Chapter Thirteen

     On March 27th, 1946 our son was born. My mother-in-law insisted I went to a private nursing home in Stanmore. This turned out to be the recently vacated home of the last Prime Minister, Clement Attlee. It had been taken over by one of the Riding School’s client, Dr. Eleanor Bergmann, a German Jewish doctor who had managed to escape just before war started. I’m afraid I did not enjoy the ordeal. It was five days hard labour. I was not helped by any of the aids mothers are given these days. The baby was fine, a boy of 7lbs. 6 ozs and very active, a quality that remained with him throughout his life. We had decided to call him Clive Francis, after Sir Francis Younghusband, the soldier and mystic, a distant relative of Peter’s father.

    After it was all over, my Doctor, Dr.Byworth finally arrived. Ignoring me, he took out his diary and consulted the astrological details of my new son. ‘Ah,’ he said ‘Aries under the influence of Jupiter, He’ll have an interesting life’.

     And so he did have but sadly it was cut short at the age of 50 years. Of course I was proud of my new son and never thought about what sadness there would be in the far-off future.

     The following day Peter was demobbed. He was issued with a new three piece suit and £32 gratuity. Then on his first day as a civilian, he conducted an 18 piece dance orchestra for Hunt Ball of the Old Berkeley Hunt. This was the most important booking he had ever received. So it was quite a week for all of us.

     The next question was where would we find a regular income? There was no chance of me getting a University education, much as I wished for one, since only the men returning from war were given this chance. I could not go back to train as an actuary with a small baby. Peter's pre-war job as an assistant to a Film Editor in the Denham Studios no longer existed as no films where being made. Although the dance orchestra provided some income, it was not something we could rely on regularly.

     We would have to take any opportunity that was offered. Thus I became a part-time secretary to my father-in-law at the Stanmore Riding School and Peter a sales representative with Jamal, a hairdressing product company. As he was a great raconteur and an excellent driver, he enjoyed the freedom of travelling around the country making new contacts despite the fact that the prospects were not enormous.

     However, his semi-pro dance band activities prospered.  Many people were celebrating their return to a more normal life. He played at many interesting occasions as well as at private parties in enormous mansions whilst I acted as his business manager. He did a lot of work for the Victoria Halls in Southampton Row and became very good friends with the General Manager, Vernon Herbert. Through him we were introduced to good food and good wines. Even though it was illegal at that time to charge more than five shillings (twenty five pence) for any meal, Vernon through his contacts took us out to incredible meals in amazing restaurants.  I recall Vernon inviting us to dine at the Trocadero in central London, where he was a friend of both the General Manager and the Maitre Chef. A large menu was placed upright in front of us; to hide the dishes we were being served. We had a fantastic choice. No way would it have cost only five shillings although that was all they charged. I guess the copious bottles of wine we consumed made up for it.

     Living as we did over the stables, horses were very much part of our lives. We could hear them at night below, when they became restive. Clive from an early age would sit in his pram in the yard as the horses were being groomed. His proud grandfather had him sitting on a horse at the age of two. He was known to all the clients.

     Captain Younghusband provided horses and riders for many of the film studios in the vicinity as well as doubling for some of the stars. He took George Arliss’s place in the riding scenes in The House of Rothschild. He taught Elizabeth Taylor to ride for National Velvet and Janette Scott for Thirty Nine Steps. Ann Ziegler and Webster Booth pushed Clive’s pram down to the nearby for a Sunday drink and Ronnie Shiner always came up and chatted to him. Clive had no idea who all these famous actors were but he gurgled and smiled at them nevertheless.

    In September 1947, we had a surprise invitation to spend a week’s holiday with a cousin of Peter’s mother who owned the West Country Inn, four miles outside the village of Hartland in North Devon. This small hotel, on the borders of Devon and Cornwall, sited on high land one mile inland from the sea, was a delightful spot. But of course as petrol was still rationed until 1953, it was not very busy. Tourism was non-existent. We managed to save enough petrol for the journey and drove down to this part of Devon which was new territory to both of us.

      We enjoyed our stay, the first holiday either of us had had for many years. Mr. and Mrs. Lowe were then in their early sixties. She was a rather large and formidable lady and had married late in life. Victor, her husband, was a White Russian and as he informed us, a relative of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. He was a small man and obviously well controlled by his wife who held the purse strings. Mrs. Lowe was the one with the money

    The hotel was on the border of North Devon and Cornwall and was four miles from the nearest village. It was situated on Bursdon Moor and from the windows, we could look out to the Atlantic. This was the rocky coast of Devon, where in the past the wreckers had operated, tempting passing ships on to the rocks and stealing their cargoes.

     Returning home, we settled back in the usual routine, I learned to ride, taught by Ann Handley-Page. Peter and his brother Derek had both ridden from the age of three and Clive was on a pony at two and a half.

     Some months after our visit, the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Lowe, decided to buy a second property in Wincanton and to our great surprise, in March 1948, they wrote asking us if we would like to take over the running of the Hartland property at a joint salary of £320 per annum plus food and accommodation.    

     Peter was always a countryman at heart. His favourite hobbies were fishing and shooting and growing things. Life at Stanmore was becoming a little difficult. Peter’s mother was killing us with kindness. We felt we were not master of our lives. Tommy, as she was known throughout the riding world, was a character but a little hard to live with. Furthermore, she had not taken kindly when Captain Younghusband asked me to take over the Riding School accounts. In fact each night, she copied my entries in her own writing and tore out the sheets I had entered. However, Tommy was a very generous person and if we mentioned there was anything we needed, she would produce it for us. It became almost overwhelming. We thought it time we stood on our own feet so we made the decision and said yes to the offer! And that is how we became hoteliers. On May 2nd, 1948 we took over management of the West Country Inn.

Facing Civilian Life

Bridging the Centuries 

By Eileen Younghusband