nice going for a woman of fifty-one. Not that her years worried her. She was more equable about being middle-aged than her sisters-in-law, Polly and Susie. Polly and Susie cultivated a well-preserved look. Lizzy, with the aid of expensive lightweight corsets, simply kept herself looking well put-together. She felt life had been as kind to her as it could be. Her daughters, Annabelle and Emma, and her sons, Bobby and Edward, were all happily married. Well, they all seemed to be. None of them complained. And imagine, Bobby had a French wife, Helene, and Edward a Jewish one in Leah, the younger daughter of an old family friend, widowed Rachel Goodman.

  Lizzy, as a contented wife, mother and grandmother, could put up with getting buxom, although it puzzled Chinese Lady. She was slim herself and always had been, and none of her three sons had ever been overweight, nor had their father, her late first husband. I just don’t know why Lizzy’s getting a bit plump, she remarked to son Tommy, it’s not something that runs in the family.

  ‘Beats me too,’ said Tommy, ‘unless it’s her liking for roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. Tell her to eat more salads.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t interfere like that,’ said Chinese Lady.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Tommy, ‘and if Ned don’t mind, why should we worry?’

  About midday on Sunday morning, after church, Lizzy received a phone call from Boots. It wasn’t about her diet, it was a piece of news that nearly made her drop the instrument.

  ‘What?’ she said faintly.

  ‘It’s a fact,’ said Boots.

  ‘If you’re having me on—’

  ‘Not on a Sunday,
’ said Boots.

  ‘Are you telling me that my mum and stepdad are going to be Sir and Lady?’ asked Lizzy, quivering.

  ‘Yes,’ said Boots, ‘so if you and Ned want to call on them this evening, arrive in style.’

  ‘What d’you mean, in style?’ asked Lizzy, still fighting a dizzy feeling.

  ‘With a bottle of champagne from Ned’s cellar,’ said Boots. Ned was still in the wine trade.

  ‘I’ll be lucky if I manage to get there,’ said Lizzy, ‘I’ll still be near to fainting. Our stepdad’s going to be Sir Edwin Finch, and our mum’s going to be Lady Finch? I can’t believe it. Boots, you sure you’re not having me on?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Boots.

  ‘Lord, I’m having palpitations,’ breathed Lizzy.

  ‘Try some hot tea,’ said Boots. ‘Lizzy old girl, let’s all accept it’s a great tribute to our stepdad, even if it has knocked Chinese Lady off her feet.’

  ‘Yes, and me off mine,’ said Lizzy. But she was capable of adding, ‘Don’t call me old girl, not till I’m eighty.’

  ‘Eighty? Right, Lizzy,’ said Boots, and she heard him laugh as he rang off. Then she made compulsive use of her wavering legs to stagger to Ned and tell him the astonishing news, on receipt of which he gave a shout of disbelief before opening a bottle of wine. After a heady glass, Lizzy began to phone her sons and daughters.

  Meanwhile, Boots put a call through to Tommy.

  ‘What?’ said Tommy. ‘What?’

  ‘You can believe it,’ said Boots, ‘and you and Vi can toddle round this evening and congratulate the happy pair. But don’t be surprised if Chinese Lady isn’t her usual self.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Tommy, ‘don’t give me that kind of old Walworth codswallop. I’m too old for it.’ He was forty-nine. ‘And you’re too old to hand it out, unless you’ve been on the bottle. Our stepdad getting a knighthood? What for?’

  ‘Years of service to the Government,’ said Boots. ‘And to King and country.’

  ‘Stone all the crows,’ said Tommy, ‘it’s gospel?’

  ‘It’s a fact,’ said Boots, and after another exchange of words Tommy hung up, found Vi, told her the news and asked her to fan him. Vi failed to oblige. She fell about instead, and took fifteen minutes to recover. She then made phone calls to her daughter Alice and her son David. Paul, her younger son, was out at a gathering for Young Socialists, all of whom were in favour of liberty, equality and reducing rich toffs to rags and patches.

  Sammy was next to hear from Boots.

  He took a deep breath and said, ‘I don’t think I’m hard of hearing, not yet I’m not, but could you repeat that?’

  Boots repeated the news and said, ‘Does it grab you, Sammy?’

  ‘You kidding?’ said Sammy. ‘What I heard I don’t believe. Don’t hand me comical porkies, I’m not in the mood. There’s all this fantastical nylon up for auction, and like I mentioned to Susie, I’m having to face competition from Ben Ford, the Fat man. He’s bobbed up out of nowhere. Probably spent the war under a palm tree eating dates.’

  ‘I know all about that,’ said Boots, ‘and it’s irrelevant at the moment. Your stepdad’s getting a knighthood, and your mother’s still trying to work out how to cope with being Lady Finch.’

  ‘Lady Finch? Holy Joe,’ said Sammy, ‘what a turn-up for the Book of Solomon – no, wait a bit, if it’s true I could stock up with new business cards. I quote. “Sammy Adams, Managing Director of Adams Enterprises Ltd, close relative of Sir Edwin and Lady Finch.” Now that does grab me. Does it grab you, Boots?’

  ‘By my shirt tails,’ said Boots, and heard Susie’s voice in the background.

  ‘Sammy, is that Boots you’re talking to?’

  ‘You could say Lord Boots, Susie,’ said Sammy.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Susie.

  ‘Hold the line for a bit, Boots, while I explain to me trouble and strife,’ said Sammy. Boots, smiling, held on. Susie’s voice arrived in his ear eventually.

  ‘Boots lovey, you’re not joking, are you?’

