Saturday May 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Guiseley cemetery.

A deep sleep again. It's a form of exhaustion I'm sure. Woke at 8:30. Poached eggs. A dull, overcast day. A typical start to a bank holiday. Feel particularly glum. It's a week since Mum was taken. It's obscene. I am having trouble with a toe-nail. It's a hideous sight. I sat in the bath soaking it, much to Samuel's amusement. Maureen suggested cutting the toe out of an old shoe, and this I did. It could set a new fashion. We were supposed to have a bank holiday extension in the bars tonight but I feel so awful, and on top of the festering toe I have a bad stomach too. Feel cold from inside. Ally was upstairs watching "Where Eagles Dare" for the 48,000,000th time. I kept running up and sitting on the toilet. John and Janette are at Horton. Dad, God bless him, is all I have got left to look up to. I phone him every day. Parents are so precious. 

(Yesterday, we visited the cemetery at Guiseley in the afternoon. Samuel played in the long grass and we looked at Mum's flowers and stared in disbelief at the wet, clay mound on top of her. It is a quiet corner though. On to Sue's afterwards. Pete was creosoting a fence.)

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Friday May 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Uncle Albert.

The first of May was the day on which Mum must have decided to get everything off her chest and then be at peace. If you can recall it was the day she told Papa and I that she wanted to be buried at Guiseley. Hilda and Tony visited that night and Dad took Tony to the Oddfellows for a drink leaving Mum and her sister alone. It was when they were upstairs together that a very poignant exchange occurred. Mum told Hilda that she was the daughter of Levinyer and Uncle Albert. She told Hilda that her mother (Levinyer) had disclosed this news when she herself was on her deathbed in 1957. Mum was so shocked that she only ever repeated this to Dad. (Dad told me of this in 1969). It was then that a bombshell came. Hilda told Mum that she too was the daughter of Uncle Albert, and neither had ever suspected that they were similarly sired. Both had spent the years from 1957 thinking they were alone, outcasts and virtual freaks. How sad that they both discovered that they were full sisters 18 days before one was taken away forever. How wrenching. I find it particularly annoying that Levinyer didn't have the sense to inform both her daughters together, to help them share the peculiar burden. I have always pondered, since I was told this story in 1969, on the structure of the Wilson family, and I decided long ago that Hilda must be Albert's child too. I cannot see Levinyer switching from one brother to the other and then back again. Dad says he cannot pretend to understand the relationships but recalled going along to St James's Crescent in December, 1953, to ask John Wilson for his daughter's hand in marriage to be confronted by the sober supposed father of the bride, who immediately responded: "Yes, you can marry Nora and I request that Hilda is the chief bridesmaid". Dad thought this was a strange proviso and now looking back he can see John's reasoning. The only people who could ever explain the antics of this ménage à trois are not going to reveal anything now. Poor Hilda. I must speak to her about this.

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Thursday May 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The funeral of my poor, young mother.  (Redaction).

We went to Guiseley. Left the car at Sue's and walked to Lynn's. A full house. Long, lost relations too numerous to mention. Ally was annoyed at the way so many family and friends treat Mum's funeral like an enjoyable family reunion. Flowers galore. I didn't read any of the cards because I didn't want to blubber. 

St Paul's, Esholt.

To St Paul's, Esholt. The church was full of friends. Mr Barnes, the vicar, attempted to ease the pain but could not justify the death of a loved and lovely 50 year-old wife and mother. St Paul's letter to the Thessalonians didn't help. We wept through the hymns. To Guiseley cemetery at 11:45. A dull, but thankfully dry morning. Mum was lowered into the damp earth and we huddled around in the damp grass. 

(Redaction).

Back to Lynn's  for whisky. Just the four children, spouses, JPH and Catherine - two impeccably behaved children. Dad walked back to Thorpe Lane after seeing all the mourners off. It was what she wanted. No large gathering afterwards. No wake. Just a funeral and then home. Collected Sam. Home for 5. I was in bed at 7:30 totally exhausted. ______Tragic.

