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A LIFE MORE FULLY LIVED The reply I had been expecting arrived just before lunch one rainy Thursday in the form of a parcel that had to be signed for. It was large and quite heavy, and must have cost a fortune to send from Canada. Nervously, I tore open the jiffy bag to find a battered old box made from heavy-duty cardboard, foolscap size, and about two inches deep. Sellotaped to the front of the box was a short letter. 1242 McKenzie Drive New Eastborne Ontario 14 October 2017 "Dear Michael Grimes "Many thanks for your letter of 28 August informing me that you are writing a history of the family, and asking me for information about my father, Andrew Grimes. You say that your early research suggests that he is one of the more colourful members of our family, and that you are particularly anxious to have as much information as possible about his life and relationships after 1947, when his father cut him off from the rest of the family. "I am enclosing some papers that I found amongst my mother's possessions when I was clearing her house after her funeral which I hope will answer many of your questions. I have arranged the papers so far as possible in chronological order; I have also added some short notes of my own in an effort to fill in some of the gaps. "There are many definitions of the word 'colourful', and I leave it to you to judge whether my father fitted any of them. I think you will certainly find the papers interesting. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. "It is always refreshing to hear from the English branch of the family. I have rather lost touch with them since my parents' deaths. I last visited the UK for their respective funerals, and I travel little now. If you can find time to visit Canada in the next few years, it will give me great pleasure. Our family tree is a little convoluted, and I am not quite sure how to describe our relationship, although you tell me that my grandfather's brother was your great grandfather. Until we can sort out the terminology, I will sign myself as "Your loving aunt, "Pamela Grimes." ++++++ With some difficulty, I prised the lid from the box - it was close fitting and rather stiff - and looked at the contents. These consisted of a manila file about an inch thick containing a sheaf of papers held together by an India tag. I decided to skim through the papers quickly before lunch, and start seriously working on them the following day. (I had planned to visit the gym for a workout in the afternoon.) I started to read through them with increasing interest, carefully cross-checking the contents with the few facts I had gleaned about Andrew, and rereading some of them carefully. Some of the old handwriting was difficult to read and I needed extra light and a magnifying glass. As I became more and more absorbed by the material I lost track of time, and looked up in surprise at one point to discover that it was dark outside. I had been reading for close on twelve hours. This is what I found. LETTER FROM MRS FLORENCE GRIMES TO MRS EMILY GRIMES The Old Ship Hoy Heights Portsmouth 3 January 1949 "Dear Emily (if I may), "Thank you for your recent letter, advising me of your discovery about your husband, my son. You ask me if I am surprised by his behaviour. I am not. You also ask me if I can throw light on how the thing started and whether I have any advice to give. I shall do my best, although the story is not straightforward and I can tell you only part of it. "As you know, my husband is a naval officer. In the late twenties and early thirties, he was a Lieutenant Commander serving on frigates and destroyers which were, more often than not, stationed in the Mediterranean or the Far East. As a consequence, he was frequently away from home, which meant that I looked after Andrew more or less alone. "When the father is mostly away from home, it is often the case that a son forms a strong bond with his mother. So it was with Andrew and I. Indeed the bond was perhaps too strong. Things changed a little when the time came for Andrew to be sent away to school, but he hated school in those early years, and cried both when I dropped him off at the beginning of term and when I picked him up at the end. The school holidays came to be a haven for him. "It so happened that at about that time, my niece Andrea visited us quite a lot. Her father was also in the Royal Navy, and like us his home port was Portsmouth, so the two families lived close together. As well as having similar names, the two cousins were about the same age, the same size and build, and looked uncommonly alike, even down to their hairstyles (Andrew wore his hair rather long for a boy). It was a standing family joke that each could impersonate the other without any of us noticing. "Perhaps we teased them too hard. Would we have teased them less if we had known the fuse we were lighting? I don't know. At any rate, one day when Andrea was staying with us, she and Andrew swapped clothes without warning me. When they came downstairs to play, I was preoccupied