Milly was nervous about the change of train at Southampton. It was a much bigger station than Brockenhurst, and she had to change platforms to catch the onward connection, but with the help of a porter, she managed brilliantly, and a couple of hours later she found Dixon waiting outside Worthing station with the car. After a twenty-minute drive, the car pulled off the road to begin the approach towards Muntham Court.
With a contented sigh, Milly sat back and relaxed. The sweeping drive had lost none of its beauty. To the south she passed thick woodland and the metal railings on the opposite side, which divided the arable farmland from the fields where sheep grazed. The kitchen gardens were to the east of the house and separated from the driveway by a wall. In the distance, Milly could see glimpses of the South Downs. An avenue of mature lime trees provided the formal entrance at the front of the house, and of course the magnificent pond with its dolphins and cherubs added to the perfect setting. How she loved this beautiful house. Despite her issues with her mother, it still held many wonderful memories. Milly might have been tired after her long journey, but she was happy.
As Dixon opened the car door for her, Milly became aware for the first time just how grey he had become. It struck her that he’d lived with them as a servant for the whole of her life, and yet she knew nothing about his personal life. Bodkin the gardener had retired a few years ago, and a Mr Greene from the village of Patching had taken over. Mrs Cunningham still worked in the kitchen but, in 1932, Martha had married her sweetheart and moved to Lancing. She had been replaced by a new girl called Elsie.
‘Here we are then, miss,’ Dixon said pleasantly.
‘Thank you, Dixon.’ Milly felt her cheeks heating up as a wave of embarrassment engulfed her. How could she have lived cheek-by-jowl with these people all these years and yet know absolutely nothing about their private lives? She had it in mind to ask him something personal, but the thought was snatched away as the front door flew open and her father hurried down the steps.
‘Milly!’ he cried, sweeping her into his arms. ‘Welcome, welcome home, my dear.’
Chapter 10
September 1937
It had been decided that Milly and her father would walk together to the fairground next to the sheep fair in Findon at noon on Saturday. It wasn’t that far, and with careful timing they could avoid the thousands of sheep coming off the Downs into the village along the Horsham Road.
‘I have a little business to attend to first thing in the morning,’ Charles told her, ‘but I should be finished long before then.’
Milly dressed carefully. Her cherry red dress was plain with a pencil skirt. There were red and white stripes on the cuff of her short sleeves which matched the belt. The dress was high at the neck, with an asymmetrical red and white striped collar in the shape of a deep ‘V’. To complement the outfit, she wore white court shoes and carried a matching clutch bag and gloves.
By twelve-thirty her father still wasn’t back, so Milly decided to go on her own. She knew he wouldn’t like her being unchaperoned, but what could possibly happen in broad daylight? Besides, as soon as she found Lena, she’d be safe enough with her.
It was a perfect autumn day and the sheep fair itself on Nepcote Green was heaving. Since early morning, some 20,000 sheep had been penned in by wattle fences on the ground, while the buyers, some in long white coats and carrying a shepherd’s crook or a walking stick with a hook on the end, wandered around to inspect them before the auctioneer arrived to conduct a sale. The whole area was a sea of bowler hats, homburg hats, flat caps and the odd fedora.
Farmers and shepherds had gathered at this time of year in Findon since the mid-eighteenth century. Back then, the large flocks had been walked across the Downs, but now things were more up-to-date. The sheep were taken to Steyning railway station, and from there transported to Findon by lorry.
The fairground was on an adjacent field, and if Milly thought the sheep fair was crowded, it was as nothing compared to the fairground. That was packed out, and felt both bewildering and exciting. There were plenty of rides and amusements, ranging from a carousel and helter-skelter, to a bumpy gangway and a tumble bug. The sideshows included a coconut shy, the greasy pole and a boxing ring, where members of the public could climb in the ring to challenge the man who had once beaten John Michael Basham before he became the British and European welter- and middleweight champion.
When she saw the crowds, Milly’s heart sank. It was going to take an age to find Lena in this lot. She wandered around for ages but couldn’t see her.
‘You lost something, darlin’?’ A man in a flat cap with terrible teeth leered at her. ‘’Ere, let me ’elp you.’
‘No thank you,’ Milly said primly as she tried to move away.
When she felt his hand on her bottom, she let out a startled squeal and pushed him away. To avoid any further contact, she headed for the other end of the field, but there was still no sign of Lena. It was only when she got there that she remembered something her sister had once told her. We always put our pitch near the gate. That way the punters spend their money with us first.
She’d have to go back. Milly cautiously retraced her steps when suddenly the same man stepped out of the beer tent and stood in front of her again. ‘Fancy a little roll in the field, darlin’?’
Milly had no idea what a roll in the field was, but she certainly didn’t want one. By now he had a tight grip on her arm and this time she couldn’t break free.
Milly did her best not to panic. ‘Let go of me!’
‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he said, pulling her closer, his beery breath making her gag. ‘You’ll love it.’
She became aware of someone else. Another man had pushed his way between them. He wasn’t very tall and he was holding a paintbrush in his hand. ‘Leave the lady alone,’ he said coldly. ‘She don’t want it, see?’
‘Sez who?’ the drunk replied.
‘Says Seebold Flowers,’ said the newcomer.
The drunk laughed in his face. ‘Well, my little flower,’ he sneered, ‘you can sling your ’ook. You don’t scare me. Look at yer. You’re ’ardly even a man. You’re still wet behind yer ears.’
Now that he’d said that, Milly could see that her rescuer was not that much older than she was but, although he was only about five foot five or six, he was solidly built. However, as the drunk towered over them both, she shivered. It looked as if they were both in trouble.
A couple of other men had come out of the beer tent and wandered over to join them. ‘What’s up, mate?’ said a man with a beer glass in his hand.
‘This little runt is spoiling fer a fight,’ said the drunk. ‘Trying to stop me and my gal from being togeffer.’
Seebold Flowers laid his paintbrush on the top of a paint pot next to one of the rides.
‘I am not your girl,’ Milly said indignantly. ‘I don’t even know you.’
‘Then let me hin-tro-duce meself,’ said the drunk, leaning towards her, his lips puckered.
Milly shrieked and kicked his shin. As the drunk stumbled, he accidentally bumped the other man’s beer glass, spilling the dark liquid onto the grass. Furious, the drinker turned to attack.
At the same time, she heard the other much younger man saying, ‘Listen, mate. Don’t waste your punches. There’s a ring over yonder. For two bob, you can try your luck with the gloves on. Get through a round and you win ten bob, get through three rounds and they’ll give you five quid.’
The drunk wobbled. The other man turned towards the direction of Seebold’s pointing finger.
‘Five quid?’
‘Yep. Five quid.’
Milly forgotten, the two men appeared to be interested. Relieved, Milly turned to go, but then she heard a vaguely familiar voice calling her name. With the men distracted, the younger man took her arm and hustled her towards the hoopla stall. For a second or two, it felt as if she’d fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire, but then she heard Lena’s voice.
‘Milly. What happened – are you all right?’
