Eve: The Dramatic True Story of a beautiful English woman

By David W Roberts

This is the true story of Eve, an English woman, who lived during the turbulent years of the twentieth century. Born into a working-class family, Eve determined early in life to do whatever was necessary to lift herself out of her working-class origins by marrying well and above her station. Blessed with good looks and a vivacious personality, s

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sid Harta Publishers
• Release date: May 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645462456

David W Roberts

David Roberts migrated as a qualified teacher from the United Kingdom. After seventeen years working as a teacher, deputy principal and principal in country New South Wales, he became a university academic. University appointments and consultancies enabled David to travel widely and broaden his horizons. Now retired, he lives with his wife in Adelaide. This is the author's fourth book. Earlier books include One Thing Leads to Another, Easytimes and Graham's Story.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Bilsborough, February 1911

Mrs Annie Beatrice Chadwick was the only one in the family to hear the ringing of the ‘wake-up’ bell from across the way. Unsurprisingly, having given birth to three children in five years, she was acutely attuned to any sounds that demanded her attention, both in and out of the house. During the night it was usually one of the children calling out, but early in the morning, six days a week, it was the ‘wake-up’ bell clanging imperiously from nearby Bilsborough Hall Farm that penetrated her sleep.

It had been a bitterly cold night but eerily quiet. The children had slept peacefully throughout and her husband’s snoring had been pleasantly muted. Now she dug him in the ribs with her elbow hard enough to produce a muffled groan followed by an incoherent grumble.

‘Gotta get up love, bell’s gone.’

George Brady Chadwick, head of the household, stuck his whiskered visage cautiously out from under the blankets and squinted reluctantly at his wife who was already out of bed and placed a grey woollen shawl around her shoulders. Padding over to the window, Annie pulled back the thin curtains to peer outside at the insipid pre-dawn gloom.

‘Snowed last night George, backyards covered. Rug up well.’

Clambering out of his snug bed, George reflected on the one advantage of being a farm labourer in wintertime: the days were blessedly short. Daylight was insufficient for any outside work until around eight in the morning and by four in the afternoon it was virtually dark again. An eight-hour working day was all his boss could expect at this time of year. Today the ‘wake-up’ bell had woken the Bilsborough Hall farm labourers, scattered about the neighbourhood at seven in the morning, and they were expected to report for duty punctually by eight.

George was barely thirteen when first employed at Bilsborough Hall Farm and over fifteen years had become one of their most trusted, reliable and knowledgeable labourers. So much so, that when he and Annie married in February 1905, he was offered one of the four flats available in Holland Villas especially erected in 1900 for selected married labourers working at Bilsborough Hall farm. Their two-storey apartment consisted of four rooms: a kitchen and living room downstairs and two good-sized bedrooms above. The toilet was in the backyard. George and Annie and their two children, Annie Isabel (known as Bell) and Mary Evelyn (known as Eve, but pronounced ‘Evee’) slept together in the larger bedroom and the other bedroom was occupied by Annie’s sister-in-law, Alice Houghton, and her nine-year-old son, William.

Holland Villas, Bilsborough, Eve’s birthplace in 1908. (Photo taken by the author in 2012)

George dressed hurriedly, trotted downstairs, and with some difficulty shoved open the backdoor that led out to the toilet. The heavy snow overnight had drifted up against the back wall of Holland Villas and covered the ground to a depth of six inches to a foot. An icy blast of a northerly wind smacked him in the face as he shivered his way down to the small wooden building in the backyard. It was going to be a brute of a day!

Returning to the relative warmth of the kitchen, George was pleased to see Alice had risen earlier, stoked the fire and was already well into making the porridge. Annie squatted close to the fire holding the three-pronged toaster with a hefty chunk of rye bread attached. A slab of creamy butter together with a large pot of thick honey waited expectantly on the kitchen table.

‘Won’t be long, love. Better go wake the children. There’s school today. Bring Eve down here, I’ve got her clothes warming.’

George headed back up the stairs to wake William first with a firm warning to put on his warmest gear. Bell and Eve, who shared a single bed, were predictably, not happy about leaving their snug nest. Bell was five and had started school only two months earlier. It was William’s special responsibility each school day to safely escort Bell to John Cross School located in the village less than half a mile away. There was only one teacher at John Cross and on a good weather day about sixty children attended. Today, being bitterly cold and snowy, the numbers would be well down. Children who had to walk two or three miles or more to school, or rode their ponies in from the many small farms scattered about the district, would have difficulties making the journey.