with some household task or other, and did not notice for several minutes. In fact, they might have had to tell me themselves. "It was a great joke, and we laughed together heartily. But when I suggested to them that the time had come to change back, Andrea protested that she wanted to be Andrew for the rest of the day. Andrew didn't say anything, but he looked quite pleased, and eventually I relented and let them stay as they were until bed-time. "After that the clothes swap became a regular feature of Andrea's visits to us (and, I gather, of Andrew's visits to Andrea's home), which seemed to grow in frequency that summer. For a while it seemed a harmless enough pastime, and Andrew was very sweet in his Alice-in-Wonderland dress and his pinned-up hair. But later on, when Andrea's visits became less frequent (I can't remember why), I caught him once or twice trying on my own clothes which were, of course, not at all his size at that time. He cried when I caught him and promised not to do it again, but from time to time I found the unmistakable signs of my wardrobe having been tampered with or my underwear drawer having been raided. "Things came to a head one Easter when we were visited by relatives from Scotland. Uncle Robbie was a tyrant of a man, puritanical and bad- tempered. He believed that boys benefited from a good thrashing, and he frightened Andrew no end. His wife was no better. When Andrew heard the two of them were coming he cried: "Uncle beats boys," he said, "I hate him." I tried to comfort him, but he was inconsolable. And then he thought for a minute. "He wouldn't be so horrid if I were a girl." "I could almost see the thoughts crystallising in his head. "I could be Andrea for a day." "I sighed and explained precisely why this was not a good idea, but the more I argued, the more distressed he became, and the more determined he was to play the girl's part. In vain I tried to explain that Robbie and his wife would be expecting to see a boy. But he had an answer for everything. We could pretend he was out for the day. Andrea might be visiting us. All I had to do was to buy him a dress and do his hair, and everything would be fine. "I can't for the life of me understand now why I let him persuade me into that wild idea, but eventually worn out by his pleading I relented. The following day we ventured into town and, concealing my embarrassment, I bought a dress for him (simple, blue, with a small pussycat bow at the neck). "And if the shopping was nerve-wracking (what would I say if another Naval wife saw me?) the day itself was excruciating. I was constantly on tenterhooks lest Andrew give himself away by some careless phrase or gesture. But in fact, it was all right and we got through the day somehow. Robbie's wife Muriel said to me as they left that my niece was charming and pretty, although a little forward. And Andrew was cock-a- hoop at having negotiated the day successfully. "They loved me as a girl, mummy." "The only thing now was that he had a dress in his wardrobe, and inevitably he looked for other excuses to wear it. On trips to town, I found myself dragged into clothes shops and nagged to buy something new for him. And while he was sweet when he was dressed up, and I was putty in his hands when he implored me to be allowed to put one of his dresses on, and there was part of me that rather liked this game (as I thought of it) I cursed myself for allowing myself to be gulled by a nine-year-old. "You will ask why I couldn't nip all this in the bud. I asked myself the same question many times. As I say, there was part of me that rather revelled in the situation. I had always wanted a daughter, and the doctors had told me that I could have no more children after Andrew's difficult birth. My husband was perpetually away at sea, and mercifully at this stage, he never found out about Andrew's inclinations (or else he would have beaten him - and probably me too - mercilessly). "A year or two later, his father was promoted and returned to Portsmouth for three years, and Andrew, knowing exactly what would happen if his secret was revealed, stopped wearing dresses at home. But as you now know, this compulsion had developed a hold over him that it would never lose. I am afraid I cannot tell you in much detail what happened after he left home: you will have to ask others about that. I can give you some suggestions about whom to approach if it would help. "Meanwhile, you say that Andrew has now promised to stop wearing ladies' clothes in secret. Well perhaps, but I wouldn't count on it. You say that you still love him and want to make your marriage a success. I very much hope that you succeed, but you may find, I fear, that you have to be indulgent towards him. I wish you every success, and please ask for my help if you feel you need it. As you know, my husband has refused all contact with Andrew since 1947, and intercepts any letters he may write to me. I think that he has yet to recognise your handwriting, but he may see from the postmark that letters from you come from the town in which you and