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Wednesday May 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dull, miserable, overcast. You name it. I woke up glum and read a letter of sympathy from Edna and Nellie  which reduced me to tears.  Also a nice card from Sarah and Delia. Birthday cards for Ally. We had boiled eggs. _______. I phoned Anne's florist in Guiseley and ordered two floral sprays one from us and one from Bessie. £27 in all. I asked for roses. We went looking for a black jacket for Ally without success. It was a wasted, frantic hour. Ally insisted that Mum wouldn't want us to be doing this, looking for mourning garb, but I'm of the opinion that lime green polka dots at funerals should be avoided at all costs. Hilda phoned, just to talk. Sue phoned Ally to say that Dad had had a bad night, and had walked up to the Cemetery. Dad's brother Joe had phoned him. The conversation was 'crisp' says Dad. 

I phoned Lynn who says Auntie Dorothy had written to Dad. "Very sweet and sympathetic". We went to Bradford at 3:30 where Ally found a black jacket in Rackham's. Dad saw Jack Denison at 6 and then came here at 7:30. It was good to see him. Marjorie worked and Ally came down and we sat in a corner. We talked about tomorrow and the funeral. upstairs for 11.___________.

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Tuesday May 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally is twenty seven today. I bought her some things last Thursday and I gave then to her unwrapped at breakfast, with no enthusiasm. A Laura Ashley petticoat (£18) and odd bits of Almay cosmetics. They latter were from Sam. It was hard to find a card which avoided saying "Happy Birthday". It was a ratty, disorganised birthday morning. Heavy rain. We went to Guiseley and had fish and chips with Sue. Lynn's household is stricken with 'flu and so we avoided taking Samuel. Dad, Sue says, has moments when he is overcome with emotion and grief, but he can gather himself quickly. ____. I wanted to order flowers from Anne's florist but Guiseley appeared to be totally shut down. Just Ally and I called on Lynn. Thomas came out of hospital at 4pm yesterday. John & Janette were with Lynn. Back to collect Samuel and then on to Menston for 3:30. Hilda has decided to visit the chapel of rest to see Mum at 6 and John and I have decided to accompany Dad. I was in two minds about this but have decided to pay my respects and see her for the last time. We watched 'Demetrius and the Gladiators' which John had recorded from Sunday. Janette is a good and thoughtful girl. _______. John, Dad and I met Hilda on Otley Rd at 6. We went in just for a few minutes. Hilda sobbed. Mum, beautiful in her coffin in white satin. Her hair so dark. They had applied some make-up and lipstick. Dad had a weep. He asks 'why?' Tony picked up H at 8:30 and we went to Leeds and the pub. Gary worked. June brought a birthday cake in for Ally.

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Monday May 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

A gloomy morning. I wanted to see Dad and time seems to have dragged since that fateful hour on Saturday. Dad phoned me early before leaving for Settle to say he had spent a sleepless night pacing the rooms at Waltergarth. He was eating chocolate biscuits and drinking coffee at 6:30am and then he had slept heavily until he was woken by Jack Denison on the phone at 9:30. Uncle John in Lanzarote had phoned Uncle Arnold with the news, and the latter insisted on seeing Dad today. 

Auntie Mabel phoned and said she would bake two dozen scones for Lynn's after the funeral gathering. Ally told her that Mum had specifically requested 'no bun fight' and that after the funeral only Dad and his children would return to Lynn's. No wake. No boiled ham tea. Nothing. Mabel will be put out because this goes very much against tradition. However, Mum's wishes are to be obeyed. _______.

Dad met Arnold and together they went to record Mum's passing. He bought an extra copy for my records.

Tonight Gary worked. He arrived late at 8:30. Jack Denison phoned here (he wanted to talk to Dad). Ally asked him if I could have a lock of Mum's hair. He said yes, but Dad's permission is required. It may seem morbid, but Mum always took locks of our hair when we were children, and so I'm only getting my own back.

Pool match sandwiches.

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Sunday May 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Sunday after Ascension

We had bacon and eggs and cried at the breakfast table. It has hit Ally this morning. Here we are waking up to a new day, but Mum isn't. Sue took Dad back to Horton this lunchtime. We visited Auntie Mabel and Auntie Hilda. Mabel was entertaining Connie. Hilda was alone. Phoned Dad at 6:30. He has an appointment to register Mum's death at Settle tomorrow and is meeting his brother Arnold at the Royal Oak. He is phoning the vicar (Barnes) tomorrow at 7pm and wanted some suggestions for hymns. At their wedding they had the 23rd Psalm (Crimond) and 'O Perfect Love'. Let's sing these again, says I.

