Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor by Rosina Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

the place. Eventually Lady Cranborne decided to stop and see what was wrong. It was obvious that one of the back tyres was torn to pieces. ‘Oh well, Rose,’ she said, ‘we can’t stop now or we’ll be late for lunch.’
    By the time we arrived there was nothing left of the tyre, the wheel rim was flattened and every part of my anatomy seemed to have changed places. Her ladyship didn’t turn a hair, just got out as though nothing had happened. I imagine one of Lady Apsley’s chauffeurs saw to the car because the wheel had been changed when we came out of the house.
    I was with Lady Cranborne for five years. I might have stayed with her indefinitely: she was a pleasure to serve, my life was interesting, I was fulfilling my ambition to travel; unfortunately there was one stumbling-block, money. I was still only earning £24 a year and any request I made for an increase was flatly, almost rudely, refused. I don’t know whether there was a conspiracy among the upper classes to keep servants’ wages down, but everyone I knew in service at that time met with the same brick-wall attitude. The only way to get more was to change employers, and this couldn’t be done too often otherwise you earned the reputation of being unreliable and having itchy feet.
    Once again I had the emotions of loyalty and affection pulling at my heartstrings, with the added problem of my fondness for the children to contend with. But the strongest pull for me was always my mother and my family. Mum had struggled on gamely after Dad’s death, but it was evident that she couldn’t go on working for ever. I wanted to be in a position to buy her a little bungalow down in the south, nearer to myself and my sisters, and ten shillings a week wouldn’t be enough for me to do this, so I hardened my heart and began to look around. It wasn’t necessary for me to go to an agency. By now I was well enough known to the staffs of the big houses to be able to put the word round that I was thinking of making a change for something to be suggested to me through the grapevine. And there was the added advantage of knowing in that way everything about the job and the person I’d be working for. Employers used to set great store by references. They had to be immaculate, otherwise you stood no chance of the job. In my early days in service I thought that we ought to have the right to demand something of the same from our employers, before we decided whether to take the job on or not, but after a few years in work this wasn’t necessary. We had a ‘Who’s Who’ and a ‘What’s What’ below stairs which contained more personal and colourful information about the gentry than ever the written version did. There was also a black list, and woe betide anyone who got on it. It could spell ruination for any hostess.
    As it happened I didn’t need recourse to the underground. Ascot week followed close on my decision to make a change and as always we spent it with the Astors at Cliveden. One evening I was standing outside Lady Cranborne’s bedroom door; she had taken her bath and was making herself presentable before calling me in to dress her. I think that I should explain here that ladies never exposed their bodies to their maids. I never saw any of my ladies naked, except for Lady Astor, and then only when she was nearing the end of her life and needed me to help her do everything. This modesty may seem somewhat incomprehensible now; then it wasn’t. Dignity at all times and in all places was very much the order of the day and while I think all my ladies could have preserved theirs even in the nude, some others had figures so grotesque that the memory of them when they were in the mood to command would have sent many maids into hysterics.
    As I was saying, I was waiting outside Lady Cranborne’s door when Lady Astor passed down the corridor talking to her maid, Mrs Vidler. She glanced at me and said, ‘Good evening.’ I’d visited Cliveden many times so my face