Andrew now live. I would suggest, therefore, that you send any future letters to Post Restante, Portsmouth. I will keep an eye out for further missives. With best wishes Florence Grimes" ++++++ LETTER FROM GEORGE THOMAS ESQ TO MRS EMILY GRIMES St Enoch's School Little Naseby-in- Arden Warwickshire 10 March 1949 "Dear Mrs Grimes "You asked about your husband Andrew's experiences at school, and in particular about his friendships and extra-curricular activities. I understand the reasons for your enquiry and will try to help as best I can. "I arrived at St.Enoch's straight from Oxford at about the same time as Andrew entered the school. Younger teachers often find it easier to form a rapport with boys, and a number of boys confided in me. Unlike older masters, therefore, I was often quite well informed about what was going on in the dormitories, and about friendships, conflicts, and tensions between boys. "Andrew was a highly intelligent boy with great academic talent. He was generally top of his class throughout his time at the school, and achieved a distinction in his School Certificate Exams. "He was not, however, a popular boy. He did not excel at games or sports. Rugby was compulsory at St Enoch's, and Andrew played at Fly Half, but his abilities were - to put it mildly - indifferent, and he was never selected for the School XV or his House Team. He failed to impress on the track, and did not achieve any great distinction in any other field of physical activity. As is often the case with such boys, he was teased mercilessly by his peers. "He did, however, throw himself into the cultural life of the school with enthusiasm. He frequently won the school Art Prize, he played the violin in the school orchestra, and he was interested in drama, acting in many school productions, where he excelled in female roles (which are, as you might expect, difficult to cast in a boys' school). "When Andrew became a senior boy, he shared a study-bedroom with a boy called Patrick Ryan. Senior boys generally share three or four to a room, unlike junior boys who occupy much larger dormitories. In this case, however, the third boy who had been allocated the room became ill with a chest problem, and had to miss a year. We do not normally like just two boys to share, but in this case there was no alternative. "As his name suggests Patrick's family was Irish. He was a well-built lad, captain of the Rugby XV, and quite unlike Andrew in most ways. But the two of them had already formed a bond, and Patrick had acted in some ways as Andrew's protector in the junior school. The friendship became a close one, and I was asked to keep an eye on it, since over-affectionate friendships can be a problem at boarding schools, as I am sure you know. "I was relieved to find no cause for concern, until an incident at the very end of Andrew's last year at the school. During a routine house inspection, I realised that Andrew and Patrick were alone in their study, and that the door was locked. I rattled at the door, and was eventually let in. Andrew was dressed in a sports singlet and shorts, which was unusual for him, although Patrick was fully dressed. For some reason I decided to search their room, and discovered hanging in a wardrobe a shortish, crepe dress in salmon pink. Andrew confessed that it was his, and tried to claim first, that he needed it for a forthcoming school production (but no production was planned that term), and then, when I questioned his story, that it had been packed by mistake by his mother, who when she had packed his and his sister's trunks at the beginning of term and mixed up some of their clothes (but I knew from Andrew's papers that he had no sister). The matron, to whom I showed the dress, asserted that there was every sign that it had been frequently - and recently - worn. "In the normal way, an incident of this sort could well have led to Andrew's expulsion, but as it took place in the final weeks of his last year at school, I decided to take no action. But his behaviour, and his attempts to conceal the reasons for it, did arouse in me suspicions of the sort you mention in your own letter. I am afraid, however, that the account I have just given is the only light I can throw on the matter. Yours etc. George Thomas" ++++++ Interleaved between this letter and the one below was a short note from Pamela Grimes explaining that after leaving St.Enoch's, Andrew had gone up to Oxford, where he spent a year, before joining the RAF in the autumn of 1940. He had trained as a bomber pilot and had flown a number of missions over Germany, before his aircraft was shot down in 1943. He spent the remainder of the War in a POW camp in Germany. LETTER FROM COLONEL TIMOTHY WARNER RA TO MRS EMILY GRIMES BFPO 5740 British Occupation Zone Germany 15 June 1949 Dear Mrs Grimes "Mrs Florence Grimes has passed me your letter asking for information about your husband's incarceration in Bavaria between 1943 and 1945. As you know, I got to know Mrs Grimes quite well after the war, when she approached me to thank me for safeguarding her son's interests