After breakfast, on hearing the ‘ten-minute bell’ clanging across the snow-covered landscape, George reluctantly exited via the front door. He was soon joined by the three other farm labourers who resided at Holland Villas and together they trudged along Bilsborough Lane towards the farm. It was snowing heavily again and large goose-feathered flakes floated and fell steadily around them. George was always intrigued at how heavy snow, like a thick fog, dampened all sound. From above, the four men looked like dark blobs moving slowly and silently to their destination through a plane of whiteness. The gate leading into the farmyard at Bilsborough Hall was a mere four hundred yards from Holland Villas, normally a five-minute walk, but twice that time was needed today as they negotiated drifts and high-stepped their way through the deepening snow.

John Cross School, Bilsborough, Eve’s first school. (Photo taken by the author in 2012)

The four labourers were pleased to assemble at the blacksmith’s forge where, for a short time, they could enjoy the warmth from the fiery coals. The stern-faced farm manager awaited them there, puffing quietly on his pipe. There were twelve farm labourers on the manager’s books, but it was soon apparent that only ten had fronted up that day. Arriving late meant a day without pay, unless you could convince the manager of mitigating circumstances. Heavy snow had never been deemed an acceptable excuse for absence from work in the fifteen years George had laboured at Bilsborough Hall.

The likelihood of the snow lasting all day had necessitated a revision of the day’s tasks. Two men were assigned to mucking out the stables, and the two most recent additions to the workforce were to clear the snow drifts from the paths and main tracks surrounding the buildings and to do whatever they could to rescue plants in the kitchen gardens groaning under the weight of the snow. The manager took pity on the two oldest workers, now in their fifties, and assigned them special duties indoors. George and the remaining three labourers were sent out into the fields to continue work on the construction of a drystone wall that would eventually encircle a new piggery planned for spring. George, as the most experienced of the four, was placed in charge.

An hour after George had left for work, nine-year-old William Houghton took hold of Bell’s bare hand as they emerged from Holland Villas and headed for John Cross School. The snowstorm had eased and visibility had improved. A few villagers had already tramped along the lane towards the village so the children were able to use their footprints to make the walking a little easier, especially for Bell, who at times seemed to almost disappear in the snowdrifts.

Both children were coping surprisingly well at school, despite the extraordinarily difficult educational circumstances. With the best will in the world, one woman teaching up to sixty children between the ages of five and twelve is an almost impossible task. Understandably, Miss Bolton ruled with an iron hand and poor behaviour resulted in the frequent use of the cane. The twelve-year-old children acted as assistant teachers and worked with small groups of the younger children. Amazingly, most of the school’s graduates left with rudimentary reading and writing skills, and a few even qualified to go to the Grammar School in Preston.

Annie and her sister-in-law Alice dressed and fed little Eve and settled her down with the set of small peg dolls bedecked in clothes sewn by Alice, who perchance, was a dressmaker by trade. With big sister Bell away at school, Eve had quickly learnt this meant she could enjoy the peg dolls undisturbed, for as long as she wanted.

The daily grind of domestic chores soon pervaded the house. Alice unpacked the Singer treadle sewing machine and resumed her work on the wedding dress she was fashioning for the second daughter of the manager up at the farm. It was to be a springtime wedding in early May, and Alice had promised to have the dress ready for a first fitting by the end of March. The work was progressing well.

Annie was preparing rabbit stew for the night’s dinner. The night before, when George arrived home, he had come armed with a decent sized rabbit he’d heard squealing in one of his traps out the back. Breaking the rabbit’s neck before bringing it indoors, George had proudly slapped the animal down on the kitchen table with a thud and announced, ‘dinner tomorrow night.’ Annie had already skinned the rabbit and assessed it as being a rather ancient specimen requiring a long, slow cook in the pot. She wouldn’t have to go out in the weather for vegetables as she had turnips, potatoes, onions and swedes safely stored indoors. She had no red wine to add to the stew but an assortment of her own dried herbs would add some richness to the flavour.

* * *

On the drystone wall, the men were working in pairs. Two were scouring the fields hunting for suitably sized stones. It was a thankless task, especially with the ground snow-covered. Every five minutes one of them would come struggling over to George at the wall face with their latest find and drop it clumsily nearby. George was the acknowledged expert in the precise placement of the stones to deliver both a durable and aesthetically pleasing result. Nobody else was given this responsibility, although George was now training James, the man who lived next door to him in Holland Villas.

George had for some years been fascinated by stone structures of all kinds. Stone was used everywhere: in the construction of houses, bridges over canals, bridges along railway lines and roads, in cemeteries and even as paving stones. His creative work with drystone walls had further developed this interest and he enjoyed a heightened sense of satisfaction from slotting the right stone into the right place and later standing back to admire his handiwork. George took great care to select the best large base rocks and paid close attention to the neat finishing of the slanted rocks across the top of his structures. He dreamt of one day earning his ticket to become a properly qualified stone mason.

