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 we are in the very modern and up-to-date 1920s kitchen of Lettice’s flat: Edith her maid’s preserve. It is Sunday, Edith’s day off and she is busily preparing for an excursion with her beau, local grocery delivery boy, Frank Leadbetter. The deal pine kitchen table is covered with all that is required to make a selection of sandwiches, with a loaf of fluffy fresh bread, a bar of bright yellow butter, some ripe red tomatoes and a frilly head of green lettuce. After the announcement of the sudden collapse of her ‘uncle’ Lord Sherbourne Tyrwhitt, patriarch of the family living on the estate adjunct to that of Lettice’s parents, Lettice has hurriedly returned to her grand Georgian family home of Glynes in Wiltshire, leaving Edith with ample time on her hands to plan a picnic for she and Frank. The picnic basket Edith’s brother, Bert, brought back for her from Australia as a Christmas gift sits to the side, waiting to be filled. As Edith prepares the sandwiches, she is kept company by her best friend Hilda, who also has Sundays off.
“So, what’s on the menu for today then?” Hilda asks as she looks at Edith deftly slicing pieces of bread from a loaf before then cutting a tomato in half.
“Well, tomato and lettuce sandwiches,” Edith replies, indicating with the blade of her knife to the tomatoes on the board before her and the head of lettuce between the two girls. “I’ve got some nice cheese as well for cheese and tomato sandwiches and with Miss Lettice away, there is half a cucumber left, so I thought I’d use it up by making cucumber sandwiches.”
“A feast fit for a king, no less!” Hilda says encouragingly.
“Oh there’s more.” Edith continues. “I also baked a cherry pie for dessert, using Mum’s recipe.”
“Now, I wish I was coming with you, Edith!” Hilda enthuses. “Where are you and Frank going for your picnic?” she asks Edith as she toys with a lettuce leaf on the head that Edith has yet to attack with her knife.
“We thought we might go to Kensington gardens today.” Edith replies as she cuts a smaller tomato bought from Willison’s Grocers and starts slicing it into thin slivers. “It’s not too far away, and we like it there.”
“Well, you’re blessed with a beautiful, sunny day for it.” Hilda remarks cheerfully, pointing to the kitchen window, through which sunlight streams.
Edith stops slicing the tomato, allowing her knife to come to rest in a pool of tomato juice on the cutting board. She glances anxiously at her best friend. “You don’t mind, do you Hilda?”
Hilda stops toying with the lettuce leaf. “Mind? Whatever do you mean, Edith? Why should I mind?”
A month ago, as Edith, Frank and Hilda were in Hilda’s employer’s kitchen in Hill Street about to leave to go dancing at the Hammersmith Palais de Danse* on their Sunday afternoon off, Hilda grew despondent about going. With the dearth of young, or even older, eligible men, Hilda wondered why she bothered to go dancing, when she never met any men and usually ended up dancing with other women who were wallflowers** like her. Ever since then, Edith has been acutely aware of her best friend’s feelings of loneliness. When the two had been housemaids together at the home of Mrs. Plaistow in Pimlico it hadn’t mattered so much as both girls had been single and their shared sense of being without a beau strengthened their bond. However, now Edith has Frank, so Edith has been especially conscious to include Hilda even more than usual in her plans ever since, in an effort to compensate for her friend’s lack of a beau. Rather than go dancing, where the lack of men is so painfully evident, at Frank’s suggestion, he and Edith have altered their usual Sunday afternoon plans and done things where they could include Hilda easily. However, in spite of her conscious efforts, with the good weather of summer in the air, and Lettice being away for an indefinite period of time as she returns to Wiltshire on an urgent family matter, Edith is anxious to use the picnic basket her brother, Bert, brought her back from Australia, and have a picnic just for she and Frank for a change.
“Well, I just don’t want you at a loose end is all, Hilda.” Edith replies. “I know you’ve been feeling a bit low ever since that afternoon we went dancing.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, Edith.” Hilda scoffs with a dismissive wave as she sinks back from the table into the rounded back of the second Windsor chair in Edith’s kitchen.
“Of course I have to worry about you, Hilda!” Edith retorts. “You are my best friend, after all.”
