7
FOOD AND SHELTER
October 1944Mrs Vaughn and the BBC was to remain a secret. But when I was back home, I couldn’t help asking Mum if we could listen to the Third Programme. This request was greeted by a burst of chortled, choked laughter and a glut of tut-tutting. It was just as if I had asked to be crowned queen of the May.
“Just for five minutes?” I added.
“You wouldn’t like that highbrow stuff. It’s not for us. You’d be fed up in no time, I can tell you.”
I didn’t ask again. It was far wiser to obey the family rules: ‘seen and not heard’. Even better, ‘non seen and not heard’. If I had told her about Mrs Vaughn and the house and the things we talked about, she would have taken away the magic of the place. She would have soiled the clipped privet hedges and the flower-beds of night
