John Bly

My mother, Nina Bly

During the last War, my mother, Nina Bly, coped with living next door to her mother-in-law, supplying her with one meal a day and helping to run our much-reduced antique shop on Tring High Street. At the same time, she had an evacuee family of husband and wife and little girl staying in our own tiny house in the courtyard next to St Peter's and St Paul’s Church.

It was quite a lot to put up with, especially having a man around who was not in the armed forces (he had a job in the arms factory in Watford) while my father was in Reykjavik. Then the little girl gave me measles, followed by whooping cough when I was three years old.

In 1945, I was six and on VE Day I remember standing outside our shop amazed at seeing hitherto rather dour people running up and down, hugging one another, laughing and shaking hands.

At this time my grandmother's great ally was Mrs Wheeler, mother-in-law to the wonderful Aileen. The two families have been happily entwined ever since. Both Mrs Bly and Mrs Wheeler had a son on active service, and both old ladies had suffered tragedy during and after the First World War, so they were strict and reserved in their behaviour. They showed subdued joyful reaction to all the street celebrations starting to take place.  

My mother's great friend was Mrs Brenda Kew, wife of Bill, whose company, J.Honour and Sons was to take over as leading builders in the area. Brenda had no such restrictions on her lifestyle and was a constant breath of fresh air to my mother. Out of sight of the two matriarchs, I saw Brenda push through the now crowded street, grab my mother by the hand and pull her across to the Rose and Crown Hotel. My mother had never been in a public bar. And suddenly, there she was, all worries forgotten. But only for a moment, for it was not long before Lettie Bly noticed her absence and was soon told where she was.

Dear, faithful and sympathetic Jack Waring, of workshop and smoking fame, was summoned and ordered to go and retrieve Nina from that den of iniquity immediately, lest the demon drink and the fires of Hell should delay the old lady's next meal. And so, Jack did as he was told, and came back across the road with a none-too-happy Nina.

But my mother had at last seen the inside of a bar, and it was a long while before she saw another one. She took it all with good will and sat with Lettie and me in our shop just chatting and people-watching. It could so easily have ended in tears; but it didn't, thanks to my mother. It was a busy day.