It was not just the patterning of the stones that appealed to George, there were other attributes of the building material as well. Although he had not been fortunate to travel widely, he realised there were many different kinds of rock and stone, each with its distinctive qualities. Dark basalts were cold and hard to the touch, whereas the lighter sandstones he used in his walls were softer with a greater range of colours. He also loved the grainy feel of the sandstones and siltstones. Then there were the flaky shales and slates that had totally different qualities again.

Dry stone wall building afforded George time to daydream and think of a brighter future for his family. Life as a farm labourer was tough. He was exposed to the elements all year round and was constantly undertaking heavy physical work. His wages were meagre and a proportion of his weekly wage always had to be returned as rental for his lodgings at Holland Villas. He did not want to suffer the maladies of the older men he met about the place who had remained labourers their entire working lives. These men were riddled with arthritis and rheumatism, chilblains and backaches, hacking coughs and, more often than not, had suffered a debilitating accident at some time.

More important than George’s future, however, was that of his children. He and Annie had been blessed with two gorgeous, bright girls who might one day wish to seek a life away from the rural parts and live amongst the bright lights of the towns and cities. To give them this opportunity two things had to happen: the family must move into town and the girls must benefit from a grammar school education. George and Annie were also acutely aware that if their girls were to enjoy a better life, they must marry well and that meant marrying above their station.

Annie and George had often spoken together about the future. They were not unhappy as such, but both were ambitious for their offspring. Whereas in the past, if you were born a farm labourer you accepted your lot in life and remained a farm labourer. Some parents dared to think differently nowadays. Undoubtedly, the key to a brighter future for their girls was education. If Bell and Eve could make it to a grammar school at the age of twelve, a whole new world might open up for them.

George and Annie were also realists. They knew how grammar school education systems worked. Each year grammar schools accepted new students into first year who had been successful in the entrance examinations. Places were competitive and highly sought after, with the majority of children never making the grade. Bell and Eve would have hardly had a promising start to their education attending the one-teacher, over-crowded John Cross village school in Bilsborough!

Annie and George were a determined couple, however, and had already decided there were two positive steps they could take to help their daughters with their education. The first was to devote time in the evenings to assist with their reading, writing and arithmetic. Annie, in particular, had done well at school and was smart, so she was sure she could tutor the girls for several years and maybe up to the time they were ready to sit for their grammar school examinations. Annie declared ‘practice makes perfect,’was to be the family motto, and they already had chalk and slate boards in readiness together with a few old books to help with reading.

The second part of the plan was far more ambitious. Each week George and Annie put aside a small sum of money which they were saving in order to hire a tutor when the girls were in the last two years of schooling at John Cross. George conscientiously put aside a tenth of his weekly wages and Annie grew bountiful vegetables in the backyard which she sold at Thursday afternoon’s market in Bilsborough. Occasionally, when the hens or ducks were being particularly cooperative, Annie added some of their eggs to the market produce as well.

The two sisters, Bell and Eve, got along well enough. As soon as Eve appeared on the scene, Bell assumed the role of the ‘senior’ sister and never quite let Eve forget it. Bell became the responsible, older sister, serious but caring, well-behaved and polite. Eve, on the other hand, soon developed into a rather different personality. Most of the time she tolerated Bell’s slightly bossy attitude towards her, but nevertheless, was quick to rebel if she felt her older sister was going too far. Eve was the cute, pretty one with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She was more adventurous in spirit, vivacious and possessing a great sense of fun.

During the afternoon it stopped snowing, the icy wind moderated and visibility improved significantly. Glimpses of a weak sun brightened the day and the mood of the workers on the dry wall lifted. For the first time the men began to thaw out. A cheeky robin red breast flitted and twitched about around their wall and the crows in the stand of pine trees nearby began to argue. Way above them all, a sparrow hawk hovered in search of a tasty morsel. The wall had been progressing; slowly but surely.

Not all George’s thoughts were about the future, however; at times he became despondent when he recalled a tragedy that had befallen Annie and himself nigh on a year ago. Annie had fallen pregnant a third time, not many months after Eve was born. They had managed to bring two beautiful girls into the world but George, like most men, yearned for a son. It was only natural for a father to long for at least one male offspring.

They had named their first-born Annie Isabel, after her mother, and when a boy came along, he would be called George, after his father. The happy event was in February, a normal birth according to the elderly and experienced midwife. The arrival of little George was a great thrill for the young family and George Senior was said to have grown a foot taller overnight. Now that Annie and George had one of both genders, they intended to stop having any more children so they could give their three young ones the best education and upbringing they possibly could.

