Frensham is what you would call a rural village, or was in my time. The war had not affected it very much, except for the boys and men it took away forever. Before the gentry discovered it after the Second World War it was mostly made up of cottagers who lived as they had for generations. They owned their own cottage and a little land, passed down from father to son. They kept pigs and donkeys, even a few cows. Many kept bees, made their own wine and often paid in kind for any services the neighbours might do for them. You could imagine them stepping in from the last century, the men in their homemade smock frocks, their wives in long dresses under their coveralls. They saved their money, were indifferent to books and newspapers and disinterested and anything that happened further than the next town. They never took holidays, but liked to sit in the evening over a glass of beer or homemade wine, gossiping with their neighbours. I believe they did not know what it was like to feel dull.
The old people lived quiet lives of self-reliance, lives of simple dignity. Their children looked to the city for their excitement, and many deserted Frensham for factory jobs. For the most part the village has an air of living in a time gone by.
Almost directly across from Rookery Cottages was St. Mary the Virgin, dating back many centuries. The prayer cushions were wonderfully worked by women long dead and forgotten and the windows were rich with stained glass. Eileen, and later her brother Leonard were christened there.
When the time came Eileen and little Len attended the village school. Schooling had not changed since my time as a student. A few rules of Arithmetic, a little of the geography of the British Isles, a little poetry, some nature study, penmanship, needlework for the girls, woodworking for the boys – all these were offered in the simple education offered to the children of Frensham. When they left school at fourteen, their real education began. Apprentiship for some, domestic service for others.
Frensham is overseen by the Bishop’s castle, a grand building where Queen Mary once stayed while waiting for her future husband, the King of Spain to arrive in England. It may be that the public can visit it now, but in my time the Bishop lorded over it like royalty.
There are many lanes where one can wander into the countryside from the village, and from spring until fall they are lined with all kinds of flowering plants. In the village high street are grocery, hardware and ready-made clothing shops, as well as a bakery and a pharmacy. When Woolworth’s opened its doors everyone was excited, for one could buy everything from greeting cards to cloth and sewing needs.
I loved those years living in Frensham while my husband was working as the Commons Keeper. Our son Len was born a few years after Eileen. Their father came home every night and we were a happy family. Like Mrs. Maidment said, “Your Len will come right in time.”
How could I know my Len was leading a secret life?
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