“Well, you don’t need to today, Edith.” Hilda assures her. “Today is a lovely day for you and Frank to go and enjoy your Sunday off without me.” She looks at her friend earnestly. “I know you Edith, and I know what you’ve been doing.”
“Me?” Edith hurriedly picks up her knife and finishes slicing the tomato, focussing all her attention on her task, refusing to engage her friend’s gaze. “I haven’t been doing anything.”
“Yes you have, Edith. Don’t deny it.” Hilda wags her fleshy right index finger admonishingly at Edith. “I know that ever since we went dancing that Sunday, you and Frank have been colluding to include me in more of your Sunday afternoon activities to make sure I don’t feel left out.”
“Oh what rubbish you talk sometimes, Hilda!” Edith says, brushing her friend’s observation off as easily as she sweeps the slices of tomato aside with the flat of her knife. She cuts off a slice of fluffy white bread from the loaf at her left and begins to butter it. “I’ve done no such thing!”
“Haven’t you?” Hilda counters rhetorically. “What about the fact that last week we went to the Angel*** rather than go dancing.”
“That was just so we could do something different for a change, Hilda. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”
“Oh, I enjoyed it well enough, but it seemed a bit unusual to break from our usual routine.”
“Frank and I wanted to do something different for a change. We don’t always want to go to the same places.”
“I’m sure you two would have preferred to have been alone and sitting in the back of the Premier in East Ham**** with the other young couples in the dark, rather than sitting with me in the middle seats.”
“I’ll have you know, Hilda Clerkenwell, that I very much wanted to see ‘Bell Boy 13’*****.”
“Mmm…hmmm.” replies Hilda disbelievingly.
“I did, Hilda!” Edith says firmly, feverishly buttering the bread.
“Well, even if that is the case,” Hilda retorts. “It’s high time you and Frank had a Sunday on your own for a change, rather than spend it with me as well. However jolly the outing may be for me, I’m a third wheel.”
“You’re never that, Hilda!” Edith assures her.
Hilda gives her friend a knowing look again before speaking. “You don’t often get to take advantage of Miss Lettice being away for an indefinite period.”
“That’s true, although it comes about through unfortunate circumstances. A relation has been taken ill.”
“Well, unfortunate for her or not, you should take advantage of the fortuitous circumstance it creates for you and enjoy the summer day with Frank.” She runs her finger around the raised edge of the Delftware plate on which a bar of glossy yellow butter sits.
Edith pauses slicing another piece of bread from the loaf and looks at Hilda, whose face is hidden my a mass of brown waves as she hangs her head. “There’s something else going on here.” she says firmly. “I know there is. I have sensed it ever since you arrived. Come on Hilda, spit it out!”
“Well, there is an extra reason why you needn’t worry about me every Sunday.”
Edith drops the bread knife onto the cutting board where it lands with a loud clatter. “You haven’t finally met a nice young man, have you?” she gasps excitedly.
Hilda looks to her friend. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Edith, but no.”
“Oh, I was hoping that chap I saw you chatting to at the bar of the Angel when you bought us a round of drinks might have taken a shine to you.”
“Goodness no!” Hilda laughs loudly. “He was a sailor from Norway. He was only asking me whether I knew of any places he could go for entertainment around there. Once I said I didn’t, he lost interest in me very swiftly.”
“So what is it then?”
“Well,” Hilda says sheepishly. “You mustn’t laugh at me.”
“I’d never laugh at you, Hilda.”
“Well, you know the last time we went to visit Mrs. Minkin’s haberdashery in Whitechapel?”
“Yes, I bought some new black feathers for my straw cloche after the ones on it were damaged on that windy day.” Edith recollects. “But you didn’t buy anything.”
“No, you’re right, I didn’t,” Hilda agrees. “But I did pick up a flyer for a group who knit socks, scarves and balaclavas for the poor in the East End.”
“But you don’t know how to knit!” laughs Edith.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Hilda,” Edith quickly pipes up, stopping her laughter. “I didn’t mean to laugh.” She covers her mouth as she looks apologetically at her friend. “It is just a surprise is all. I mean, you don’t know how to knit. I tried to teach you, but,” She pauses for a moment to think how to best couch the outcomes without hurting her friend’s feelings any more than she may already have by laughing at the idea of her knitting. “Well, you just never took to it. Did you?”
