Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, is home for Christmas with her beloved parents whilst Lettice returns to her own family home in Wiltshire. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden and has just recently been promoted to Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith.
It is Christmas Eve, and Ada is busy making Yorkshire puddings for today’s dinner* as a dry run for Christmas Day on the large round kitchen table in the middle of the room, whilst George is helping to wash up some dishes for her at the sink in the corner of the room. Edith sits next to her mother at the table, carefully cutting strips of colourful paper to make paper chains with, sticking them with some homemade flour and water glue.
“I don’t see why you have to make Yorkshire puds today, Mum,” Edith says as she cuts a strip of bright royal blue paper. “You’ve been making them for longer than I’ve been alive, so we all know they will be wonderful tomorrow.”
“Ah! Ah!” scolds George, glancing over his right shoulder and glaring at his daughter as he dunks a plate in the trough of hot soapy water. “Don’t stop your Mum doing what she wants!” he says admonishingly.
“You’re just saying that, so you get some with your tea!” laughs his daughter as she sticks the two ends of the paper together, making another link in her paper chain.
“If your Mum wants to test out her cooking, Edith love, who am I to complain if I enjoy the proceeds from it.”
“You never can be sure,” Ada explains. “Especially with this old girl.” She runs her hand lovingly over a cold blacklead part of the kitchen range affectionately. “She’s getting like me.”
“Temperamental as she gets older.” George laughs as he places the plate he has just washed on the wooden draining board next to the sink.
“What was that you were saying about enjoying the proceeds of my endeavours, George?” Ada asks threatening him playfully with the metal spoon that she has stirred the Yorkshire Pudding mixture with.
“Careful!” George replies. “Don’t waste any of that precious pudding batter.”
Ada laughs and starts to pour the thick pale yellow mixture of eggs, flour and milk into one of the six wells of hot fat in one of her well used muffin tins.
“I’m going to miss Bert this Christmas.” Edith sighs heavily glancing up at Ada pouring as she takes a strip of emerald green paper and winds it through the blue piece she has stuck. “It won’t be the same without him.”
“I know, Edith love,” Ada replies kindly. “But this is what happens when you work as a steward on a ship.”
“It’s not as much fun making paper chains without him.” Edith grumbles, sticking the green paper ends together sulkily. “And it won’t be the same without his laughter on Christmas morning. It’s like the war, all over again.”
“Except we know he’s safe and happy,” tempers Ada. “Thank the Lord.” Her hands tremble almost imperceptibly as she pours the batter, remembering the Christmases without her son, always worrying whether he was ever going to come home again.
“And there’s no rationing.” adds George. “Thank goodness!”
“No wheat,” Ada remembers. “Having to eat beans because there was no beef, pork or mutton to be had.”
“It still won’t be the same without him, Mum.”
“Be that as it may, we shall have to make sure we have an extra jolly time of it this Christmas in spite of his absence.” Ada confirms. “Bert wouldn’t want us to be sad.”
“Don’t worry, Edith love. Just think of the grand Christmas present he will bring you back from his travels. Besides,” pipes up George, depositing another plate into one of the grooves of the worn wooden draining board. “Bert will be having a cracker of a Christmas. Fancy spending Christmas Day in Australia, in the middle of summer time?”
“There’s something unnatural about Christmas in the middle of summer time.” Ada mutters. “It’s foreign.”
“I’ll be back at work at Miss Lettice’s before his ship docks in Southampton.” mutters Edith.
“What a lark!” George muses, having not heard his daughter. “He’ll be having a jolly time of it, Edith love. He’s footloose and fancy free** in a beautiful city with all his chums from the ship for company. I know what I’d be doing if I were him.”
“Yes, well lucky you aren’t!” Ada chortles. Pouring batter into the next well she adds more seriously, “I just hope he doesn’t have too good a time of it. As you say George, he’s footloose and fancy free.”
“What harm can the boy come to, Ada?”
“Plenty can happen, and well you know it!” Ada gives her husband a knowing look as she turns and inserts the muffin tin of pudding batter into the hot oven, before glancing at Edith picking up a cobalt blue strip of paper to add to the chain. “Especially if he is larking about with other lads. He’s no family to spend Christmas Day with, and a pocket full of wages.”
