Revelations at Queen Anne’s Gate

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Tonight, however we are not in Lettice’s flat. Instead, we have followed Lettice south-east, past the Royal Academy*, across Picadilly, through the neighbouring borough of St James’ with its private clubs and gentlemen’s tailors, over St James’ Park and Birdcage Walk where once the Royal Menagerie and aviaries of King James I and King Charles II had stood, to Queen Anne’s Gate** in Westminster, lined with fine early Eighteenth Century townhouses. It is here that Member of Parliament for the constituency of Towers Hamlets***, Mr. Charles Hatchett, and his wife Dolly have established their London base after extensive structural works to make it habitable after many years of neglect under its former owner, a decrepit old Admiral of Queen Victoria’s navy. Lettice was commissioned by Mrs. Hatchett to redecorate some of the principal rooms of the newly renovated and restored townhouse, and this evening, the Hatchetts have invited Lettice for celebratory drinks and canapés to thank her for all her hard work.

 

Lettice pays the driver of the blue London taxi through the glass divider between the driver’s compartment and the passenger carriage before pressing down on the shining chrome handle and stepping out onto the pavement, the flash of a white silk stocking clad leg and one of Gerald’s beautiful evening frocks embroidered with strings of glittering pink glass beads poking out from underneath her luxurious full length white fox fur coat**** as she moves from a seated to a standing position. With a glittering beaded headdress sparkling on her head and fine magenta dyed velvet pumps, she cuts a fashionable figure. The heels of her pumps click in the cool evening as she walks a few paces along the footpath before up with admiration at the simple, elegant façade of the red and rich brown brick building before her, set with rigid rows of twelve, nine and six pane Georgian windows. Lettice smiles up at the benign face of Queen Anne, as the former ruler peers out through a mixture of flowers, draped festoons, oak leaves and acorns that surround her on the ornately carved canopy** over the main door of the residence. Painted in white to match the window frames of the house, the wood of the canopy takes on a ghostly appearance in the evening light. Unlike her first visit to the townhouse, there are no muffled sounds of distant hammering emanating from within, and all is serene and quiet in the terrace lined street where Austins and Worsleys are parked awaiting their owners. Walking up the two Portland stone steps to the front door Lettice wraps her white kid leather evening glove hand around the brass bell pull sticking out of the red brick to the left of the door. From within the house the sound of the bell rings. As she waits on the stoop, Lettice can almost imagine she can hear the familiar sound of a pair of shuffling footsteps, indecipherable muttering and that known fruity cough, as Lettice remembers Mrs. Boothby answering the door the first time she visited, much to her astonishment. Lettice still wonders whether her Cockney charwoman******, who is not unknown from being a little sly, eavesdropped to know that Lettice was going to decorate for the Hatchett’s and secured herself a job as a cleaner for them when they were first clearing the house.

 

“Oh, good evening, Miss Chetwynd,” the maid who answers the door to Lettice says brightly in her slightly sing-song accent and elongated East Anglian vowels. “How lovely to see you again.” She beams happily. “Please come in.”

 

“Good evening Jennie.” Lettice replies as she steps across the threshold into the warmly it entrance hall, acknowledging the maid whom Lettice first met five years ago when she decorated ‘The Gables’: sprawling Arts and Crafts style home of Mr. and Mrs. Hatchett in Rotherfield and Mark Cross******* in Sussex.

 

“Madam is expecting you in the upstairs drawing room” Jennie says as she helps Lettice out of her coat, revealing the ravishing pale pink spangled bead evening frock she is wearing.

 

Lettice follows Jennie betheath the carved dividing screen of two burnished mahogany columns with a delicate glass lunette******** of seven panes of clear glass splaying out from a central semi-circle above, and ascends the sweeping balustraded Georgian staircase upstairs. As they traverse the long corridor, once dark and dingy but now ablaze with electric illumination, Lettice is pleased to see that even though she did not decide the décor of the passage, that her prevailing simplistic Art Deco style has been carried through it, with panels of geometrically patterned papers designed by Jeffrey and Company********* breaking up the mahogany panelled walls, and elegant and modern light fixtures suspended above their heads.

