The Duchess's son2: Leggings@60+com

During that short time in the Duchess's home I was well treated and I tried to play with the girls, who would soon get bored with sitting still and run as colourful as butterflies across the lawn. During the hot weather, she would set out a collection of assorted sizes of tables and we'd be given a seat on an appropriate size. We were a happy noisy lot.

Like many of the homes I'd been put in, it was not as homes are today. Back then we were all poor, and even if you were better off and known for it, you had little in the way of furniture and carpeting. I was taken to Sunday School each week, and I had a short time with the Priest at home each time he called. I think I knew them before...
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After I left their home I was taken away to Malta for three years and when we came back I was thrown into the last year of the infant section of Scalby Primary, which I remembered from before, and didn't like. They expected me to play with pencils and not to read...
The teacher complained to the Headteacher about moving me up a few classes, and he said No, because he believed finishing the infants was an important milestone. At the Royal Navy School, in Malta, I'd had a rich environment in which I was taught.

more later on...................................

Back home in Scarborough, the L's took a semi-detached house on Scalby Road, which awasn't really big enough for us all. The Navy offered Dad a much bigger house a little further and on the opposite side of the road, so that he could do a lot more entertaining.
He took me to see the property, it had a huge holly hedge around the front garden space. The house was quite imposing. It had character and a stable block or two around the back.
I said innocently, "I like the Holly hedge."
Dad replied coldly, "If you knew the meaning of it, you wouldn't like it at all."
I asked, "What is the meaning?" I was skipping to keep up.
He said vaguely, "I hate it when children are called Holly too, it's not to do with Christmas."
We went inside and were met by the estate agent. She let us wander the house alone.
Behind us, she made a call, "Come around in about ten minutes."
He left me behind when he went to check the upstairs and the outside buildings.
"You're too slow to keep up," he said.

When he was out of the way another couple of people arrived, they were talking to the estate agent carefully, I sat listening.
"Does he really want it?" one said, "Only it's the best property for a children's home around here. Has lots of space."
I knew it was too good to be for us.
Dad came back around the front and went to consider the front room again. It was huge and I followed him in.
"Sir," I said, he preferred me to call him Sir, because I think he hated the lie, "Sir, those other folk want to make a children's home out of it."
I could imagine how nasty to all of us people would be if it came out that he had gazzumped a children's home. We already had some difficulties, Mum couldn't get on with everyone, because they said they knew what was going on behind closed doors. The Duchess and her family were still remote. It was even said that she believed Dad had stolen me from my crib, and had coloured my hair on purpose.

He ruffled my dark curls and said to the agent, "I'll have to think on it."
She replied ruffled, "We have another offer on the table."
He nodded, and shuffled his feet, "It has to go before the navy, it would take time."
On the way home, he told me, "They've me offered me a Piper too!" His voice was dry.
"A Piper?" I asked astonished, "Do they think we have battlements?"
"I've said No," he replied quietly, "Mostly because it's the one instrument I can't do with!"
"I like them," I said and skipped ahead.

Some time later after Sunday School at the Baptists church, (Albermarle Crescent), I'd come home with a new task in mind, how to prove that everlasting life was available to practising Christians. I'd holed up inside the garage and was talking to the neighbour's child, a dour little boy, about it.
"When you die," I said to him, "Will you promise to come back and talk to me about it?"
"Pardon," he said, "No, I don't believe in all that."
"I'll promise if I die first to talk to you. I'll come back honest."

There was a roar of laughter from outside the garage, it was Jimmy.
Jimmy kneeled down by the crack in the door. "I promise I'll come back and talk to you when I'm dead." he said, "Better me than someone who don't want too!"
"Okay," I agreed, it was very reassuring that he wanted too, "I promise too!"
"You have to spit-shake," said the neighbour's boy.
"I think we'll miss that out," said Jimmy and he walked away.

I slowly unlocked the garage, and found him gone. He waved, as I stood in the middle of the front garden amongst the Queen Elizabeth Roses. He was with a mix of youths, mostly mods.
"Don't forget the promise," he called as he climbed on a scooter.
"Why do you bother with that kid?" asked his mates.
"Dunno," said Jimmy, "She kind of thinks the way I do..."

He keeps his word, does Jimmy.