Open Writing

When Mummy and Daddy gave an evening party, we four huddled in the bend of the stairs in our night attire, watching the guests arrive and admiring the dresses. The clear voices of the women, mingling with the deeper voices of the men, and the chatter and laughter made us feel excited and happy.

I loved to watch Mummy dressing for a ball. I helped her draw out her gown from the ottoman at the foot of the bed and spread its folds upon the counterpane. Mummy had two gowns which I thought enchanting, the one of golden satin overlaid with black lace, and the other of a glowing emerald, sparkling all over with hundreds of sequins. These colours showed off her skin to advantage.

I turned my attention to the immensely long hat pins standing in a special vase on the dressing-table. My favourite was topped by a butterfly in blue enamel. Others were made of shining steel, decorated with scrolls and designs. Time and again I watched Mummy pushing these pins, with difficulty, into her straw hats, and I noticed, with distaste, how many hats worn at that time were blemished by rusty pin marks.

I would open her jewel box, and as Mummy picked out the pieces she chose to wear, I delved deeper, sorting out all her little trinkets in a row, asking questions about them. Mummy, busy and intent upon her toilet, grew exasperated and said, "Oh, child, don't fiddle, you must go out of the room if you can't be still." I almost froze where I stood, for I could not miss this delightful dressing up.

Standing very still, I watched her brush her hair with slow movements piling it up on the top of her head. Then the faintest touch of rouge was added to her cheeks, a careful outline made with an eyebrow pencil, and Mummy looked enchanting.

Daddy then came bustling in, happy and relaxed. I hovered about trying to push his gold links into the starched cuffs, watching him at his dressing, amused with his energetic puffing and blowing as he washed his face at the wash basin. On the leather strap hanging from the brass bedstead he sharpened his cut-throat razor while he chatted like a boy, his cheeks rounding with laughter, his blue eyes twinkling, all merry and eager to enjoy the evening.

When he was ready, I stood on tiptoe to help him draw on his tails over the plump, starched shirt, and then handed him his handkerchief and found the silk scarf, but Mummy had to give the finishing touches to the dress tie which only she could adjust and straighten after Daddy had made more than one attempt to tie it properly.

His opera hat was fascinating. Drawing it out of its special leather box, Daddy would hold it and press, and down it went to the brim; then another press, and up it shot into a top hat again. He banged me on the head with it, thinking it the greatest fun!

I was not fond of our children's parties. Being devastatingly shy I always went to them reluctantly. The night before, Doreen and I had our hair parted into strips, and each strip was then rolled over and over pieces of rag so that the final result was two small heads with a ring of tightly drawn, fat bobbles around them. These were most uncomfortable, and there was no place on the pillow where they would fit so that we always had a bad night. That was disagreeable for a beginning!

The morning seemed different; we were forbidden to get our hands too dirty or become overtired and to prevent this we spent some time resting in bed in a darkened room.

Later we dressed in our party frocks. For winter parties we wore a flannel petticoat with a cotton top underneath the starched petticoat. I, being plump and the dress was so shaped that the ribbon slotted just under my tummy made it look very fat and round! Our hair, curly and pretty after the torture of the night before, hung loose, and was held away from our faces by two ribbons matching the colour of those in our clothes. White socks and dancing shoes, the elastic passing round the ankles, completed our attire.

Shetland shawls would be draped over our heads and shoulders, and crossed upon our chests. Over this would come the cloak and hood, and at last we were ready for the cab to call for us.

The boys were in their party sailor suits, their black patent shoes smart with shining steel buckles.

We crowded into the cab for the return journey in the dark, and that was the most enjoyable part as far as I was concerned. The space inside was small and black. The seats had their high backs upholstered in cold, shiny leather, padded and buttoned all over, and a heavy, musty smell hung about. The door at each side had a window let in so that we kept knocking our heads together trying to look out at the same time - at the lampposts as we passed and the stars shining so very far away. Bobby once exclaimed, "Look, the stars are all lighted up." We looked at the tram cars clanking by in a whirl of light. These were only occasional experiences and lent an air of enchantment to the evening.

The League of Pity Fancy Dress Party was always delightful. There was long anticipation, for Mummy, Aunty Ene and we four children all wore fancy dress.

I remember Mummy going as "Folly" with bells hanging tinkling at the ends of the panels of her gown. Upon her head was a high, curved, pointed hat rather like the drawing of Punch on the front of the periodical at that time. In her hand she carried a miniature head of Punch, bells hanging from the neck, all perched on a golden stick, which she waved, and rattled, and pointed laughingly at us.

Auntie Ene wore a dress overhung with rows of tiny patience cards swinging on ribbons, together with a head-dress, and she was the "Queen of Hearts".

One year the boys went as pierrots and we girls as pierettes, the suits and dresses being made in the nursery, the four hats difficult to get just right. I think these were very nice; we felt unencumbered and happy in them. To add the finishing touch Doreen and I had a half moon and a star-shaped beauty patch, one to enhance a dimple, and one under an eye. They made us feel grown-up and we ran to the glass to admire them.

Another year Bobby was "Little Boy Blue", complete with a long, curved horn, with a chain to hang round his shoulder. This had a deep note, very tempting to play too frequently.

The year Doreen looked charming dressed as a Turkish Dancing Girl (the costume copied, very cleverly, from a picture hanging on the nursery wall), I went in my favourite, as a fairy. The dress was made very short, stiff and full, sewn with trails of tinsel. On the back was pinned a pair of gauze wings, and a band of silver with antennae lay upon my head. I waved a wand, crossed over and over all its length with silver ribbon, topped by a bright star. I felt beautiful and was a-tiptoe all the evening.

We met many friends and the fancy dress made it interesting. It was fun to see what the others wore. One boy went two years together as a cat, and on spying me chased me madly up the shiny, slippery floor, I half afraid and half delighted.

I enjoyed our own party, which was held at Lindley Masonic Hall. As it was ours, I lost my shyness and romped and played with abandon, shooting down the slide with glee. We lined up with Mummy to say “Good-bye” to each little friend, handing out a present to everyone. I thought about that party for a long time, and still faintly remember it.

These were the big occasions; others were more intimate, with fewer children at friends’ houses, with the familiar games of Hunt the Slipper, Ring-a-ring-a-roses, Turning the Trencher, Nuts in May, King William, Oranges and Lemons, Tug of War, Postman’s Knock, and sometimes Charades and Musical Chairs. They were simple, happy games that I suppose no longer delight the more sophisticated boys and girls of today.

The party teas were too much for me! At home we had the plainest of fare at tea-time, and I could never resist the rich sweets. While Bobby sensibly stuck to jellies, I chose trifles and creams. Consequently during the night the nurse was usually disturbed from her sleep to cope with an over-greedy, sick child. Perhaps this aftermath was another notch against parties in my mind!