 

Jennie wraps smartly on the restored mahogany double doors leading to the first-floor drawing room before throwing them open. “Miss Chetwynd, Madam.” she announces proudly.

 

And then Lettice steps into her latest interior design masterpiece. Gone is the grime and darkness, along with the pervasive smell of damp that seemed to cling to your every pore. In its place is a room that is clean and gleams with modernity. The walls are hung with pale dove grey papers featuring a stylised geometric Art Deco pattern, created specifically for Lettice by Jeffrey and Company to her own designs, inspired by what she saw on her visit to the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes********** in Paris in 1925. The mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookshelves flanking the white marble fireplace – the only original furnishings – are filled with a selection of titles Lettice would call ‘light shipboard reading’***********, owing to the fact that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Hatchett are great readers. Supplied by book dealer friend Mr. Mayhew of Charring Cross Road************, the books which suggest a level of intelligence and varied interests are indispersed with interesting and pretty objects to lighten the space. A thick Persian rug covers the polished parquetry floor, and soft furnishings in the latest Art Deco style are accessorised with choice pieces of Eighteenth Century chinoiserie************* furnishings. The gleaming white marble fireplace, once yellow, brown and black with fire and pipe smoke, is flanked by two large Dragonware************** jugs in black and blue with fine white tracings, standing atop two Art Deco stands, provided by her antiques and curios friend, Lancelot de Vries. And presiding over it all from her gilded frame over the fireplace, Mrs. Hatchett herself in a beautiful and most arresting portrait.

 

“Well Lettuce Leaf,” a familiar voice comes from behind an opened copy of the Daily Mirror.

 

“Gerald!” Lettice gasps in surprise, to startled to admonish him for using her most hated childhood pet name, as she sees him sitting in an armchair where he lowers the newspaper and smiles up at her. “I wasn’t expecting you!”

 

“Well, it was a last-minute idea that Dolly threw up at me at the last minute.” Gerald explains, putting the paper aside, getting up and walking over to Lettice. “She feels that it’s tradition, darling.” he continues as he embraces her.

 

“Tradition, Gerald darling?” Lettice queries.

 

“Yes.” Gerald replies. “At least that’s how she sees it, since we were both present at the little soirée she held following your redecoration of ‘The Gables’ back in 1921.”

 

“Good heavens!” Lettice exclaims. “Do you know, I had quite forgotten about that, Gerald darling!”

 

“I’m shocked!” Gerald replies in mock horror, making an exaggerated face of horror and throwing his hands up melodramatically. “You don’t remember every moment you’ve been with me at social occasions? Good god!”

 

Lettice’s blue eyes narrow and her well manicured eyebrows arch as she replies cheekily, “Getting acting lessons off your new thespian friends?” referring to the theatrical and rather melodramatic homosexual men who all board with his friend Harriet Milford in her large house in Putney, along with Gerlad’s lover, West End oboist Cyril.

 

“Cheeky Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald wags an admonishing finger at her. “And here I was, about to pay you the nicest compliment.”

 

“Well, you still can, Mr. Buttons.” Lettice retorts, using the nickname given him by Lettice’s former client, Lady Gladys Caxton: a name which Gerald despises as much as she abhors the nickname Lettice leaf.”

 

“Touché, my dear.” Gerald holds up his hands in acquiescence. He sighs before going on, “I was going to say that this room oozes your restrained good taste, as usual.” He waves his hand about in understated, laconic gesticulation.

 

“Thank you, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies with a contented sigh. “This was a very large job, and I’m pleased to say I think it a job well done.”

 

“I’m sure, with the Hatchetts being as prominent as they are at the moment, ascending to the heavens of politics, I have no doubt that this will elevate your services amongst the political elite.”

 

“Thank you, dear Gerald.” Lettice purrs. “At least I didn’t have to convince Mrs. Hatchett not to have chintz upholstery this time.”

 

“Thank goodness for that!” Gerald opines with a curt nod.

 

“And where are our hosts?” Lettice asks, looking around the room, which is empty save for themselves. “Jennie said that I was expected.”

 

“Call it another Hatchett tradition, Lettice my dear. Remember that they were late to dinner the night we did spend in Rotherfield and Mark Cross?” Gerald looks over at his friend, standing in a gown of pale pink satin decorated with glass bugle beads – one of his own creations. He looks down and runs his evening pump distractedly over the luxurious Persian carpet on the floor.