in that difficult period. She has explained to me the reasons for your request, and asked me to reply to them as frankly as I can. Although your questions to me are pointed and direct, I will try to answer them. I am afraid you might not like the answers very much. "Your husband entered the camp, which was at an isolated location deep in the Bavarian forest, in the middle of 1943. It was a smallish camp in an old fortified house, containing no more than three dozen prisoners. Conditions were basic but reasonably comfortable. The regime was fairly relaxed, and relations between prisoners and guards were as good as might be expected given the circumstances. Few prisoners made trouble or tried to escape (the camp was several hundred miles from the nearest Allied territory) although one or two unsuccessfully attempted the journey to Switzerland. As senior British officer I discouraged such attempts, not least because they inevitably led to a security crackdown by the guards. "Despite the relatively benign regime, the claustrophobic all-male environment could create tensions. The atmosphere was like a more extreme version of that in a small public school. The lack of female company inevitably told. "Sometimes a pair of men would develop what I might call an "affectionate friendship". I do not think this usually involved more monstrous behaviour, but I neither knew nor wanted to know. The consequences of the disciplinary action that would be necessary if I had enquired too closely into these things would have completely disrupted the orderly management of the men. "In some cases, one or other of these couples would attempt to assume a female role on special occasions - what passed for parties in the camp, at film shows, and concerts. A young corporal who had been a tailor in civilian life was adept at improvising outfits by modifying uniforms and clothing from parcels sent by relatives. Given the limited resources available in the camp, few managed a really successful impersonation, but I suppose it was a way of defusing tension, and the men's attitude to it - even those men who did not take part in these subterfuges - was tolerant and good humoured. "Sqn Leader Grimes was an exception. He formed an attachment to an Army Captain called Davies, who acted as his escort and protector throughout the period until his release. Grimes and the tailor were able to improvise between them some quite striking outfits. Grimes was slim (I assume he still is), moved easily and "prettily", and had a clear complexion. He grew his hair quite long, and from somewhere he obtained a modest supply of female make-up and some shoes. There were rumours that he persuaded a German guard to smuggle items in from outside, but this seems unlikely to me, so his source of supply must remain a mystery. "Unlike most other men who played this game, Grimes was quite frequently seen with Davies wearing his female attire when there was no special occasion to do so. He had a number of admirers amongst the men, and I heard more than one say that he would make an attractive woman, even in civilian life. Grimes himself seemed to enjoy a sense of release from playing this part, and over time he became one of the more contented occupants of the camp. Davies played his own part as Grimes's escort impeccably, and his easy popularity enabled him to defuse any jealousies that arose from other potential "suitors". "I have no idea whether there was more to Grimes's and Davies's friendship than that. I did not enquire and I will not speculate. The situation seemed to give them both some comfort in difficult circumstances, and that is surely all there is to say. "You will hear people say that this sort of thing could not have happened, but it did, and (I know for a fact) not just in the camp where I found myself. It was the inevitable consequence of living in a boring, claustrophobic, all-male environment for an extended period of time. It was tolerated and to some extent encouraged as a means of defusing tensions. I am sure that these practices did not continue into peacetime after the men were released from their captivity. "I am afraid that is all I know. I am unable to give you any more information. Indeed, I have said so much only because you confirmed in your letter that - while your concerns were important and urgent - this was a delicate, private matter which would go no further. I would be most obliged if you would maintain that understanding and not divulge anything I have said in this letter to any other party. "Yours sincerely T.Warner (Col)." ++++++ LETTER FROM PROFESSOR SIMON DAWES, WARDEN OF ST RICHARD'S COLLEGE, OXFORD TO REAR ADMIRAL JONATHAN GRIMES St Richard's Oxford 15 June 1947 Dear Admiral Grimes "I am writing, with much regret, to confirm that your son Andrew has been sent down with immediate effect from the College, and that he will not be permitted to return next year. "It is tragic to have to take this action with such a talented student, but I have to inform you that his behaviour has been such that his continued presence here is completely