“Well, I wasn’t really keen to learn then.” Hilda admits. “As I recall, you were the one who thought I should learn, and you were so keen to teach me that I thought I’d have a go at it, but my heart wasn’t really in it.”
“And that’s changed now?”
“Can’t a girl change her mind?”
“Oh of course she can Hilda!” Edith defends. “I’m so happy for you,” she adds. “But I’m intrigued. What was it that changed your mind? What has inspired you to what to learn to knit, since Mrs. Minkin and I couldn’t?”
“I suppose it was looking around me when we go down to the East End. Up here in Mayfair everything is so nice, and there is enough for everyone, but down there, there are children walking about wearing rags. I can’t afford to feed the starving children of the East End, but maybe I can do some good and help knit them some things to help keep them warm.”
“What a lovely idea, Hilda.” Edith says encouragingly. “I’m so proud of you for doing it. I’ve never really thought to do anything like that before.”
“Well, I figured I could learn something new, and it might help fill some of my Sundays, so that way you don’t have to include me in your plans.”
“I hope you know that Frank and I don’t mind having you tag along, Hilda.”
“I know you don’t, because you’re my best friend, and because Frank is a very special and understanding chap.” Hilda replies with a sad smile. “Many other young men wouldn’t be so tolerant.”
“It isn’t about tolerance, for either of us.” Edith defends.
“I know that too, Edith. I’m just stating a fact that there aren’t many young men like Frank out there, which is all the more reason why you should be enjoying at least the occasional Sunday in the pleasure of his company without me. He’s a good man, Edith, and as you know, men in general are hard to come by, so that makes him even more special. Better hang on to him and not let go, Edith.”
“I know.”
“Anyway, I like the sound of joining a group where I can come and go as I like, so I’m not committed to giving up all my free Sundays, so we can still go dancing at the Hammersmith Palais or go to the pictures at the West Ham Premier.” Her smile changes as little from sad to hopeful. “And who knows? I might make some new lady friends and acquaintances who have eligible bachelors who are just waiting for a girl like me who can knit them a scarf, or socks.”
“Or a jumper!” laughs Edith.
“Or a balaclava!” adds Hilda, joining in Edith’s laughing.
“I’m happy for you, Hilda.”
“Well, I had to do something to get me out of the funk I’ve been in lately,” Hilda replies. “So it was join the knitting circle or join the Socialist Party in Bloomsbury.” she adds jokingly.
Edith joins in with her friend’s mischievous laughter.
“By the way, Edith. If there happen to be a few too many sandwiches made, I’ll happily take a few with me to the knitting circle.”
Edith smiles. “I’ll wrap up a few for you in a brown paper bag, Hilda.”
“Thanks ever so, Edith.” Hilda replies gratefully.
*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.
**A wallflower, as well as being a species of flower is also an informal description of a person, usually a woman or young girl, who has no one to dance with or who feels shy, awkward, or excluded at a party.
***The Angel, one of the oldest Rotherhithe pubs, is now in splendid isolation in front of the remains of Edward III's mansion on the Thames Path at the western edge of Rotherhithe. The site was first used when the Bermondsey Abbey monks used to brew beer which they sold to pilgrims. It is located at 24 Rotherhithe St, opposite Execution Dock in Wapping. It has two storeys, plus an attic. It is built of multi-coloured stock brick with a stucco cornice and blocking course. The ground floor frontage is made of wood. There is an area of segmental arches on the first floor with sash windows, and it is topped by a low pitched slate roof. Its Thames frontage has an unusual weatherboarded gallery on wooden posts. The interior is divided by wooden panels into five small rooms. In the early 20th Century its reputation and location attracted local artists including Augustus John and James Abbott McNeil Whistler. In the 1940s and 50s it became a popular destination for celebrities including Laurel and Hardy. Today its customers are local residents, tourists and people walking the Thames Path.