 

“I had quite forgotten that too, Gerald darling.”

 

“Dolly is seldom on time for her fittings, which is the bane of Edna’s life, since she runs to time like the Great Western Railway***************.”

 

“Poor Edna.” Lettice giggles girlishly. “I know how important her schedules are to her.”

 

“Champagne?” Gerald asks, changing the subject as he foists a bottle of Deutz champagne from its bed of ice in a silver cooler, also provided to Lettice after her visit to Lancelot de Vries curio shop**************** in Notting Hill.

 

“Oh Gerald darling!” Lettice exclaims, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “We mustn’t, without our hosts being here. You know it’s rude!” she admonishes.

 

“So too are they for being late. Don’t be such a stickler for the rules, Lettuce Leaf. I say we crack it open.” He starts to unwrap the foil from about the neck and opening of the bottle.

 

“Don’t call me that, Gerald!” Lettice finally quips peevishly. “We aren’t three any more, and you know I loathe it.”

 

“Then don’t be such a stickler for social niceties, and join me.”

 

He pops the cork, making both he and Lettice gasp as it flies forward, ricocheting off the bricks at the back of the fireplace and landing in the flames of the crackling fire.

 

“Gosh! That was a whizzer, wasn’t it?” he trills with delight as he pours bubbling champagne into the first of four champagne glasses sitting alongside the silver cooler on the tray.

 

“Rather!” Lettice laughs, accepting the glass from Gerald before he promptly fills his own.

 

“Actually,” Gerald goes on, lowing his voice slightly as he deposits the champagne bottle back into its bed of ice and taking up his glass returns his attentions to Lettice. “I’m rather glad we’re here alone just now.”

 

Lettice tilts her head and cocks her eyebrow again, this time questioningly.

 

“Guess from whom I received a short letter from this afternoon, just prior to coming here?” Gerald asks mysteriously.

 

“Not Mr. Cookson?” Lettice asks, referring to the Pinkerton that she and Gerald have engaged to investigate the truth behind the lie that Lettice’s former beau was engaged to an Antipodean***************** diamond mine heiress.

 

For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October 1924 that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish Mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the unpleasant issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.

 

Lettice is now engaged to Sir John Nettleford Hughes. Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John, according to London society gossip enjoys dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a aftermath of the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Although she did not become engaged to him then, Lettice did reacquaint herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by mutual friends Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate in 1924. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again later that year at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show in Soho, where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening. Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. When Lettice’s understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, fell apart, Lettice agreed to Sir John’s proposal. Then, during the General Strike****************** that almost brought the nation to a standstill earlier in the year, Selwyn and Lettice were reintroduced, and she found out that Selwyn wasn’t engaged to another woman at all, as she was led to believe by Lady Zinnia, and it had all been a fabrication, leaving her in a quandary over what to do: break her engagement with Sir John and marry the man she truly loves and has never stopped loving, or remain engaged to Sir John, preserving his honour and the good name of her own family.

 

Lettice and Gerald have engaged the services of an Inquiry Agent*******************, Mr. Cookson, to get to the bottom of the matter, who has left for Nairobi and Durban to further his investigations away from the difference paid to Lady Zinnia which have stymied his enquiries.

 

“The very same.” Gerald admits. “He docked in Mombasa last month and travelled overland to Nairobi, which is where his note was posted from.”

 

“What does he say?” Lettice asks with excitement.

 

“Well,” Gerald replies, putting his flute back down on the surface of the silver tray, before delving into the satin lined breast pocket of his black barathea******************** tail coat and withdrawing a small piece of creamy paper. “You may read it for yourself.”

 

Lettice passes Gerald her glass with a shaking hand before pouncing upon the note, unfolding it. Inside, Mr. Cookson’s spidery, sloping copperplate spreads across the page in untidy rows with splotches of ink blooming from the paper like inky flowers, looking as though the correspondence were written whilst aboard the overland from Mombasa to Nairobi. She glances up at Gerald with alarm.

 

“His penmanship is awful, but your perseverance will pay you dividends, Lettice darling.”

 

Lettice returns her gaze to the page.