“Every city has its temptations, Ada.” George turns back and plunges his hands into the hot water again, reaching blindly for pieces of cutler along the bottom of the worn trough. “At least he is in one of the richest in the world***.”
“Well, if it’s one of the richest cities, then Melbourne is bound to have so many temptations!” Ada moans.
“We will just have to trust that we’ve brought up Bert well enough that he won’t give into them. He didn’t during the war.”
“He was younger then: more timid and shy, and not so worldly as he is now.”
“Well no matter what he does,” George withdraws his hands from the water and turns around, drying them on the tea towel draped over his left shoulder as he leans against the trough. “You won’t be there to police his movements, so you’ll just have to trust him.”
“So long as he doesn’t get some Australian girl in the family way.”
“To young to be a grandmother, eh?” George winks at his wife.
“Of course I’m too young!” Ada self-consciously winds a loose strand of her mousy brown hair, limp with perspiration from working so near to the range, behind her ear.
“And far too beautiful to be one yet too, I might add.” George says, giving his wife a beaming smile as he walks across the short space between the sink and Ada.
“You tell her, Dad!” Edith says proudly, smiling up at her happy parents, taking up a purple strip of paper to add to her ever lengthening chain.
George lovingly wraps his hands around his wife’s waist, which even after having two children is still slender and elegant like it was when he first wrapped his arms around it when they first began courting. He rests his head on her shoulder and breathes in her scent: the familiar fragrance of soap, the comforting smell of baking and the sweetness of a small amount of perspiration. It’s a comforting scent and one he has become familiar with since they were first married in 1896.
“Oh get away with you!” Ada chuckles as his hands move from her waist and wrap around her smaller hands as she picks up the nearly empty white porcelain dish of pudding batter. “Don’t make me spill any of my batter, George.”
“Anyway, if Edith brought her young man over for Christmas Day, we wouldn’t feel Bert’s loss so much,” George adds pointedly, looking directly at his daughter. “Would we Ada? We’d have a lad in the house, just as if he were here!”
“Dad!” Edith gasps, looking up from her paper chain making.
“That’s right, George.”
“Mum!”
“Well, it’s true, Edith. If you had invited him for Christmas, we could finally meet him.” Ada remarks, wiping the kitchen table with her yellow dishcloth. “All we hear about is ‘Frank this’ and ‘Frank that’! When are we going to meet this Frank?”
“Soon Mum.”
“You’ve been saying that for months now.” Ada scolds dismissively. “You’ve been seeing your young Frank for more than half a year now, Edith love. Are you still not sure about him after all this time?”
“Oh no, I am Mum, but, well,” she makes light of the questioning of her parents. “I don’t want Dad scaring him off when I’ve finally found myself a nice chap, now do I?”
“Cheeky!” George waves an admonishing finger at is daughter jokingly. “You are serious about him though? And he’s serious about you?”
“Yes of course, Dad!” Edith replies, giving him a surprised look. “You know that I wouldn’t step out with a chap I didn’t fancy and wasn’t serious about.”
“And ahem.,” He clears his throat awkwardly. “And he’s decent,” He emphasises the last word seriously. “He’s not well,” He starts flapping the dishcloth about in the air in front of him. “You know, a cad.”
Edith looks perplexed for a moment and then realises what he’s trying to say. “Dad!” she gasps. She feels the flush of reddish pink run up her neck and fill her cheeks. “Don’t worry Dad.” She looks to her mother. “Mum’s talked to me about, well, about boys.” She feels the flush in her cheeks intensify as she says it. “Frank knows that he can’t do anything but kiss me chastely in the back row of the pictures or take me dancing at the Hammersmith Palais**** unless he puts a ring on my finger.”
“Well, that’s more than I could do with your mum when we were courting.” He holds his wife at arm’s length and smiles lovingly at her before giving her a bold kiss on the lips. “We’d barely kissed before our wedding day, had we Ada?”
“I should think not, George! I’d never had married you if you made unwanted advances when we were courting.” Turning to her daughter she continues, “It wouldn’t have been proper.”
“Oh Mum, Dad, we’re in the Twentieth Century now, and things have changed a bit since you two were stepping out together.”
