gas-bag-powered Calcott car: all the rage in fuel-conscious wartime London
But halfway through Euan’s leave Barbie reappeared.
She was brought to tea by Avie. Euan immediately set up the gramophone and they all “danced till nearly 7.” The next evening, when a crowd of friends gathered at Connaught Place to go to a party at the Tagg’s Island Hotel, in the middle of the Thames at Molesey, Euan handed over the keys to his Rolls and he and Idina climbed into the cozy Calcott. Barbie climbed in with them.
And Barbie vanished again. For the next four days, his last in London, Euan didn’t mention Barbie. He and Idina threw another dance for fifty, “kept up till nearly 4,” and went out in small groups, great groups, and by themselves. They decided to move the boys out of London away from the air raids and rent a house for them, their nanny, and nursery maids, an hour and a half west of London in the tiny Buckinghamshire village of Sandhill.
As Euan left for France, Idina asked her sister to move in properly, treat the place as her own, ask her friends round. Whether she extended the invitation out of loneliness now that the children had gone or in a miscalculated attempt to keep her potential enemies in sight, it would turn out to be an unwise move.
IT WAS JANUARY 1918 before Idina had a chance to see Euan again. For him the three months in between had been long, cold, and miserable, punctuated by an influenza that had been making its way aroundthe army. Throughout October and November his regiment was moved, on horseback and in buses, in and out of the trenches. By the time they were relieved from the trenches in mid-December, the lorries were not able to drive the troops home: “the snow in places up to our waists and mules’ bellies,” he wrote. And they had had to walk. Eventually back at base, he had “sat up till 10.45, talking about the war, and cursing the people in high places.”
A couple of days before Christmas 1917, Euan received a wire promoting him to the post of Brigade Staff Captain. This was a post for which he had been lobbying for some time, since as a member of the General Staff he would stay away from the front line. It was not, however, the glorious job he had been hoping for. He joined the General Staff on Christmas Eve and the next afternoon found himself alone and lonely in the Orderly Room, “going through old files and taking over.” He had an early dinner, wrote a letter, and went to bed at 10:30 p.m.: “It snowed again in the afternoon and was a very cold night.” It was also Christmas Day, but Euan doesn’t mention it. As New Year approached, the snow deepened and the temperature dropped still further. Euan’s new workload—much of it either financial or the unhappy task of summarizing prosecution evidence for courts-martial—“three 1st LG are being tried for sleeping on sentry”—now stretched into the evenings. He had little time for long mess dinners and, in any case, none of his old colleagues with whom to make them jolly. When, in the third week of January, Idina cabled him suggesting that they meet in Paris in ten days’ time, he applied for leave on the spot.
Two days before Euan was due to set off for the Ritz to meet her, Idina cabled him again to say that she was too ill to travel. It was not like Idina to be ill. She may have been small in stature but she was physically tough. Euan waited three long weeks but, to his surprise, Idina didn’t make a quick recovery. She had had a cough that had turned to bronchitis and now stubbornly sat on her chest. Instead of going to Paris, she had to go to Brighton to gasp the sea air and have her chest pummeled for an hour a day to prevent it turning fatally pneumonic.
In mid-February Euan gave up waiting for his wife to recover and decided to go to Paris with one of his unmarried fellow officers. The two of them took rooms at the Ritz, breakfasted in bed, had their hair washed and nails done by M. Combes, did a bit
But halfway through Euan’s leave Barbie reappeared.
She was brought to tea by Avie. Euan immediately set up the gramophone and they all “danced till nearly 7.” The next evening, when a crowd of friends gathered at Connaught Place to go to a party at the Tagg’s Island Hotel, in the middle of the Thames at Molesey, Euan handed over the keys to his Rolls and he and Idina climbed into the cozy Calcott. Barbie climbed in with them.
And Barbie vanished again. For the next four days, his last in London, Euan didn’t mention Barbie. He and Idina threw another dance for fifty, “kept up till nearly 4,” and went out in small groups, great groups, and by themselves. They decided to move the boys out of London away from the air raids and rent a house for them, their nanny, and nursery maids, an hour and a half west of London in the tiny Buckinghamshire village of Sandhill.
As Euan left for France, Idina asked her sister to move in properly, treat the place as her own, ask her friends round. Whether she extended the invitation out of loneliness now that the children had gone or in a miscalculated attempt to keep her potential enemies in sight, it would turn out to be an unwise move.
IT WAS JANUARY 1918 before Idina had a chance to see Euan again. For him the three months in between had been long, cold, and miserable, punctuated by an influenza that had been making its way aroundthe army. Throughout October and November his regiment was moved, on horseback and in buses, in and out of the trenches. By the time they were relieved from the trenches in mid-December, the lorries were not able to drive the troops home: “the snow in places up to our waists and mules’ bellies,” he wrote. And they had had to walk. Eventually back at base, he had “sat up till 10.45, talking about the war, and cursing the people in high places.”
A couple of days before Christmas 1917, Euan received a wire promoting him to the post of Brigade Staff Captain. This was a post for which he had been lobbying for some time, since as a member of the General Staff he would stay away from the front line. It was not, however, the glorious job he had been hoping for. He joined the General Staff on Christmas Eve and the next afternoon found himself alone and lonely in the Orderly Room, “going through old files and taking over.” He had an early dinner, wrote a letter, and went to bed at 10:30 p.m.: “It snowed again in the afternoon and was a very cold night.” It was also Christmas Day, but Euan doesn’t mention it. As New Year approached, the snow deepened and the temperature dropped still further. Euan’s new workload—much of it either financial or the unhappy task of summarizing prosecution evidence for courts-martial—“three 1st LG are being tried for sleeping on sentry”—now stretched into the evenings. He had little time for long mess dinners and, in any case, none of his old colleagues with whom to make them jolly. When, in the third week of January, Idina cabled him suggesting that they meet in Paris in ten days’ time, he applied for leave on the spot.
Two days before Euan was due to set off for the Ritz to meet her, Idina cabled him again to say that she was too ill to travel. It was not like Idina to be ill. She may have been small in stature but she was physically tough. Euan waited three long weeks but, to his surprise, Idina didn’t make a quick recovery. She had had a cough that had turned to bronchitis and now stubbornly sat on her chest. Instead of going to Paris, she had to go to Brighton to gasp the sea air and have her chest pummeled for an hour a day to prevent it turning fatally pneumonic.
In mid-February Euan gave up waiting for his wife to recover and decided to go to Paris with one of his unmarried fellow officers. The two of them took rooms at the Ritz, breakfasted in bed, had their hair washed and nails done by M. Combes, did a bit
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