 

‘Dear Mr. Bruton,

 

Well, I have reached Nairobi safely, albeit a little shaken from the rudimentary journey from Mombasa overland. The origins of Kitty Avendale remain elusive, however I have been able to ascertain that a Miss Kathy Daleeth, daughter of an agricultural labourer who immigrated from Ireland to Australia last century, arrived in British East Africa********************* about six months before Kitty Avendale appeared at the Muthaiga Club********************** in Nairobi. She promoted herself about town as a fine horsewoman, capable of breaking in wild horses after growing up on her father’s farm in the colony of New South Wales, where there were Brumbies, which from what I can gather are wild Australian horses. She was taken on as a stable hand by a rogue local racehorse breeder from the Aberdare Range***********************, Mr. Charlie Chet - none other than Miss Chetwynd’s errant elder brother Lionel. I have been able to establish that she was in his employ up until the time of Miss Avendale’s arrival. This seems mysteriously to coincide with a change in Mr. Chetwynd’s luck. Known locally as a mediocre horse breeder whose nags are better suited for farmwork than winning races, Mr. Chetwynd is somewhat of a profligate gambler, often losing what few decent brood mares he has in his stable on reckless wagers. Yet at the same time as Miss Avendale turned up at the gambling tables of the Muthaiga Club, throwing money around like pebbles, so too did Mr. Chetwynd. Sources close to him tell me that when he had imbibed a little too much, he spoke of going into partnership with a great lady with an eye for good business. I am now pursuing this lead, as well as the probable likelihood that Kathy Daleeth and Kitty Avendale are one and the same woman.

 

Sincerely,

 

J. E. Cookson Esq.’

 

Lettice’s hand holding the letter drops as she looks Gerald squarely in the face, her own face suddenly pale and drained of blood. Her lower lip begins to quiver as the gleam of unshed tears begin to shimmer in the corners of her blue eyes. “It’s Lionel. He’s involved.”

 

“As we speculated he was, Lettice darling.” Gerald reminds his best childhood chum sagely. “As we feared.”

 

“As we knew.” Lettice corrects, handing the letter back to Gerald before delving into her small beaded reticule covered in petit-point roses in sparkling pink and gold and withdrawing a small lace trimmed handkerchief which she begins to dab at her eyes with, trying very hard not to smudge the dark kohl************************ that she has rimmed her eyes with dramatically. “My worst nightmare come to fruition. My own brother involved in some way with Lady Zinnia and that awful Kitty Avendale.”

 

Gerald puts down Lettice’s glass alongside his own and reaches out to Lettice, grasping her around the upper arms and smiling at her. “No blubbing************************* now. You don’t want Dolly and Mr. Hatchett to guess anything is amiss, do you? We’re supposed to be here to celebrate. They’ll know something is afoot f they see tears.”

 

Lettice sniffs deeply and Gerald can feel her stiffen in his hands as she tries to steel herself.

 

“Besides,” Gerald goes on. “We have no definitive proof that Lionel and Lady Zinnia are connected.”

 

“Do we need it?” Lettice asks in a deflated fashion. “You know Lionel every bit as well as I do, and you know how perfectly perfidious he is. I know he’s involved.” She looks her best friend squarely in the face. “And so do you, Gerald darling. Let’s not insult each other’s and our own intelligence, and pretend otherwise.”

 

“Yes,” Gerald heaves a heavy sigh. “There is no denying that.”

 

As if she knew she was being spoken about, Mrs. Hatchett, followed by her husband, bustle rambunctiously into the room just at that moment, filled with apologies as they greet their guests.

 

“We’re so sorry to have kept you waiting Miss Chetwynd, Gerald.” Mrs. Hatchett apologises. “We couldn’t fasten up poor Charlie’s bow tie, and he was all a-bother after sitting later than expected in The House.”

 

“I need you to be my valet, Mr. Bruton.” Mr. Hatchett remarks jokingly as he puts his finger into the cavity between his stiff evening collar and the flesh of his neck.

 

Dressed semi formally compared to Gerald’s set of tails, Mr. Hatchett in his dinner jacket, looks every bit the successful politician who still enjoys a few too many long luncheons and dinners at his club, or in the Palace of Westminster. He still retains a certain handsomeness with salt and pepper hair. And Mrs. Hatchett is every inch the politician’s wife in a striking black frock shimmering with silver bead appliqués which has Gerald’s hallmarks of fine couture.

