Читать книгу The Other Side of the Coin: The Queen, the Dresser and the Wardrobe - Angela Kelly - Страница 19

MY LIFE

A couple of months after I had accepted Peggy’s invitation to interview for the position of Assistant Dresser, I found myself en route to Buckingham Palace to meet with Lady Susan Hussey and the Honourable Miss Mary Morrison, two of The Queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting. As with any interview, I had spent quite a lot of time thinking about what to wear. I was certain this interview was for these two ladies to look me over and check me out, and that everyone in the Palace would be an intimidating, impeccably dressed aristocrat. When I first received the letter inviting me to Buckingham Palace for the interview I went into panic mode. Those famous words of ‘what on earth will I wear?’ came to mind – I already had lovely clothes, but I thought that a more conservative outfit was needed. So I made the rather rash decision to sell my washing machine so that I could afford an appropriately smart outfit. I chose a crisp cream blouse with navy spots and a long skirt, and wore a string of pearls. Normally I wear dresses to my knees, but for the interview I thought a long skirt would be more appropriate. I did struggle to walk and I looked like a good take on Miss Marple, with my skirt wrapped around my legs. I arrived at the Privy Purse Door, which is the main entrance at the front of Buckingham Palace, at 11.30am and was welcomed in. Trembling with nerves, I was taken to the Ladies-in-Waiting sitting room.

As I waited, I couldn’t help but reflect on how I had ended up there: a divorced single mother from humble beginnings in Liverpool was on her way to interview for a position working with Her Majesty The Queen.

When I think about my early childhood, most of my memories seem to be anchored in and around the back room of our house. I was born in a small street in Liverpool, facing Stanley Park, between two famous football grounds: Everton and Liverpool. We lived in a two-up-two-down terraced house, and it was a very happy home. My mother sewed and my father was in the Merchant Navy.

The back room of our house was a hive of activity; a place for chatting, listening to the radio, eating, and, crucially, it was also frequently transformed into a sewing room. My mother, Teresa, was a very smart, elegant, and glamorous lady, although I remember her blushing and shying away from compliments. She was not shy when it came to the sewing machine, though, and she had a raw talent and natural flair for clothes design. I’m sure her skills were recognised by my maternal grandmother, who taught her the art of dressmaking when she was still very young. When she grew up, my mum joined the army’s Auxiliary Territorial Service. Funnily enough, then as the Princess Elizabeth, The Queen also joined the Auxiliary Territorial Service in 1945, and was the first female member of the Royal Family to join the Armed Services as a full-time active member. My mum worked with the Service until she fell in love with my father, Thomas, and left to marry him. They had two sons, my brothers Tommy and Tony, before I came along, then another two sons, John and Terry, and a second daughter, my sister Donna Maria. With so many young children to care for, my dad left the Merchant Navy and took up a job as a crane driver on the Liverpool docks so that he could be closer to home.

Clockwise: My first Holy Communion, age 7; my mum, Teresa, in the Auxillary Territorial Service; me and my dad at home in Liverpool.

My father was good-looking, quiet, and a gentleman. He was caring, loved, and respected by his family and all who knew him. When we were little, he was always tricking us. Perhaps he would shout, ‘Would you like a Quality Street?’ And we’d all come running, yelling, ‘Yes!’ And he would be standing in front of the television, and a Quality Street advert would be on, and he’d say, ‘Ah, you missed it.’ But every Friday, when he collected his wages, he’d go to the shop to buy the Liverpool Echo and a Mars Bar each for everyone.

We did not have much in the way of material possessions when we were growing up, but the house was filled with love, laughter, and kindness, and my mum insisted that our family take pride in everything we did. She was excellent at teaching by example and took meticulous care of every piece of clothing she created, which included my school uniform skirt and grey bib. She was endlessly generous with her time, and whenever the back room was not being used to entertain visitors, it became a fitting room, as well as a sewing room, for all those who came to her for new outfits. From wedding and bridesmaids’ dresses – beautifully crisp gowns, perfectly cut and adorned with little rosebuds – to school uniforms to help out the children in the neighbourhood, nothing was too challenging, and I vividly remember watching her work on that well-oiled Singer sewing machine. In fact, aged eight, maintaining that precious machine was my first task as an assistant dressmaker. I learned how to strip it down before cleaning it thoroughly and oiling certain components that were likely to stick. I would also check the rubber belt religiously, making sure it was not wearing out, and grease the treadle to make sure it moved up and down easily. When I had mastered all of this, I was finally shown how to load the shuttle, place it in the machine, and thread the needle.

Having perfected that important task, I was soon being shown how to cross-stitch for embroidering napkins, how to sew hems by hand and make elasticated waists – all crucial skills that still come in handy today. My mum was a thrifty woman (which I know Her Majesty would appreciate) and showed me how to make carpet rugs from old coats. We would cut the coats into strips, then double them and use an old peg to push the strips through the rug’s hessian backing to form a loop. However, it was when my mum was measuring her customers that I would pay close attention. I was fascinated to see how accurately she used her tape measure, which I still have to this day, and how confidently she cut and joined her patterns.

Not only did my mum have an extraordinary talent for dressmaking, she was generous when family and neighbours were in difficulty, especially when someone had passed away. I remember her visiting other people’s houses, and helping make their front room look beautiful for the family to mourn their loved one. She would take several white sheets with her and quickly get to work; I would watch her pleat the sheets and use small nails to keep them in place on the walls to make the room into a sort of chapel of rest into which the coffin would be brought. I also recall watching my mother lay out the body when a family member passed away. She was so gentle and caring, and it seemed such a natural thing to do, and it helped to ease the pain of the family and other mourners.

I wanted to be just like her, so it’s not surprising that my first paid job was in a sewing factory at the age of fifteen, working on the buttonhole machine. A few years later, when I got married and had children, I would make outfits for my family, but it was only when I started working with Her Majesty that I truly understood how indebted I am to the influence, knowledge, and guidance of my mum in those humble beginnings.

Me and Nettie at Windsor Castle before Royal Ascot in 2000.

Nettie

I value so many people in my life, whether they be close or acquaintances. Nevertheless, they are important to me. Throughout my time of twenty-five years working for the Royal Household, Annette Wilkin, also known as Nettie, was my true friend from day one when I first started at Windsor Castle.

Nettie was The Queen’s Housekeeper of Windsor Castle for over forty years. During Nettie’s time as Housekeeper, The Queen gifted her with a corgi pup called Larch, who became Nettie’s most loyal companion. After she retired as Housekeeper, Nettie came to work on the Dressers’ Floor the very next day. For the last five years of her life, Nettie worked for The Queen archiving and photographing The Queen Mother’s wardrobe.

I wish my friend was here today so that she could share with me the ending of this book. Sadly, Nettie passed away in May 2019. I was with her throughout her illness as well as being a support to her loving brother, Andre, who was always there for her.

It was an honour to care for Nettie during this difficult time, although she still had her wicked sense of humour about her. Even when she was first rushed into hospital, her humour was there. I was with Nettie when the nursing sister was asking for her name. Annette was having a hard time breathing, so I answered the question by saying, ‘Annette Wilkin’. It took all that Nettie had to say, ‘No! It’s Gwendoline Annette Wilkin.’ I almost fell out of the chair. I was shocked! For twenty-five years I had been calling her Annette or Nettie. So, Nettie had the last laugh.

When Nettie passed away I felt as though my mother was with me, keeping me calm and focused, as I helped prepare Annette’s body to be laid out. I gave her a big hug and kiss. I’ll never forget my best buddy. I miss you my friend.

Nettie and her corgi, Larch.