“Not that much it hasn’t.” mutters George. “Your Miss Chetwynd might fill your head with some fanciful ideas about men and women: who is who and what is what. But I do know, that,” Once again he puts emphasis on the last word. “Hasn’t changed.”
“Don’t worry Dad. Miss Lettice tells me lots of things about the new emancipated woman,” Ada snorts derisively at the idea of such women. “But,” continues Edith. “I promise she never says anything about that sort of thing. I’m not a silly girl, Dad. You and Mum made sure of that, and I’m grateful.”
“That’s just as well.” George huffs, entwining his fat sausage like fingers with his wife’s careworn ones. “And is that parlour maid friend of yours from your old house still going with you to the Hammersmith Palais?”
“Hilda? Oh yes Dad. She comes along with Frank and me. Frank is such a gentleman that sometimes he’ll ask me if I mind if he asks her for a dance if a chap hasn’t asked her for a while.”
George’s eyes widen. “And do you?”
“What?”
“Mind?”
“Oh no, Dad!” Edith assures her father with a gentle smile and a soft giggle. “I trust Frank. He’s nice.”
“Well I hope he is.”
“He would never do anything with Hilda, and if he had, I would know about it.”
“I’m sure you know your Frank and your friend well enough, Edith love.” Ada says calmly.
“Don’t worry, Mum and Dad,” Edith lets the Christmas paper chain drop onto the table with a sigh. “You’ll get to meet Frank soon enough. I just want to let Frank do what is right at his own pace, without any pressure.”
“We’re not pressuring him, Edith love.” George remarks as he returns to the sink and starts drying the collection of pots and dishes on the draining board.
“No Dad, you’re pressuring me.”
“What do you mean by do what is right, Edith?” queries Ada.
“Well, Frank’s a real gentleman and he’s trying to better himself. As the man in the relationship, he wants me to meet his family first, and then he’ll get to meet you. Frank’s parents died during the Spanish Flu epidemic, so he only has his Granny left now. She lives in Upton Park over in the East End. He’s been waiting for the right time to introduce us, and he finally wants me to meet her in the new year. I guess it’s his way of sharing the fact that I’m his intended.”
“Well that’s all right then, Edith love,” George sighs with satisfaction. “Since you say you’re serious about each other, I need to meet the man who is one day going to ask me for permission to marry you.” He looks earnestly at his daughter, the masculine topic of permission to marry at odds with the less masculine sight of him drying dishes. “And that is something that hasn’t changed with the new century, my girl!”
“And that’s the other reason why I don’t want to bring him home yet, Dad. I want no talk of marriage. Not right now, anyway.”
“You were the one who mentioned it in the first place, love.”
“Yes, but you’ll be the one who will suggest that you and Frank have a chat, ‘man-to-man’ up in the front parlour,” she imitates her father’s deeper voice before returning to her own standard speaking voice pitch and tone. “And then you’ll put the hard word on him.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” George asks as he takes up the last of the drying, a blue and white china tureen decorated with roses. “You’re my only daughter. If he’s serious about you, it’s a conversation to be had.”
“You’re Dad’s right, Edith love.” Ada remarks as she checks the time on the old ticking kitchen wall clock hanging on the wall opposite the range. “We just want to make sure that his intentions are honourable.”
“Of course my Frank is honourable.” Edith defends him.
“Then he won’t mind a serious chat about his intentions.” Ada says sagely.
“You both sound as bad as Miss Lettice’s father, the Viscount, trying to marry her off.”
“Now, now my girl, even on my new Line Manager wages, I can’t afford to throw a party to marry you off at the Sally Ann***** yet.” George jokes.
“I’m being serious Dad!” Edith takes up a pale pink piece of paper and adds it to her paper chain. “Miss Lettice’s father wants her married to this new chap she met for the first time since she was a little girl at the ball he and Lady Chetwynd threw for her.”
“Well, I can understand that. Any father wants the best for his daughter.”
“Or mother.” adds Ada.
“You are your own woman now, Edith love.” George dries his hands on the dishcloth. “I won’t force you to bring him home, but I hope you will, soon. And,” He pauses mid thought.
“And?” Edith pipes up, anxious to know what he wants to say.