 

“I see you’ve cracked open the bottle of champagne already!” Mr. Hatchett chortles, the remark making Lettice blush, which helps to hide her underlying distress. “Capital! Capital, Gerald, old bean!”

 

“Now,” Mrs. Hatchett remarks with an air of conspiracy as she winds her arm though Lettice’s, as her husband pours both of them a champagne into the unused glasses. “What have you and Gerald been gossiping about in my absence, Miss Chetwynd? You must tell me! I insist!”

 

“Well… I… that is… we…” Lettice stammers.

 

“We were gossiping about home.” Gerald quickly interjects, thinking more quickly on his feet than Lettice. “I received a letter from my mother full of home county gossip. You know the thing, Dolly – cattle shows, country fêtes and that sort of thing.”

 

“Oh, how terribly dull.” Mrs, Hatchett opines with disappointment. “Well, I must tell you all about our first political soirée we had here the other night, Miss Chetwynd! Even Ellen Wilkinson had to admit that this was a tasteful interior, and she’s a Socialist! Come and sit.” She leads Lettice to the empty sofa and drags Lettice down to sit with her.

 

*The Royal Academy of Arts is a prestigious, independent institution in London dedicated to the visual arts, founded in 1768 by forty artists and architects under King George III. It was originally located at Somerset House before moving to Trafalgar Square and finally to its permanent home at Burlington House, Piccadilly, in 1868. It is renowned for hosting the annual Summer Exhibition (a major feature of the London Season) which it has been holding since 1769, promoting art through education, and being run by artists and architects.

 

**Queen Anne’s Gate is a street in Westminster, London. Many of the buildings are Grade I listed, known for their Queen Anne architecture. Simon Bradley and Nikolaus Pevsner described the Gate’s early Eighteenth Century houses as “the best of their kind in London.” The street’s proximity to the Palace of Westminster made it a popular residential area for politicians.

 

***The London constituency of Tower Hamlets includes such areas and historic towns as (roughly from west to east) Spitalfields, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, Wapping, Shadwell, Mile End, Stepney, Limehouse, Old Ford, Bow, Bromley, Poplar, and the Isle of Dogs (with Millwall, the West India Docks, and Cubitt Town), making it a majority working class constituency in 1925 when this story is set. Tower Hamlets included some of the worst slums and societal issues of inequality and poverty in England at that time.

 

****White furs were highly sought after during the Jazz Age and were often used to create opulent, full-length coats, stoles, or large collars and cuffs on velvet evening coats. White fur coats in the 1920s were primarily made from fox, especially white and silver fox, mink, ermine, and dyed rabbit. For a more textured or voluminous look, women also wore Tibetan (or Mongolian) lamb. Additionally, faux fur (made from early synthetic textiles like plush pile) was already available.

 

*****Originally a street and a square, Queen Anne’s Gate began life as Queen Square and Park Street. The two were separated by a high wall until 1873when the two areas were combined into Queen Anne’s Gate. Queen Square was constructed first, then when Park Street was constructed, residents of Queen Square were so concerned that the road would be used as a cut through for carriages to avoid the traffic of King Street, the Sanctuary and Tothill Street that a subscription was collected for the building of the wall to avoid the residents having the peace of their square disturbed. The architecture of the buildings in the original Queen Square part of Queen Anne’s Gate is superb, and the main doors to the majority of buildings have very elaborate decorated wooden canopies.

 

A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.

 

*******Rotherfield is a large village and civil parish in East Sussex, located in the Wealden district, which includes the nearby village of Mark Cross. Known for its rich history dating back to the Eighth Century, the area is characterised by scenic farmland, and notable sites like Eridge Park and Rotherfield Hall.

 

********A lunette is a crescent- or half-moon–shaped or semi-circular architectural space or feature, usually above a doorway or walkway, variously filled by windows, masonry, a painted mural, or sometimes left void.