out of the question. This decision is therefore final, and there can be no appeal against it. Your sincerely Simon Dawes" ++++++ Behind this letter was a waxed envelope containing two black and white photographs. The first was a figure wearing clad in a floor-length dress with quite a full skirt. I had obtained some photographs of Andrew Grimes from my earlier researches, and this was undoubtedly him. Andrew's dress was round-necked and sleeveless. The individual was wearing white opera gloves extending above the elbow, and had a string of pearls around his neck. Drop earrings with a heavy stone peeped out from below an elaborate hairstyle (a wig?). Andrew's face was decorated by dark lipstick, and the eyes were outlined with kohl or some similar substance. He was standing, lips slightly apart, staring confidently at the photographer. The second photograph was of Andrew wearing the same outfit with two others, both also dressed in elaborate ballgowns. The three had arranged themselves around a chaise longue. Andrew was sat on the floor at the lower end of the chaise, knees raised slightly, his right hand extended to hold the left hand of an undoubtedly beautiful man (I had to assume it was a man) who was lying down on his side supporting himself on his right elbow, resting his cheek on his hand. The third in the group was behind the chaise longue, leaning against the back, his right hand caressing the shoulder of the lying man. On the back of each photograph was written in pencil: "Society of the Daughters of Eon, May Ball, Oxford, 1947". I assumed that "Eon" was a reference to the Chevalier d'Eon, the French diplomat and spy, who lived as a woman for part of his life. ++++++ NOTE BY PAMELA GRIMES "There is no correspondence or other papers from a substantial period after my father's expulsion from university other than official documents. My parents' marriage certificate reveals, however, that their wedding took place in mid-1948. None of the witnesses are family members, and I gather that both of my parents were estranged from their respective families at the time. Andrew was cut off by his father following his expulsion, but the reasons for my mother's quarrel with her family are obscure. Perhaps it had something to do with her marriage to Andrew, who because of his expulsion cannot have been a popular choice of husband, but my parents never said. "After their marriage, my parents moved to Gloucestershire, where my father obtained a job as manager of a cinema in Lymebourne. This was not an arduous role for such a talented individual, and he subsequently obtained a further position, which he was able to combine with his job at the cinema, running the local theatre company. He also threw himself into amateur dramatics, as you will see later. My mother took a typing course and then worked as a secretary in a local bank. Neither of them received financial support from their families, and I gather that they were frequently in financial difficulties. "It will be clear from the earlier letters that the marriage must have gone through a bad patch in 1949, and it is not difficult to guess from the correspondence the reasons for that. But I assume that my mother recovered from the shock of discovery, and that relations between them were repaired, since I was born two years later, in 1951. "Certainly, during my childhood, there was no indication that the marriage was anything but a loving one. My earliest memories are of a loving father and a contented mother. They certainly seemed physically affectionate - as far as a child can tell these things - and our family life was to all appearances a normal one. The financial position must have improved because, when I was about five years old, they were able to buy a small town house and, later, a car. "At the time, I had no awareness of my mother's discovery of my father's inclinations that emerge from the earlier correspondence. But I do recall that my father took a very close interest matters to do with fashion. There were always copies of Vogue and Harper's lying around the house, and he always insisted in accompanying my mother when she went shopping for a new outfit. This was quite a frequent occurrence. In today's jargon they would be called shopoholics. As I got older, they would go away on shopping trips to London - leaving me to be looked after by a neighbour - returning laden with carriers and hatboxes. Unwrapping and hanging new items of clothing, hats, and shoes became a ritual which to me, even at that age, was obviously sensual. These trips stopped abruptly in the mid- 1960s, and it was my father's disappointment about this, which manifested itself in increasingly frequent nostalgic anecdotes about London shops and shopping, that first alerted me to the fact that his interest in fashion was unusual and extreme. "It was perhaps this that aroused my interest in a locked wardrobe that stood in the spare bedroom of the house. This was a bulky, old fashioned piece of furniture in dark, heavy wood. My father carried the key with him at all times, and avoided answering