Wednesday 3th June 1970
To Miss P Vaughan, The Broadway, Hayward's Heath.
The following is an extract from the diary of my mother, Mrs Rose Wilcocks née Going of The Mews, Hayward's Heath, Sussex. I found these few pages among some of her papers when acting as her executor. As you know my mother passed away last month and as her only surviving kin I have the responsibility of clearing the house. I know that you were kind enough to have kept in touch with your old nurse and I thought these pages might interest you as they cast light on her first appointment as your nurse and they contain what might be thought to be a strange coincidence. I hope you find them interesting.
Yours Philip Wilcocks.
To Miss P Vaughan, The Broadway, Hayward's Heath.
The following is an extract from the diary of my mother, Mrs Rose Wilcocks née Going of The Mews, Hayward's Heath, Sussex. I found these few pages among some of her papers when acting as her executor. As you know my mother passed away last month and as her only surviving kin I have the responsibility of clearing the house. I know that you were kind enough to have kept in touch with your old nurse and I thought these pages might interest you as they cast light on her first appointment as your nurse and they contain what might be thought to be a strange coincidence. I hope you find them interesting.
Yours Philip Wilcocks.
Monday 27th April 1908
It has been such a busy day that I didn't think I would have a moment to write these words. There's been such a deal of moving in and organising and running around and listening to instructions that I thought it might never end. Now that the little mite is settled, I've a few precious moments to draw breath. I've resolved to keep this journal of my life and my work now that a new beginning has been made.
So, here I am, Rose Going, a nurse in my own right. Until this day I'd been a nursery maid, one of two, in the charge of Nurse Procter at Valley Grange in Sussex, the home of Mr and Mrs Simmons of
Simmons and Teale, Importers of fine teas. I was content in my previous situation. Nurse Procter was strict but fair in her dealings with Elsie and me and I learned a great deal from her. I'd be in that place still and happy to be so, but children grow so quickly, and a family eventually outgrows the need for nurses and nursery maids. Even dear Mrs Simmons, bless her, who brought eleven children into the world, three of which I've helped to care for. But all things come to an end. The twelfth was one too many for the mistress, God rest her dear soul.
Elsie was let go first; she was younger than me. Mr Simmons gave her a good character and she got a place with a young family. They only needed a nursery maid as the mother would be assisting.
Poor Elsie, you know what ‘assisting’ means. It means interfering. Nurse Procter would never have stood for it and neither will I if they get such ideas here.
I didn't wait to be told that I would no longer be required. I could see which way the wind would soon be blowing, and Nurse Procter agreed. She said it was time that I spread my wings and looked for a new position for myself. It was she who said I should look for a position as a nurse. She said that I had the makings of a fine nurse, well that remains to be seen, though I'm grateful for her confidence and would hope not to disappoint her. Mr Simmons was very kind and gave me an excellent character and here I am, a nurse, with a little mite of my own to care for, darling little Philippa only a few months old and a strong and lusty little lady if ever there was one.
It has been such a busy day that I didn't think I would have a moment to write these words. There's been such a deal of moving in and organising and running around and listening to instructions that I thought it might never end. Now that the little mite is settled, I've a few precious moments to draw breath. I've resolved to keep this journal of my life and my work now that a new beginning has been made.
So, here I am, Rose Going, a nurse in my own right. Until this day I'd been a nursery maid, one of two, in the charge of Nurse Procter at Valley Grange in Sussex, the home of Mr and Mrs Simmons of
Simmons and Teale, Importers of fine teas. I was content in my previous situation. Nurse Procter was strict but fair in her dealings with Elsie and me and I learned a great deal from her. I'd be in that place still and happy to be so, but children grow so quickly, and a family eventually outgrows the need for nurses and nursery maids. Even dear Mrs Simmons, bless her, who brought eleven children into the world, three of which I've helped to care for. But all things come to an end. The twelfth was one too many for the mistress, God rest her dear soul.
Elsie was let go first; she was younger than me. Mr Simmons gave her a good character and she got a place with a young family. They only needed a nursery maid as the mother would be assisting.
Poor Elsie, you know what ‘assisting’ means. It means interfering. Nurse Procter would never have stood for it and neither will I if they get such ideas here.