****The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.
*****’Bell Boy 13’ is a 1923 American silent comedy film directed by William A. Seiter, and starring Douglas MacLean, John Steppling, Margaret Loomis, William Courtright, Emily Gerdes, and Eugene Burr. College graduate Harry Elrod (Douglas MacLean) wishes to marry actress Kitty Clyde (Margaret Loomis), but his Uncle Ellrey Elrod (John Steppling) has picked out Angela Fish (Emily Gerdes) as a wife for his nephew. Harry arranges an elopement with Kitty. His uncle's suspicions are aroused and he trails Harry continuously. Miss Fish and her father the Reverend Doctor Wilbur Fish (William Courtright) call. Harry in desperation starts a fire in his room. He is rescued by the fire brigade and then stages a run through the streets in the fire chief's car, intending to catch another train and follow Kitty. He escapes the pursuing firemen, boards the train, and arrives safely at the Philadelphia hotel where Kitty will meet him. There he finds that she has changed her mind, coming to believe that he must have his uncle's consent. He then receives a telegram from his uncle, disowning him. Broke, Harry takes a job as a hotel bell boy. In uniform, he enters where Kitty is dining with Mr. Haskell, her press agent, and sits down, but is dragged away by the indignant hotel manager. Uncle Ellrey comes to the hotel but is shown the wrong room by Harry, so he demands that Harry be fired. The manager, ever ready to make a guest happy, is ready to oblige him, but Harry turns Bolshevist and induces the entire hotel staff to go on strike. The end result is that the uncle is defeated, and Harry wins Kitty.
This busy domestic kitchen scene is a little different to what you might think, for whilst it looks very authentic, it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my miniatures collection, some of which come from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
On Edith’s deal table is a panoply of things as she readies her picnic luncheon. The chopping board, butter knife and tomatoes all came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The tomato slices come from an English stockist of 1:12 artisan miniatures whom I found on E-Bay. The loaf of bread is made from polymer clay and looks remarkably realistic. It was made by Polly’s Pantry in America. The bar of butter on the Delftware plate I have had since I was about six. It came under a 1:12 scale silver butter dish I was given as part of a Christmas gift. The knife on the chopping board and the bread knife come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures Shop in the United Kingdom. The head of lettuce has been made by an unknown artisan and is made of very thinly rolled clay which has had very realistic detailing picked out on its leaves before being painted. I bought it as part of a job lot of 1:12 size miniature artisan food pieces at an auction when I was a teenager. The Deftware plates are part of a 1:12 size miniature porcelain dinner set which I acquired from a seller in America through E-Bay.
To the left of the picture you can see the wicker picnic basket that Bert brought home for Edith. In truth it is not Australian made, but was made by an unknown miniature artisan in America. The floral patterns on the top have been hand painted. The hinged lids lift, just like a real hamper, so things can be put inside.
Edith’s Windsor chair is a hand-turned 1:12 artisan miniature which came from America. Unfortunately, the artist did not carve their name under the seat, but it is definitely an unmarked artisan piece.
In the background you can see a very modern and up-to-date 1920s gas stove on which stand some shiny brass pieces acquired from various online stockists on 1:12 miniatures. The stove would have been expensive to instal at the time, and it would have been the cook’s or maid’s pleasure to cook on and in. It would have included a thermostat for perfect cooking and without the need of coal, it was much cleaner to feed, use and easier to clean. It is not unlike those made by the Roper Stove Company in the 1920s. The Roper Stove Company previously named the Florence-Wehrle Company among other names, was founded in 1883. Located in Newark, Ohio, the company was once the largest stove producer in the world. Today, the Roper Stove Company is a brand of Whirlpool.
On the bench in the background is a toaster: a very modern convenience for a household even in the early 1920s, but essential when there was no longer a kitchen range on which to toast the bread. Although toasters had been readily available since the turn of the century, they were not commonplace in British kitchens until well after the Great War in the late 1930s. Next to the toaster is a biscuit barrel painted in the style of English ceramic artist Clarice Cliff which is a hand painted 1:12 miniature made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. It contains its own selection of miniature hand-made chocolate biscuits! Next to that stands a bread crock. There is also a jar of Golden Shred orange marmalade made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Golden Shred orange marmalade still exists today and is a common household brand both in Britain and Australia. It is produced by Robertson’s. Robertson’s Golden Shred recipe perfected since 1874 is a clear and tangy orange marmalade, which according to their modern day jars is “perfect for Paddington’s marmalade sandwiches”. Robertson’s marmalade dates back to 1874 when Mrs. Robertson started making marmalade in the family grocery shop in Paisley, Scotland.