Chapter 2 The World Goes to War

On 28 July 1914 the world was turned upside down. When the great war, as it came to be called, started, we did not know what we were in for. At first, we thought it was all a long way away from the Lake District. It was all going to be over by Christmas. Time went by. Local men started joining the army to do their bit. Walter said that he did not owe Madam anything. He thought that he worked so hard for so little money to prop up Madam's luxurious way of life and she often couldn't remember his name, let alone take any interest in his welfare. He said the army needed men who could work with horses. He went to a local recruiting office, joined up and, having sneaked into the scullery, he kissed me goodbye for the time being, and he was off. Other men servants joined up, too. Madam was furious. She declared that she was going to write to the War Office to ask them how they expected her to keep the household going without men servants. They should prevent the army from recruiting men in domestic service. I don't know if she actually wrote her letter but we had a good laugh in the servants' hall about how it might have been received.

Time went by. The war was going on and on. The government was going to take over the house as a convalescent home for soldiers. Those of us servants who were left were sacked. I found a job on a farm. Before the war they would never have employed a woman, but with so many men, including the farmer's sons, in the army fighting the Hun, they were glad to get me. I was to live with them, like part of the family. On the whole, the farmer and his wife were friendly and kind. They were very worried about their sons. They were pleasantly surprised when they realised I picked up the job quite quickly. I became adept at handling the sheep, working night and day, it seemed, at lambing time. In the summer, I was tossing bales of hay on to haystacks with an enormous pitchfork. The farmer's wife was what they call a good, plain cook. She was very amused to hear from me what was considered everyday fare in the big house. I did teach her one or two things I'd learned in that big kitchen. At the same time, she taught me some things, like stretching the meat with breadcrumbs and how to make butter. Whenever they had a moment to read a newspaper, the news was so gloomy that the farmer and his wife became more and more anxious about what might happen to their sons. The years 1915 and 1916 came and went. The farmer's sons had survived the Battle of the Somme. By the beginning of 1917, they were more relaxed, their sons having survived that carnage. Then I discovered that Walter had died at the Somme. Naturally, the telegram had gone to his mother. She wasn't much of a one for writing letters. I could hardly believe it. I cried and cried. The farmer's wife did try to console me, but I knew she was just so pleased it wasn't one of her sons. Night after night I used to dream that Walter had come to find me on the farm. It was all a mistake and muddle caused by the War Office and he was going to take me away with him to be married. When I woke up and remembered that it was true that Walter was gone and I didn't know what he had suffered, my heart felt heavy, thinking of him lying in cold, foreign ground. The farm work seemed more like drudgery because I didn't know when or how it would end or what would become of me. The farmer's wife said that enough was enough. People were losing their husbands, fiancés, sons and brothers every day. I had to bottle all my sadness up inside myself.

When Armistice Day was announced, we hardly believed it. Seeing as we were a farm, we had to work as usual, but that evening, the farmer's wife got out the bottle of brandy she kept for Christmas and we toasted the peace. The farmer's sons returned from the war, unscathed. They were a lucky family that way. Now I was to be without a job or anywhere to live. I started asking about. At that time, my second cousin was walking out with Tom, who later became her husband. Tom was the elder brother of that Jack, the woodman, who eventually married Mary Swainson, when she was ready to tie the knot. Jack told Tom that he thought that Mrs Blackett, who lived at Beckfoot, was looking for a cook. She had been left a widow with two little lasses. Perhaps Mrs Blackett and I could be of some comfort to each other, both having lost our man. A word was put in for me and Mrs B, as I came to call her in my head, took me on.