 

*********Jeffrey and Company was an English producer of fine wallpapers that operated between 1836 and the mid 1930s. Based at 64 Essex Road in London, the firm worked with a variety of designers who were active in the aesthetic and arts and crafts movements, such as E.W. Godwin, William Morris, and Walter Crane. Jeffrey and Company’s success is often credited to Metford Warner, who became the company’s chief proprietor in 1871. Under his direction the firm became one of the most lucrative and influential wallpaper manufacturers in Europe. The company clarified that wallpaper should not be reserved for use solely in mansions, but should be available for rooms in the homes of the emerging upper-middle class.

 

**********The International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts was a specialized exhibition held in Paris, from April the 29th (the day after it was inaugurated in a private ceremony by the President of France) to October the 25th, 1925. It was designed by the French government to highlight the new modern style of architecture, interior decoration, furniture, glass, jewellery and other decorative arts in Europe and throughout the world. Many ideas of the international avant-garde in the fields of architecture and applied arts were presented for the first time at the exposition. The event took place between the esplanade of Les Invalides and the entrances of the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, and on both banks of the Seine. There were fifteen thousand exhibitors from twenty different countries, and it was visited by sixteen million people during its seven-month run. The modern style presented at the exposition later became known as “Art Deco”, after the exposition's name.

 

***********Light shipboard reading refers to engaging, easy-to-digest books, magazines, or articles that travelers can comfortably consume while journeying on a boat or ship. The phrase implies portable, accessible material that doesn't demand heavy concentration, making it ideal for passing time on a voyage.

 

************A. H. Mayhew was once one of many bookshops located in London’s Charring Cross Road, an area still famous today for its bookshops, perhaps most famously written about by American authoress Helene Hanff who wrote ’84, Charing Cross Road’, which later became a play and then a 1987 film starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. Number 56. Charing Cross Road was the home of Mayhew’s second-hand and rare bookshop. Closed after the war, their premises is now the home of Any Amount of Books bookshop.

 

*************Chinoiserie (from the French chinois, meaning "Chinese-esque") is a recurring Western decorative style and art movement. Inspired by traditional Asian art—primarily from China and Japan—it is characterised by fanciful, often idealised interpretations of Eastern motifs, including pagodas, exotic birds, lush flora, and fantastical landscapes.

 

**************Dragonware is a highly collectible style of Japanese export porcelain and pottery, typically produced from the late 1800s to the mid Twentieth Century. It is famous for its intricate, hand-painted raised relief dragons (a technique called moriage) and items often feature hidden "lithophane" images of a Geisha's face at their bottoms. The base porcelain usually features a matte or lustre glaze, commonly in black, grey, or dark blue.

 

***************The saying of “running to time like the British railways” stems from the Nineteenth Century Railway Time revolution. Before trains, towns operated on varying local solar times. To prevent collisions and schedule departures, the Science Museum notes that the network mandated a single standard Greenwich Mean Time across the country in 1847. Because trains allowed people to cross the country quickly, strict Great Western Railway timetables became the benchmark for discipline and synchronised timekeeping in Great Britain. This birthed a lasting idiom equating impeccable reliability to the railways.

 

****************In the 1920s, antique shops were commonly referred to as curiosity shops, antiquaries, or bric-à-brac shops. These spaces often served as a hybrid between a museum and a retail store, where dealers sold a mixed variety of historical relics, estate furniture, and decorative knick-knacks.

 

*****************Antipodean is a term relating to Australia or New Zealand (used by inhabitants of the northern hemisphere).

 

******************The 1926 General Strike was a nine-day nationwide stoppage in the United Kingdom between the third and twelfth of May. It was called by the Trades Union Congress to support over a million coal miners facing wage cuts and longer hours. Following "Black Friday" in 1921, miners faced a lockout after refusing "not a penny off the pay, not an hour on the day" wage reductions and longer hours. The Labour Party and trade union politicians faced intense backlash and accusations of "betrayal" from sections of the working class across Great Britain in the aftermath of the General Strike, when the Trades Union Congress abruptly called it off after only nine days. The Trades Union Congress leadership—which included prominent trade unionists and politicians—was widely condemned by rank-and-file workers. They were accused of capitulating to the Conservative government, who were pro mine owner and anti-worker, out of fear of the strike escalating into a broader social revolution. The Miners' Federation of Great Britain felt particularly betrayed because they continued their strike for seven months on their own before being starved back to work with pay cuts and longer hours. The Communist Party of Great Britain heavily criticized the reformist Labour leadership. The backlash fuelled an internal ideological battle between moderate politicians and the radical, pro-union left. In the aftermath, the Labour Party national leadership launched purges against Communist Party members and heavily disciplined local labour branches that defied official directives during the crisis.