Things did not go quite to plan, however. There was a massive storm one night in March: the wind howled mercilessly, trees that had stood a hundred years or more were uprooted and some roofs in the village were damaged. The terrified girls climbed into bed with their parents leaving a much-reduced space for Annie who was downstairs nursing five-week-old baby George. The family stayed together until the storm blew itself out in the early hours of the morning and then returned to their beds. Annie fed and burped George and put him down. He looked sweet and contented.

When she went to him in the morning, he was dead.

George and Annie were not a superstitious couple, but many in the village nodded knowingly. Clearly, they said, it was the devil who had visited them during that horrendous storm!

CHAPTER TWO

Bilsborough 1911-1915

The tragic loss of George Junior was a hard blow for the Chadwick family to bear. The wee baby was perfectly healthy and happy when Annie placed him back in his crib shortly after the storm had passed, and yet, scarcely five hours later, he was cruelly taken from them. Two days later, George was laid to rest in the churchyard of the Anglican Church of Saint Lawrence in the nearby village of Barton. Hundreds of villagers made the journey by foot, horse or cart.

It was not unheard of for seemingly healthy babies to die suddenly in their sleep. Kindly Doctor Stevens, who confirmed the death and signed the death certificate, did his best to console the grieving family but could offer no explanation as to why apparently healthy babies occasionally died unexpectedly overnight. Medical science knew of the phenomenon, he assured them, but Doctor Stevens regretted that, as yet, science had no answers.

Saint Lawrence Anglican Church, Barton, where Eve was christened. (Photo taken by the author in 2012)

Early in 1912, twelve months after the loss of George, Annie fell pregnant again. She had carefully put away George’s few belongings in a drawer hoping that she might be able to use them again. Naturally, there was much speculation about the village as to the gender of the child-to-be. Annie was sensible enough to tell everyone she would be more than happy whether it was a boy or a girl, as long as it was healthy, but secretly, and for George’s sake, she longed for a boy. More than anything, she wanted to present her husband with a beautiful bonnie lad. There was no doubt which way the father was leaning: a boy was essential to continue the male family line. Bell and Eve both sensed that a brother was what was needed to better balance the family, but to be honest they just wanted a baby to fuss over and play with.

The pregnancy was normal again and the same dependable midwife officiated. There were huge celebrations about the village when it was announced that it was another healthy boy. George and Annie hadn’t dared to discuss possible names before the happy event, and even now, they were in two minds. Annie wanted the child to be named George again to honour her loving husband but George Senior was unsure. At the back of his mind, a fear lurked that it might be unlucky to name another child George. The traumatic loss of their first George, only a year ago, still haunted him.

Annie’s wishes prevailed, however, and George was the name selected. The new George, like his siblings, was baptised at Saint Lawrence’s Anglican Church in Barton.

Throughout 1912 to 1914 George Senior laboured on at the Bilsborough Hall farm. It took another four months to finish the drystone wall project in readiness for the piggery. George was enormously proud of his achievement and was now recognised around the village and its environs as ‘the expert’. His boss was so pleased with the final result that he awarded George a small increase in his wages. Even the pigs appreciated their splendid enclosure!

Annie and George never wavered in their ambitious plans for their children. Now that they had three extra mouths to feed, they worked even harder to put away ten percent of their earnings for the children’s future education. George’s excellent reputation as a dry stone waller resulted in him being offered a lucrative contract on the property adjoining Bilsborough Hall farm. He was employed there to construct a wall around the kitchen garden that the new owners had planned. During the long summer days, when he could work until ten o’clock in the evening, George would finish his normal day job, go home for a hot meal and then set off again to work on the kitchen garden wall. The long days were exhausting but the extra income made it worthwhile.

Behind their home at Holland Villas, Annie had steadily extended her vegetable garden. They were blessed with excellent soil to which they added any horse droppings from along the lane. Annie kept an old shovel at the ready and would check every morning to see if any horses had obliged. Two of the farmers along their lane now owned automobiles and the talk in the village was that soon cars would take over, and horses as a mode of transport, would disappear. Annie though, still used the services of old Norman, who lived down their lane with his horse and cart, to take her produce into Bilsborough’s market on Thursday afternoons. In return, she let Norman take what vegetables he wanted for the week. Norman, his cart, and the horse were all ancient and rickety and Annie expected one of the three to expire at any time. While Norman kept coming past Annie’s house on Thursdays her market sales steadily increased and she too was able to save more money for the children’s future education.