  ‘I’ve had trouble getting Lizzy and Tommy to believe it,’ said Boots. ‘It’s no joke, Susie.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Susie, ‘I’m going to be the daughter-in-law of Lord and Lady Finch?’

  ‘Sammy upped the status when he explained to you, did he?’ said Boots. ‘It’s a knighthood, not a seat in the House of Lords.’

  ‘I’m still flabbergasted,’ said Susie, ‘but happy, of course. Boots, how did your stepdad come to be offered such an honour?’

  ‘Probably by being chummy with Churchill during the war,’ said Boots.

  ‘Now you are joking,’ said Susie.

  ‘Let’s opt for services rendered to the Government, Susie. I’ll look forward to seeing you and Sammy, and the others, at the Red Post Hill house this evening.’

  ‘Shall I wear something special?’ asked Susie.

  ‘Your best Sunday hat?’ suggested Boots.

  ‘I was thinking of my best Sunday dress,’ said Susie.

  ‘Yes, good idea, that as well,’ said Boots.

  Susie passed the news to daughters Paula and Phoebe, to son Jimmy, and by phone to son Daniel and his American wife, Patsy. It was Patsy who answered the phone, and on being told the reason for the call, she shrieked.

  ‘Oh, my stars, Mother-in-law, are we all joining the English nobility?’

  ‘Daniel’s grandfather and grandmother are,’ said Susie, ‘the rest of us will still be common.’

  ‘Common?’ said Patsy.

  ‘Well, Daniel’s dad will be,’ said Susie. ‘By way of celebration, he’s thinking about buying a coat with a fur collar to it. He’ll look like a spiv, and you can’t get more common than that, so I’m going to stick pins in him.’

  ‘Mother-in-law, you’re cute,’ said Patsy.

  ‘Patsy, you don’t have to call me Mother-in-law. Mum will do.’

  ‘OK, Mum,’ said Patsy, ‘you’re still cute.’

  Polly took over from Boots to give him a break from the phone. She rang his son Tim, his French daughter Eloise, and his adopted daughter Rosie. Tim said bloody marvellous, and that he’d always felt Grandpa Finch was a bit of a VIP. VIP was new, an abbreviation of Very Important Person. Tim’s wife Felicity, blinded during an air raid, came on the line and asked Polly to confirm the news. When Polly did so, Felicity asked if it meant Tim’s grandmother would be entitled to wear a coronet. Polly said no. Bloody swizzle for Grandma, then, said Felicity, but say hooray to Grandpa for us. Felicity made good use of her sense of humour to prevent people feeling sorry for her.

  Eloise, living near Aldershot, where her husband, Colonel Lucas, a regular Army officer, was a regimental commander, despite the loss of an arm, received Polly’s call. She immediately expressed herself in typically exaggerated style, declaring how enthralled she was at such amazing news and how excessively proud she was of her English family.

  Rosie took the news in cryptic fashion.

  ‘I knew it,’ she said.

  ‘You knew?’ said Polly.

  ‘Only that something like this was bound to happen,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Meaning?’ said Polly.

  ‘It’s that kind of family,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Enlighten me, Rosie old sport.’

  ‘It’s a family specializing in the extraordinary,’ said Rosie. ‘Do you and I know anyone quite like Grandma Finch or Sammy?’

  ‘Or Boots?’ said Polly.

  ‘Boots of all people,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Can we leave out Edwin for a worthwhile mention?’ murmured Polly.

  ‘Oh, he’s the unassuming kingpin, of course,’ said Rosie. ‘I now have a feeling we’ll all end up being invited to take tea with their Majesties.’

  ‘I can’t wait, ducky,’ said Polly, ‘but Boots will have to put a stop on Sammy or he’ll embarrass all of us by trying to sell the freehold of Buckingham Palace to King and Queenie.’

  ‘Isn’t he more likely to try to buy it from them for
his property company?’ said Rosie.

  ‘Well, sweetie,’ said Polly, ‘don’t even suggest it, or he’ll give it his best go.’

  Rosie laughed.

  ‘What a family,’ she said.

  Paul, Tommy and Vi’s younger son, was back home from his political meeting in time for Sunday dinner. He had a sturdy resemblance to his dad, but, unlike him, and very unlike his Uncle Sammy, he was against capitalism. At the Young Socialists’ meeting he’d enjoyed discussion and argument concerning the advantages of an Act depriving the rich of the best part of their ill-gotten oof and redistributing it to the poor and needy. Tommy, a director of Adams Enterprises and efficient manager of its garments factory, and accordingly a practising capitalist, had pointed out more than once that if that came about all the riches would disappear overnight, most of it in pubs. Paul always responded by saying no, of course not, the poor and needy weren’t daft, they would use it to improve their lot. When Tommy asked how many people were poor and needy, Paul said a couple of million at least. Well, say they each received a hundred quid, said Tommy, how much improvement would that give?

  Paul said a hundred quid was peanuts. A thousand was the minimum requirement. Well, count up how many people are filthy rich, said Tommy, and then try working it out.

  ‘Did you have a nice meeting, lovey?’ asked Vi, laying the dinner table. Homely and affectionate, Vi was the most equable of the Adams wives. Although not in the least interested in politics herself, which she was pleased to leave to men, who were born argumentative, anyway, she always referred to Paul’s meetings as nice.

  ‘Well, we enjoyed some meaningful discussions,’ said Paul, accepting a glass of brown ale from his dad.

  ‘I get you,’ said Tommy. ‘You mean rowdy.’

  ‘Enthusiastic,’ said Paul.