my questions about what it contained. "I suspect it is not possible to guard completely against the curiosity of a lively fifteen year old. At any rate one day I found the key unguarded on my mother's dressing table at a time when my parents were out. I think they had probably been unpacking some new trophy from a shopping trip, and my father had simply forgotten to pocket the key afterwards. "I crept furtively into the spare bedroom - even though my parents were out I was nervous about entering forbidden territory, and on tenterhooks lest they come back without warning - and with shaking fingers inserted the key into the lock. The door swung open, the hinges creaking. Hanging on the rail was an array of dresses, skirts, blouses and other items of women's clothing which, judging by the styles, which tended towards the flamboyant, were plainly not my mother's. On the floor of the wardrobe were several pairs of shoes and boots in my father's size, and there were drawers containing items of female underwear, some of it padded. "I slammed the wardrobe shut and retreated to the bedroom, where I sat on the floor hugging my knees to me, shaking. I think I might have cried a little. I had no idea what my discovery meant or what to do about it - only that, being hidden away, it was something not to be talked about. Confronting my father was impossible and for a while I kept my counsel. I think I became quite withdrawn for a few days: I remember my mother asking me more than once if I was all right. "I eventually plucked up courage to speak to my mother a few weeks later. The conversation was an enigmatic one. My mother talked about the clothes as if they were theatre props, and referred to the types of part my father played. I pointed out that these did not seem to be theatrical outfits. My mother said he sometimes "had to get in the mood for a part" at home. ""But don't you mind," I blurted out. "My mother looked at me sympathetically. "Your father and I have a very happy marriage," she said. "I love him very much for what he is." She paused a moment, thinking, and then said obscurely, "People say that clothes make the man, but it's not as simple as that." "And with that I had to be satisfied." ++++++ Attached to Pamela's note were three waxed envelopes. The first two contained Andrew's and Emily's marriage certificate. The second contained Pamela's birth certificate. A collection of newspaper cuttings occupied the third. A typical example is this: LYMEBOURNE CHRONICLE, 3 March 1958 "The Lymebourne players put on a highly successful performance of 'Weekend at High Crag Castle' on Saturday. This script for this comedy thriller is by local author P.W.Black, who has written several popular plays for our amateur troupe. "The story concerns a young family of three who are invited to Castle High Crag to discuss an inheritance. The inhabitants of the Castle turn out to be a collection of creepy characters, who appear as ghosts, ghouls, and vampire-like creatures. They contrive to find ways of frightening the family, and ultimately capture and threaten to torture the young son in an attempt to get the family to sign over the inheritance to them. There are various alarms and excursions until the child's cunning ensures the defeat of the plot and the release of the family. "The father is admirably played by Martin Porter, and young Matthew Green plays the son to great comic effect. But the star of the show is undoubtedly Lady Craggy, a dark, sinister character, who is played by popular local actor Mr Andrew Grimes. The ambiguity resulting from this inspired piece of casting is fully exploited in the script, and the young boy's defiance of her sinister threats, and his ultimate triumph over her (she ends the play bound in chains mouthing curses at the lad) forms the climax of the show." The clipping included a photograph captioned "Mr Grimes playing Lady Craggy" showing a slim female figure wearing a slinky, black, ankle-length dress with a hobble skirt, improbably high heels, and a long black wig. The face is pale but heavily made-up; the expression cruel and scornful. I was reminded by nothing more than Morticia in the Addams Family. There were several other theatre reviews in the envelope, including one or two for Christmas pantomimes in which Andrew invariably played the Dame. I noticed a reference to a performance of Aladdin, which referred to "an unusually glamourous Widow Twankey, played by Mr Grimes. This novel interpretation of the part proved highly successful, giving rise to interesting and highly thought-provoking variations on the double-meanings and allusions which generally form the backbone of the role." ++++++ LETTER FROM CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT F.J.TORPY, METROPOLITAN POLICE, TO MR ANDREW GRIMES Trant Street Police Station London W8 21 April 1964 "Dear Mr.Grimes "I write to you about your arrest at Buckles Hotel on 14 March. "My officers were called to the hotel following reports of a disturbance at ten o'clock in the evening. Buckles Hotel is a notorious haunt of homosexualists, and