Southend U3A

From riches to rags - Mavis Sipple

February 2012

Tom flipped over the pages of the in flight magazine and there it was, Farringdon Hall. His mind went back to the day when he had first seen the Hall - 1940. He had climbed onto the train, luggage label tied to his lapel, gas mask slung over his shoulder and a battered suitcase in his hand. The journey was exciting, he had never been on a train; soon the drab houses gave way to green fields, trees, cows and sheep. The telegraph poles rushed by, the wheels sang, 'Where are we going, where are we going.'

It seemed hours until the train stopped and all the children scrambled out onto the platform. They waited patiently, confused, upset, bewildered, listening for their name to be called out. Tom was one of the last to be called, a tall man in a blue uniform took him by the hand and led him outside to a waiting car. This was Tom's first ride in a car, despite feeling tired and confused he couldn't help feeling a bit excited. He stared in amazement as the car came to a stop in front of the biggest house Tom had ever seen. He could just make out the name plate by the door, Farringdon Hall.

A boy and a girl of about his own age ran out to meet him, followed by their Mother, who hugged Tom and led him inside. He dropped his few belongings in the hall. 'I'm Toby and this is Isabel,' the boy told him, 'come on we'll show you your room, we're in the east wing. This is your room, and that's your bathroom, I'm in here and Issy's next door, now come on you must be starving.'

Toby led him into the huge kitchen, for buttered toast and honey and a jug of lemonade. The next three years were the happiest of Tom's life. Despite the magnificent house, and the considerable wealth, the children each had to earn their pocket money by feeding the chickens and ducks, letting them out in the morning, securing them at night and collecting the eggs; helping with the horses, collecting vegetables and picking fruit. They all attended the local school where Tom proved to be far above average at all the lessons. In their spare time they played tennis, swam in the lake, fished in the river, and rode the horses around the estate. Tom soon learned how to speak well, how to hold a knife and fork properly, and how to behave in company. Many wealthy and important people came to the house. The children were expected to keep out of the way unless summoned. When the grounds were used for village fetes and fund raising for the war effort, Tom and Toby helped with putting up the marquees, Issy helped with the catering, every one pitched in with the clearing up at the end. There was always something exciting to do, so much going on.

Then came the letter, Tom's mother was coming to take him home. He was devastated, he knew it would happen sooner or later but he dreaded it. After tearful goodbyes, Tom and his mother boarded the train for London. The trees dashed by, the train wheels chanted, 'I don't want to go, I don't want to go.' By tonight Tom would be back in the world of the outside loo with the newspaper squares hanging on a nail, a weekly bath in front of the fire, the beatings from his drunken father, the shared bedroom, and drab grey streets lettered with bombed out buildings.