I didn't wait to be told that I would no longer be required. I could see which way the wind would soon be blowing, and Nurse Procter agreed. She said it was time that I spread my wings and looked for a new position for myself. It was she who said I should look for a position as a nurse. She said that I had the makings of a fine nurse, well that remains to be seen, though I'm grateful for her confidence and would hope not to disappoint her. Mr Simmons was very kind and gave me an excellent character and here I am, a nurse, with a little mite of my own to care for, darling little Philippa only a few months old and a strong and lusty little lady if ever there was one.
Tuesday 28th April 1908
Cloudy all day with those April showers that make everything so damp and miserable. I hope the May flowers are worth it.
What I wrote yesterday seemed all of the past; it's the present and the future that should concern me now. My new situation is with Mr and Mrs Vaughan of The Broadway, Hayward's Heath. Mr Vaughan is something in the City and goes on the train each morning with his father, Mr Edward Vaughan. I am not sure of Mr Edward; he's insisted that I be Nurse Willcox. He says that his nurse was called Willcox and his son's nurse was Nurse Willcox and I'd damned well better be Willcox too. Those are his words not mine. I do not wish to be Willcox. Nor do I see why I should be Willcox unless at some date in the future I should happen to come across a young gentleman of that name, who was kind and honest and not too grotesque to look upon, who might consider me not so much of a ‘plain Jane’ as he might wish to make me a Mrs Willcox. Well then all well and good, I would become Mrs Willcox with a good will but it would be my choice and not imposed by those who should be happy with someone who had their own name, which they thought a lot of and didn't want it changed willy-nilly. There now, I hope I've got that off my chest. Cook said that she knew a good many people in service who had their names changed each time they took a new position and it shouldn't be so much of a problem if the situation was a good one and I should be grateful I wasn't to be called Cornplaster. She said she knew a maid who was called Basket for three years and then had to become Gotobed. Well, that made me laugh.
I think things seem to be settling down nicely and the little mite has been so good it's a pleasure to be with her. Mrs Vaughan is a dear soul. Philippa's her first and she's glad to have a nurse who knows what she's about. I was surprised that I was the second nurse in a few months, but Mrs Vaughan said that the other nurse had had to leave for, personal, reasons. I asked cook about it, but she said it wasn't her place to comment. Since she comments about everything else that goes on in the house that seemed odd so I shall work on her. I shall get to the bottom of it eventually.
Cloudy all day with those April showers that make everything so damp and miserable. I hope the May flowers are worth it.
What I wrote yesterday seemed all of the past; it's the present and the future that should concern me now. My new situation is with Mr and Mrs Vaughan of The Broadway, Hayward's Heath. Mr Vaughan is something in the City and goes on the train each morning with his father, Mr Edward Vaughan. I am not sure of Mr Edward; he's insisted that I be Nurse Willcox. He says that his nurse was called Willcox and his son's nurse was Nurse Willcox and I'd damned well better be Willcox too. Those are his words not mine. I do not wish to be Willcox. Nor do I see why I should be Willcox unless at some date in the future I should happen to come across a young gentleman of that name, who was kind and honest and not too grotesque to look upon, who might consider me not so much of a ‘plain Jane’ as he might wish to make me a Mrs Willcox. Well then all well and good, I would become Mrs Willcox with a good will but it would be my choice and not imposed by those who should be happy with someone who had their own name, which they thought a lot of and didn't want it changed willy-nilly. There now, I hope I've got that off my chest. Cook said that she knew a good many people in service who had their names changed each time they took a new position and it shouldn't be so much of a problem if the situation was a good one and I should be grateful I wasn't to be called Cornplaster. She said she knew a maid who was called Basket for three years and then had to become Gotobed. Well, that made me laugh.
I think things seem to be settling down nicely and the little mite has been so good it's a pleasure to be with her. Mrs Vaughan is a dear soul. Philippa's her first and she's glad to have a nurse who knows what she's about. I was surprised that I was the second nurse in a few months, but Mrs Vaughan said that the other nurse had had to leave for, personal, reasons. I asked cook about it, but she said it wasn't her place to comment. Since she comments about everything else that goes on in the house that seemed odd so I shall work on her. I shall get to the bottom of it eventually.
Wednesday 6th May 1908
Bright clear day but storm clouds brewing.