we were advised that three young lads had entered the hotel to engage in a bout of "queer bashing". My officers arrived promptly and detained the culprits, who were subsequently charged with affray. "In the light of the hotel's reputation, they also made enquiries amongst the customers and arrested three individuals for behaviour likely to outrage public decency, of whom you were one. "You were arrested wearing the following items of clothing: item, a black skirt, knee length, with lace trim; item, a cream silk women's blouse; item, a peacock blue jacket with Chinese collar, double-breasted, with brass buttons; item, a pair of patent leather court shoes with four-inch heel; various items of female underwear and hosiery. "Subsequent enquiries confirmed that the woman accompanying you was, as you insisted, your wife, and that you shared a bedroom at the hotel. The proprietor of the hotel reported that you were well-known to him, having stayed there on several previous occasions without incident. "Dressing as you did on that evening may be construed as behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace. On this occasion I have decided to caution you as to your future conduct. No further action will be taken against you at the current time, but details of your arrest will remain on file, and will be taken into account if you are arrested for a similar offence in the future, anywhere within the Metropolitan Police area. Yours faithfully F.J.Torpy (Ch Supt)." ++++++ LETTER FROM CELIA HEART TO MRS EMILY GRIMES Primp's Farm Oxblood Wiltshire 14 May 1964 "Dearest Emily "Thank you so much for your letter. It is quite unnecessary to thank us: we were overjoyed when you accepted our invitation to stay with us, following our unexpected meeting with you and Andrew in Winchester in February. It had been so long since I'd last seen you! I was so pleased to be able to renew our acquaintance and I was delighted when you wrote to us at the end of April to say that you would be visiting us. "It was a pity Andrew could not be with us, but it was lovely meeting your husband's twin sister. As you say the resemblance to your husband is uncanny - not merely in appearance but in voice and gesture. She is delightful company, although her sense of style puts us country bumpkins to shame. "Do come again, and bring Joy with you, and, if you want to, your husband as well. Perhaps we will introduce you to some of our neighbours. They are wonderful people who have welcomed us into their community since we bought the farm. Despite being Londoners, and therefore objects of great suspicion, I think they give us credit for making a go of the farm, which was rather run-down when we bought it. I don't think they can quite banish the fear that Jackie and I are plotting to found some sort of Sapphic community here, but really they are very understanding and sweet. Kisses Celia" ++++++ LETTER FROM MISS CELIA HEART TO MRS EMILY GRIMES Primp's Farm Oxblood Wiltshire 2 June 1964 "Dearest Emily "Thank you for your extraordinary letter. "I should have guessed! But one doesn't really expect that sort of thing, even in our (I mean Jackie's and my) fellowship. And he really was convincing. "You assure me that you are both very happy, and I take that at face value, although you have clearly had a difficult time recently. I should be fascinated to meet Andrew/Joy again, so you must both come down again and stay soon. In fact you must feel free to stay with us whenever you want. I shall have no fear about introducing Joy to the locals: if she can fool me she can fool anyone. "Let's set a date now for your next visit. We are free in the first week in July and we shall expect to see you here then. "Your best and most loyal friend Celia xx. Jackie sends her love to you both." ++++++ Attached to Miss Heart's letter was a wax envelope containing three colour photographs. The first was of two slim women standing outside what seems to be a stables in riding clothes. The caption, written on the back of the photograph in pencil, is: "Celia and Jackie, Primp's Farm, August 1967". The second photograph was evidently taken in a pub - a group of four people are standing in front of a bar with an open fire in the background. The caption reads: "Me, Joy, Celia, Jackie, King's Arms, Oxblood, December 1969". Joy is wearing a microscopic skirt, boots, and a leather jacket. She is smiling into the camera, holding a glass of what appears to be champagne in front of her. Celia has draped an arm around her waist. The third photograph, captioned "Oxblood summer fete, 1975", is a group photograph taken in front of bales of straw and a tractor. There are a dozen or so people in the picture. Celia is shown wielding a pitchfork pretending to try to shift the straw, three unidentified people next to her are applauding, and Joy and Emily are standing to one side. Joy is wearing riding boots, jodhpurs, and a voluminous cowl-necked sweater. A red-faced man in a tweed jacket and flat cap has his hand on Joy's shoulder and appears to be whispering something into her ear. A group