The three young Chadwick children got along well most of the time. They had their fights occasionally, like any family group, however, it soon became apparent that all three had inherited their parents’ resilience and determination to achieve. At times these energies were not easy to control but George and Annie were thankful that some of their own ambitious ideas and work ethic had rubbed off on their offspring. The children were bright, motivated and competitive, all excellent qualities needed for success in later life. The two girls doted over their young brother and were pleasingly protective of him.

In 1913, when Eve turned five, she joined her big sister attending John Cross School in the village. Eve was way ahead of most of the other pupils that started their education that year because she had benefited from the homework that her mother had been conscientiously doing with Bell over the last three years. The hour or so that Annie had devoted to Bell’s studies almost every night was certainly paying off. Bell was perhaps the best reader and speller in her year and already knew her times tables inside out. Simple addition and subtraction were a breeze for her and she was moving on to multiplication sums.

Little Eve had been longing to go to school for a long time and often would sit next to her big sister when she was doing her homework. By some process of osmosis Eve had learnt how to read, a skill that highly intelligent children, given adequate opportunities, will acquire naturally.

When the two girls arrived at school mid-July for the start of the new school year, they were surprised to discover that the elderly teacher who had reigned supreme there for the last fifteen years had suddenly, and without warning, retired, and had been replaced by a much younger lady. The new teacher was more energetic and had different ways of teaching too. The pupils responded well to Miss Taylor and the attendance improved. Singing was introduced and Physical Training (called PT) was conducted twice a week. Most of the parents welcomed Miss Taylor’s innovations, although some of the old timers in the village snorted derisively at the introduction of ‘silly’ subjects like singing and PT.

Both girls thrived under Miss Taylor’s tutelage so that in the evenings Annie had two highly motivated children eager to learn as much as she could give them. Annie had only stayed at school herself until she was twelve but she had been a gifted scholar and had made the most of her short education. Passing on her limited knowledge was a joy for her but she knew Bell, in another year or so, would need someone better qualified. If Bell was to make it to high school in Preston, the nearest big town, she would need to be challenged with work that was beyond what Annie could provide.

* * *

Britain declared war on Germany on August 4th, 1914 and the ‘war to end all wars’ commenced. Volunteers throughout the British Empire answered the call to arms and enlisted. George was deemed to be undertaking work of national importance helping to supply the nation with vital food supplies so was not required to sign up. Many believed the war would be over by Christmas anyway.

Over the years George had developed a trusted, friendly, but respectful relationship, with the farm manager at Bilsborough Hall Farm. Mr James had always been supportive of George and his young family and occasionally went out of his way to do something special to assist. It might be a few spare vegetables from his kitchen garden, a basket of Cox’s Pippins from the orchard or the loan of a particular tool. If there was serious illness in the Chadwick household, Mr James paid for the local doctor to call, and he had been known to even help cover the cost of any prescribed medicines.

Sometimes, after work during the long summer evenings, Mr James would invite George to stay back and share an ale. They would sit outside somewhere and enjoy each other’s company. As a result of these informal conversations, the manager became increasingly aware of George and Annie’s ambitions for their children and came to realise that at some point in time George would most likely resign and depart for Preston where far greater educational opportunities were available. He certainly didn’t want to lose the services of George who was almost his longest-serving and perhaps most effective hard-working labourer.

Mr James was a confirmed bachelor nudging sixty and occupied the extensive old farm house on the property, together with Daisy Ashton, the elderly housekeeper. Daisy was beginning to find the house’s upkeep too demanding for her arthritic limbs and had gradually retreated more and more to the kitchen where she concentrated her remaining energies on providing rather too much food for Mr James both in quantity and richness. Consequently, the farm manager had grown seriously rotund in recent years and waddled rather than walked about the property.

Mr James, ever conscious of his station, always dressed as a gentleman farmer replete with tweeds, waistcoat and plus fours. He insisted his footwear be thoroughly cleaned by Daisy each evening. A shooting stick, pipe and tobacco pouch were his constant companions wherever he travelled. The twelve permanent labourers liked their boss — they regarded him as fair and considerate.

Many years spent out of doors had left Mr James with a well wrinkled ruddy face and a mop of hair that resembled an untidy thatch, which he endeavoured to restrain, with only partial success, beneath his ancient cap. His responsibilities outdoors were only supervisory so that his fingers were red and sausage-like, and certainly not the digits of a labourer. Sociably inclined, he spent much of the working day hobnobbing with his employees, although it must be said, he knew what was happening about the place and what needed doing on the property. Mr James ‘knew’ farming.

One evening, late in the summer of 1915, Mr James and George were enjoying a warm beer in the kitchen