I have got to the bottom of why the last nurse felt it necessary to leave ‘for, personal, reasons’. I said I wasn't sure about Mr Edward and now I know why. I got to the bottom of it alright. This morning, as I was about to take the little mite for a walk in the perambulator, it being such a nice clear day, I was leaning over tucking her in nice and warm and comfy when that Mr Edward pinched my bottom. Then he grinned at me, bold as brass, said, “Good morning, Willcox” and waltzed out of the house, whistling. I didn't know where to put myself, I really didn't. I mean, I've been pinched afore and that weren't no problem, it was folk like the butcher's boy or the baker's lad, and I could give them a thick ear or a piece of my mind but Mr Edward, why he's old enough to be my father. I had a word with Cook about it, asked what I should do. She said as I was lucky it was only my bum, with the last nurse he'd grabbed hold of her somewhere else and said it was a pity she wasn't a wet nurse. Well I said I wasn't having none of that and would be looking for a new situation if it happened again. Cook laughed. It's alright for her, he doesn't go down to the kitchen.
Thursday 7 May 1908
Storm broke but after squalls the sun came out.
He did it again. The dirty old devil goosed me as I was bathing Philippa in the nursery. I nearly dropped the little mite. I squealed so loud it started the baby off a-wailing. As luck would have it the mistress had chosen this day to come and watch the little mite have her bath. She'd just gone to fetch a warm towel from before the fire and she walked right in on it.
My, was there a to-do. The master nearly had to scrape the mistress off the ceiling, she was so angry. She called Mr Edward a few names even I'd never heard and said she wasn't having him assaulting her staff and putting her little angel at risk of injury, scalding or worse. She didn't care if it was Mr Edward's house, she wasn't going to have her daughter endangered, I think that was the word, by a dirty old… I didn't really catch the next bit they was in the drawing room but I could hear most of it from the nursery landing.
Mr Edward went to his club in the city for a few days and the master slipped me a guinea and said he was sorry if I'd been inconvenienced. If it happens again he'll be inconvenienced. I didn't say that, of course, but I thought it. If he don't do it no more I reckon it might be worth a guinea. There's a real nice hat in the milliners on the High Street, go lovely with my Sunday best.
Bright clear day but storm clouds brewing.
I have got to the bottom of why the last nurse felt it necessary to leave ‘for, personal, reasons’. I said I wasn't sure about Mr Edward and now I know why. I got to the bottom of it alright. This morning, as I was about to take the little mite for a walk in the perambulator, it being such a nice clear day, I was leaning over tucking her in nice and warm and comfy when that Mr Edward pinched my bottom. Then he grinned at me, bold as brass, said, “Good morning, Willcox” and waltzed out of the house, whistling. I didn't know where to put myself, I really didn't. I mean, I've been pinched afore and that weren't no problem, it was folk like the butcher's boy or the baker's lad, and I could give them a thick ear or a piece of my mind but Mr Edward, why he's old enough to be my father. I had a word with Cook about it, asked what I should do. She said as I was lucky it was only my bum, with the last nurse he'd grabbed hold of her somewhere else and said it was a pity she wasn't a wet nurse. Well I said I wasn't having none of that and would be looking for a new situation if it happened again. Cook laughed. It's alright for her, he doesn't go down to the kitchen.
Thursday 7 May 1908
Storm broke but after squalls the sun came out.
He did it again. The dirty old devil goosed me as I was bathing Philippa in the nursery. I nearly dropped the little mite. I squealed so loud it started the baby off a-wailing. As luck would have it the mistress had chosen this day to come and watch the little mite have her bath. She'd just gone to fetch a warm towel from before the fire and she walked right in on it.
My, was there a to-do. The master nearly had to scrape the mistress off the ceiling, she was so angry. She called Mr Edward a few names even I'd never heard and said she wasn't having him assaulting her staff and putting her little angel at risk of injury, scalding or worse. She didn't care if it was Mr Edward's house, she wasn't going to have her daughter endangered, I think that was the word, by a dirty old… I didn't really catch the next bit they was in the drawing room but I could hear most of it from the nursery landing.
Mr Edward went to his club in the city for a few days and the master slipped me a guinea and said he was sorry if I'd been inconvenienced. If it happens again he'll be inconvenienced. I didn't say that, of course, but I thought it. If he don't do it no more I reckon it might be worth a guinea. There's a real nice hat in the milliners on the High Street, go lovely with my Sunday best.