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Saturday May 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We arrived at Horton at 10:30. Mum was lying flat and breathing heavily. Her eyes have gone and cannot focus. I touched her hand - ice cold. Dad looked at me. "She cannot go on much longer". Dad didn't leave her side. I kept leaving the room to blubber. He says the most touching things to her. ______. The last thing he said to her was: "We are going to do it all again one day, aren't we lass". I went outside and sat on the wall looking up at Pen-y-ghent and the sheep. Ally out walking with Sam in his pushchair came back as John and Janette were driving through the village. They went straight in to see her. John holding her hand and with a look of despair. I went back outside, Then, just before 1pm I saw Dad signal for me to go back inside. Ally passed Samuel to Frances, the neighbour. With Dad holding her hand and John, Janette, Ally and me sitting on the bed Mum died at 1pm exactly. I closed her eyes. We drank tea as if it was a normal thing to do, phoned Dr Brewster. He came in and pulled a sheet over her face. When he walked out I uncovered her face. Frances looked after Samuel for the afternoon. I didn't even notice he was gone.

(Large mournful redaction).

At 8;30-9 o'clock Jack Denison, the funeral director, came from Guiseley and took Mum to the chapel of rest on Otley Rd, Guiseley. We followed to Susan's. John and Janette taking Dad. We sat until 11:30. Samuel slept in Sue & Pete's bed. We took him home to Leeds, saying goodnight to Mum as we drove past Denison's. 

Lynn  spent the evening in Otley hospital with Tom. Strange as it may seem, I slept.

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Friday May 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We went back to (see) Mum. This time just Ally, Sam and I. It was a lovely, sunny day. We stopped off in Settle to look at the shops and eat fish and chips on a park bench. Samuel enjoyed this. He is very good. I think he would like having a dog. 

We arrived at Waltergarth after 12 . The (Macmillan) nurse was with Mum who was sitting propped up and looking lifeless and hideous. Black haunting eyes. I wept on a bench in the garden. Dad now says that she will go at any moment. The neighbour Frances said this morning that she found Dad hanging out his washing and sobbing like a baby. I had some bread and cheese and went to hold Mum's hand. So weak, and unable to drink. She has had a horrible, rasping cough since 8am. She appears to be distressed by any noise. We left at tea time and came back to Leeds. 

A nightmare of an evening. I feel ill, throbbing headache. Some gypsies in the tap room gave me a bit of bother.

Lynn, David, Hilda and Tony went to see Mum this evening. Every time the telephone rang I leapt with fright, but nothing happened in the night. We are going back to Horton tomorrow.

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Thursday May 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ascension Day

Ally went out picking flowers with Sam. Donna Lea appeared with a briefcase to address the dwindling sales and the crisis facing us and the Moorhouse should the trend continue. She was so very sympathetic about Mum and says the brewery will do anything to help. She lost her Papa aged 45. "Buy a piano", she says. Otherwise, drivel. You know what area managers are like. 

Phoned Dad tonight. He was in a bad way. Weeping, &c. Mum isn't drinking water now either, and so it's just a matter of time. He was so desolate. I flapped about this and phoned John, Janette and Susie. I decide to go back to Horton tomorrow, but Sue says she will go on Sunday. I advised her that Sunday might be too late. I walked back from the call box in a dream. It is all so very hard to believe. Can it really be my jolly, zestful mother we are talking about? Ally looked at me as I walked into the bar, and from the look on her face it was obvious that she thought I had ghastly news. We are under a lot of strain.

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Wednesday May 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

To Horton-in-Ribblesdale with Sue, Christopher and Benjamin. Rain. We found Mum greatly deteriorated. She now cannot eat or swallow any of her pills, and takes sips of drink from a baby cup. She looked at Ally as she sipped, and said: "Just look at the state I'm in ...". Sue provided a liver casserole for the kids, and both Dad and I had a bowl. Later, Dad and Ally took the children out into the village for a walk. Spitting rain. I sat holding Mum's hand, Sue in a chair looking uncomfortable. She doesn't like the long silences. When Mum speaks it is weak and distorted. Obviously distressed and fed up with living. Dad says the end is near. We drove away later and saw Mum raise her weak, thin arm as an act of goodbye. Dad stood next to the apple tree blinking back tears. Night off. Thank God.

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