“And when you do, I’ll try not to be so much like Lord what’s-his-name.” he concludes a little begrudgingly.
“Oh Dad!” Edith jumps up from the table and runs over to her father, throwing her arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you! You’re a brick!”
George grabs her around the waist and holds her a short length away from him as he looks his daughter up and down appraisingly. “A brick?”
“Yes Dad! A real brick!”
“How on earth do I resemble a square of baked red clay?”
“Oh Dad!” Edith sighs. “You don’t have to be so literal! I don’t mean you look like a brick! It means you are being a support. You know, like a brick wall supports the roof.” She looks up to the dirty ceiling above, yellowed and darkened by the coal range and cooking in the kitchen over many years.
“Oh.” George releases his daughter and folds his arms akimbo as she places the dishrag over the edge of the sink. “Twentieth Century speak?”
“Yes Dad!” Edith replies, her eyes glittering. “Miss Lettice taught me that one.”
“Well,” Ada says with satisfaction as she opens the oven door. “This is something Miss Chetwynd didn’t teach you, but I might one day.”
She drops the muffin pan on her wooden chopping board. Out of each hole rises a fluffy golden brown Yorkshire pudding, and the air is suddenly filled with the smell of Christmas.
“Looks and smells grand, Mum!” Edith says with a satisfied smile.
*It was not uncommon in lower-class households for luncheon to be the main meal of the day, and thus, even though it was had in the middle of the day, it was often referred to as dinner. A lighter meal taken in the evening was often referred to as tea, rather than dinner, often because it was had with a cup of tea, and in some very poor households might only have consisted of a slice of thin bread and dripping.
**Both footloose and fancy-free came into use separately in the 1600s. Footloose originally meant free to move one's feet. It's idiomatic meaning, to be able to make one's own choices without considering any responsibilities, came into use in the 1800s. Fancy-free originally meant to be lacking in romantic attachments.
***Melbourne, Victoria in the 1880s saw extraordinary growth: consumer confidence, easy access to credit, and steep increases in land prices led to an enormous amount of construction. During this "land boom", Melbourne became known as Marvellous Melbourne and reputedly became the richest city in the world, and the second-largest (after London) in the British Empire. By the 1920s, whilst it was no longer the richest city in the world, it was still one of the wealthiest ones.
****The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
*****During the Great War, the Salvation Army’s overseas activities were organised by British Salvationists. They operated well equipped huts, canteens, rest facilities, and hostels in Britain, France and Belgium. There, war-weary troops could bathe, refresh their clothing, eat decent food, and prepare themselves physically, mentally, and spiritually for the always difficult return to the trenches. The troops coined the affectionate nickname ‘Sally Ann’ to describe the Salvation Army and the name stuck after the war and was used to describe not only the Salvation Army itself, but their Citadels and halls.
This cluttered, yet cheerful domestic scene of washing dishes is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The Yorkshire puddings and batter in the white porcelain bowl on the kitchen table have been made in England by hand by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled flour cannister in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, has been aged on purpose. An artisan piece, it comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The Brown Betty teapot, made of real glazed pottery, also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop. The bowl of eggs and the beater, the empty muffin pan and the various odd china pieces all come from online stockists of miniatures on E-Bay. The shears with black handles in the basket open and close. Made of metal, they came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. The colourful paper chains were made by me.
In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table, the Windsor chair and the ladderback chair to the left of the photo, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery and silver pots on them which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. There are also some rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and a bread tin which are part of the set from which the flour cannister is from. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutionised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a jar of Marmite, a jar of Bovril and some Oxo stock cubes. All these items are 1:12 size artisan miniatures made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with great attention to detail paid to their labels and the shapes of their jars and cans.
Bovril is the trademarked name of a thick and salty meat extract paste similar to a yeast extract, developed in the 1870s by John Lawson Johnston. It is sold in a distinctive bulbous jar, and as cubes and granules. Bovril is owned and distributed by Unilever UK. Its appearance is similar to Marmite and Vegemite. Bovril can be made into a drink ("beef tea") by diluting with hot water or, less commonly, with milk. It can be used as a flavouring for soups, broth, stews or porridge, or as a spread, especially on toast in a similar fashion to Marmite and Vegemite
Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion.
Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