of young men, possibly farmers judging by their dress, is standing behind them. ++++++ NOTE BY PAMELA GRIMES "I have little to add to these letters. My father's behaviour remained invisible to me during my childhood, even after my discovery of the contents of his wardrobe, and I married and moved to Canada with my husband - we'd met as students - shortly after leaving university in 1973. I exchanged letters and Christmas cards with my parents, and visited them occasionally in London. They came to Canada only once, shortly before my father retired. "I think he found it difficult to strike a rapport with my Canadian family. The men were all masculine, lumberjack-types who tried to take dad hunting. Apparently, he was floored by the recoil the first time he tried to fire the gun. The women (not me of course!) were homely and domestic and tried to interest my mum in cooking and sewing, neither of which were really her thing. They stayed a fortnight and I think they enjoyed themselves, but they never suggested repeating the visit. "So far as I can tell, my parents continued to live a reasonably contented life in Lymebourne, and maintained their contacts with Celia and Jackie until they died. I suspect if you contacted Celia there would be a fund of stories to tell, but I believe that they are no longer living at Primp's Farm, and I don't have a current address for them. But when my father retired, my parents decided that they were bored with their suburban lifestyle, and decided to try something else." +++++ Pamela's last sentence must refer to the final letter in the file. LETTER FROM MS.ANNE MILTON TO MRS PAMELA GRIMES 18 Watercress Drive Little Melling East Sussex 18 January 1998 "Dear Mrs Grimes "Thank you for your letter of 28 December. Yes, you are correct. We did indeed meet at Joy's cremation ceremony six years ago, and I continued to live next door to Emily until her death last month. "You asked for information to use in the eulogy you are preparing for Emily's funeral. "I do not know how much help I can be. Emily and Joy moved here in 1982. I believe that Joy had just retired. Emily's daughter (presumably you) had recently emigrated to Canada, and the two of them had decided to set up home together near the sea. I do not know why they chose Little Melling: they had no family or other connections here at the time. I believe their closest friends, whom they visited from time to time, lived in Wiltshire. They told me that they had become bored with Gloucestershire and "wished to find somewhere where they could be themselves". "They threw themselves into the life of the village with great enthusiasm. They were lively and energetic, and both women were attractive for their age and immensely stylish (especially Joy). They had legions of admirers - Captain Partridge, who lives in The Glebe, practically threw himself at Emily one Christmas and had to be physically restrained. I think Joy broke his spectacles. Emily and Joy resisted all male advances and I think they were, if you don't mind me saying so, intent in that sense only on each other. Or at least that's how it seemed to me. "Joy, you know, was an accomplished actor and more or less single-handedly revitalised the theatre company here. There is a wonderful photograph of her playing Lady Macbeth, which I'll try to dig out for you. Emily rode, was a leading light in the tennis club, and organised trips to London to see plays, concerts, and sports events (especially Wimbledon). I believe Emily and Joy used to go to London from time to time to visit nightclubs (imagine!), and to shop. Emily once claimed they were both "world class shoppers". "They were quite wealthy. Joy inherited money from her mother, who visited once after her husband died, shortly after Emily and Joy moved here. There is a story that Joy had been cut off by her father after some youthful indiscretion, but I don't know if that's true. I never saw any of Emily's relatives. Emily said they were an unpleasant lot by all accounts, and that if her mother had ever got round to making a will she would have left all her money to a cats' home. Well, the cats' loss was Emily's gain, which I think was some sort of rough justice, given the way her family had treated her. "I am really looking forward to meeting you. You can be assured of a warm welcome here, and you will find that Emily (and Joy when she was alive) had many friends in Little Melling. I think they were gloriously happy here. The whole village will miss Emily. "In anticipation of seeing you, Anne". ++++++ I found I was holding my breath. The story went beyond anything I had imagined; and it was rather a beautiful one. I really must find a way of tracking down Celia, assuming she was still alive. Moved by what I had discovered, I stood up and poured myself a drink. Lost in thought I wondered upstairs, opened my wardrobe, and looked at the clothes hanging from their hangers. A sequinned dress; boots; my long leather coat. I wondered, briefly, if tastes and habits were hereditary. I would go out tomorrow evening. In memory of Emily and Joy.