 

*******************In 1920s England, private investigators were most commonly referred to as Inquiry Agents or Private Inquiry Agents. They were frequently engaged for matters involving surveillance and divorce, with other common terms including private detectives, commercial agents, and private investigators used.

 

********************Barathea is a soft, durable, high-end fabric known for its distinctive pebbled or broken-twill weave, offering a matte finish with a slight, elegant texture. Originally developed in the 1840s, it is typically produced as worsted wool, but can be found in silk or wool-cotton blends. It is traditionally used for formalwear, tuxedos, and military uniforms due to its ability to hold a deep black colour and a sharp crease, and it is favoured for its durability.

 

*********************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, with a ten mile coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.

 

**********************The Muthaiga Club is a club in Nairobi. It is located in the suburb of Muthaiga, about fifteen minutes’ drive from the city centre. The Muthaiga Country Club opened on New Year's Eve in 1913, and became a gathering place for the colonial British settlers in British East Africa, which later became in 1920, the Colony of Kenya.

 

***********************The Aberdare Range (formerly the Sattima Range) is a one hundred mile long mountain range of upland, north of Kenya's capital Nairobi with an average elevation of thirteen thousand one hundred and thirty feet. It straddles across the counties of Nyandarua, Nyeri, Muranga, Kiambu and Laikipia.

 

************************Kohl is a cosmetic product, specifically an eyeliner, traditionally made from crushed stibnite (antimony sulfide). Modern formulations often include galena (lead sulfide) or other pigments like charcoal. Kohl is known for its ability to darken the edges of the eyelids, creating a striking, eye-enhancing effect. Kohl has a long history, with ancient Egyptians using it to define their eyes and protect them from the sun and dust, however there was a resurgence in its use in the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1920s, kohl eyeliner was a popular makeup trend, particularly among women embracing the "flapper" aesthetic. It was used to create a dramatic, "smoky eye" look by smudging it onto the lash line and even the inner and outer corners of the eyes. This contrasted with the more demure, natural looks favoured in the pre-war era.

 

*************************Blubbing (a word used in my own childhood, directed to me) means crying uncontrollably, and usually in a messy or dramatic way. It is a common British term that equates to "sobbing" or "bawling." The word often carries a slightly unsympathetic or mocking tone, implying that the person crying is making a scene or being overly dramatic, and shouldn’t.

 

**************************Ellen Wilkinson (1891–1947) was a pioneering British Labour Party politician, feminist, and lifelong socialist advocate for the working class. Standing under five feet tall with vibrant auburn hair, she was famously nicknamed "Red Ellen" and "The Mighty Atom" for her fierce oratory skills and radical political views.

 

This slightly chaotic upper-class still life of redecoration in progress is different to what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, some of which come from my own childhood and teenage years.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The two black and blue Dragonware jugs on the stands are from my early teenage years. They are from the 1860s. I bought them at a car boot sale one day, as I was slowly building my 1:12 miniatures collection. I knew that they would come in handy one day! The Art Deco pedestal stand in the midground has been made by the high end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The sofa and chair are beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The stylised Art Deco soft furnishings with their striking geometric patterns have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. The black japanned chinoiserie table was made by the high end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The painting hanging above the fireplace is my own selection of what I thought Mrs. Hatchett might look like, put into a gilded frame that also came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

 

All the glass items on the floor and in the aged crate have been blown and decorated and tinted by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The stopper in the decanter in the foreground is removable.

 

The silver candelabra and punch bowl in the foreground, and the silver plates stacked on the sofa, come from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.

 

The stylised Art Deco fire screen poking out from behind the sofa and pedestal is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.

 

The miniature Oriental rug rolled up in the background of the photo was made by hand looming by Pike and Pike in England.

 

The metal step ladder, bucket and brush in the background come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop.

 

The fireplace is made of plaster, and also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop.

Done