Richmal Crompton, and another bridge coat

Linden Rise by Richmal Crompton

published 1952

Also: Family Roundabout by Richmal Crompton

published 1948

I looked at Linden Rise in pursuit of a bridge-coat – another example to go with my collection in this recent post – and intended to skim it. It sounded cottage-y and twee, the lovely house in the country, the faithful twinkly-eyed servant, the family going in different directions. But it is much more than that, and I very much enjoyed reading it.

Richmal Crompton is famous for writing the William books for children, but also wrote an astonishing number of novels for adults. (When we were children we were very confused by her name, which didn’t – and still doesn’t – resemble anyone else’s. Mind you, we were equally confused by Enid Blyton’s name, which is much less obscure).

Linden Rise starts with a young woman of 15 arriving at the country cottage where she will be employed as a maid. The year is 1892: throughout the book Crompton lets us know the date via nicely placed discussions of current news items. However, it really isn’t clear to me where or if the First world War is going to emerge…

And it admirably doesn’t stop her from using these tipoffs to amuse: a new potential governess has mugged up on current events to impress her employer:

She drew in her breath and took the plunge. “What a magnificent spectacle the Queen’s dinner-party to the German Emperor last night at Osborne must have been!”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Culverton. “Now about our arrangements, Miss Maple . . .”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Culverton,” said Miss Maple, relieved that she needn’t go on to Mr. Gladstone or the gold coinage.

Tilly, the new maid, is a solid plain person: the children of the family call her Mrs Noah. She works hard, and watches what is going on, and it is quite clear that other characters divide into the nice (who like her) and the not-so-nice (who don’t).

She interferes in the life of the family when she feels it necessary. The moment, early on, when I realized that this book was going to be unexpected, comes when she is angry with the pompous older son, a priggish schoolboy who is (she considers) rude to her. He has almost completed an elaborate model of a galleon, so she knows how to get to him  - but she totally confounded my expectations with what she did.

Her interventions are infrequent, but get more dramatic as the story goes on.

She becomes very friendly with the second son, Richard, and he sits in the kitchen with her, helps with the cooking, and tells her stories from classical literature. This enables a splendid scene later:

“[Richard]’s sitting up in bed reading his old Plato.”

“How dull!” smiled Mrs. Culverton.

“Yes, madam,” said Tilly, placing the coffee-pot on the table and arranging the cups. “There’s no story in that old Plato same as there is in some of the others. Euripides, now, he’s different. He wrote some good stories, did Euripides. And Aeschylus, he did, too. He wrote one about a woman murdering her husband that’s as good as anything you’d find in the newspapers.”

But there isn’t any education or makeover for Tilly, or Prince Charming: she stays as she is, but finds her happiness in her solid way. The book gives real character and depth to the working-class people of the village, though in my view is not harsh enough about the way the servants were expected to live their lives.

Later on, there is a child with a very unfortunate nickname, wholly unacceptable now: many people would see this as censorship, but it seems to me that quietly changing this name would be easy, and would help – I would suggest ‘Nick’.

Crompton is sharp and unsentimental, and very good on the sadnesses of life – the children who aren’t loved quite enough by their parents, the couple whose married life has turned to dust. But the book is at the same time very funny and good fun.

I enjoyed also the many splendid clothes descriptions.

Tilly laid the dress on the bed and went downstairs. Althea spread out the folds with slow caressing touches. The dress was of white organdie, printed with pale blue flowers, trimmed at the hem with a small lace flounce and a ruching of pale blue ribbon. She took from a drawer a pair of white open-work silk stockings and laid them on the bed with the dress, then took a pair of white kid shoes from the wardrobe and put them on the floor by the bed.

 

And yes, there was a fleeting mention of a bridge coat. A respectable married woman has an exciting man coming to dinner. This is being discussed in the kitchen:

 

“She’s togged herself up no end for him, said Ivy a little wistfully. “She’s put on that new white chiffong an’ ’er white lace bridge coat.”

“Never mind bridge coats,” said Tilly. “Here’s the savoury. Take it in quick.”

 

I read somewhere that Family Roundabout (1948) was one of Crompton’s best books, so I read that one also:  a more traditional saga, two families in a small town, two widowed matriarchs with five children each. The book follows the characters over 20 years from 1920 to 1939, and it was readable, but more of a slog. The two widows are set up as completely different characters – Mrs Willoughby bossy and controlling, Mrs Fowler passive and happy to let her children make their own choices. I will say that this did not turn out as black-and-white as you’d predict.

No bridge coats in the book, though a very good save-the-day/clothes panics/makeover situation. A neglected young girl has no dress that fits for a party that day. She goes over to her grandmother’s, wearing a coat over her petticoat, and asks her what to do.  This is the ‘passive’ lady, Mrs Fowler, and she makes a conscious decision to channel the ‘bossy’ one: She sweeps into action and takes her off to a shop:

Gillian chose a frock of peach-coloured taffeta with a blue ribbon belt…. Recklessly [Mrs F] bought new shoes and socks, a new petticoat with lace insertion and a pair of lace-trimmed drawers. ‘Oh, Gran!’ gasped Gillian in ecstasy.

‘And a hair-cut, please,’ ended Mrs Fowler, saying to herself, I ought to have thought of that first, Mrs Willoughby would have…

The scene makes overt that there is not a good-bad dichotomy between the women: later one of them says words to the effect of ‘she should have been more like me, I should have been more like her’.

I found a terrific review of Family Roundabout over at the always excellent Captive Reader blog, which I highly recommend. It gives a great picture of the book, much more detail than I have, and Claire was like me: not wholly enthusiastic. But Claire comes out very strongly in favour of bossy Mrs Willoughby, and I very much enjoyed her spirited defence. As a huge generalization, people who write long-running books blogs will mostly be in the Mrs Fowler camp – Mrs F’s favourite thing is to sit in a comfortable chair in the afternoon and read books. But Clare is #Team Willoughby: how refreshing.

 

The Embroiderer by August Macke

White dress, Barbier

Picture of Fanny Brice, LOC again.

Lillian Gish from Wikimedia Commons.

Tea party in the garden: fashion plate from La Gazette de Bon Ton, 1913, Wikimedia Commons.