Like all small children, I used to be fascinated by the semiforbidden contents of adults’ chests of drawers.
One particular discovery, which I remember most vividly, was that of a heavy silk shawl intricately embroidered with small flowers and wrapped in tissue paper. It was never taken out and used or even mentioned. So, as a child, I had the impression that I was the only person to be aware of its existence.
After my father, Vyvyan Holland, Oscar Wilde's son, died in 1967, I asked my mother about the shawl and she said rather vaguely that it had belonged to some girlfriend of his long before the war.
