So close, and yet so far - a true story in many parts - part 3

"The memory is like a knife; it hurts."

It has been quite quiet on the boat this week past. My claims for support and housing have been submitted, so there is little to concern myself with. I am gradually feeling better in myself - my physical state seems to be improving, nevertheless, I sometimes feel the onset of depression, which is hardly surprising after the battering my psychology has taken after years of active alcoholism. Unless I want to get the proverbial whip out, self-flagellate, and ruminate, the best course of action for me is to phone a friend, and share; I don't have that many friends, but those I do reach out to somehow manage to redirect my 'stinking thinking' to my centre, to my breathing, and to the only moment in time that matters, the present moment.

The eternal moment aside, this Tuesday I managed to get some coal in - £8 for a 25-kilo bag. With temperatures dropping even more, the oil heater, which served when the Indian summer still lingered, is insufficient unless you are practically sitting on it. Anyhow, on my way back from a meeting of AA, I bought some kindling, some firelighters, and then I set about lighting a proper fire. Gazing into a burning fire has often been a pastime of mine over the years as I have travelled - it helps me to reminisce, to make decisions, and makes for a silent, yet reassuring, companion.

As I write of reassuring companions, the memory of my mother springs to mind. Barry was a daughter of the Raj. Born in 1936 in Cawnpore, Uttar Pradesh, India to Basil and Kathleen Gray, Barry had a privileged, if unorthodox background. Word has it that she could shoot, swear, fight, and ride like a man, and that, like many redheads, she had a fearsome temper, as well as a wicked sense of humour (more on this subject later).

Basil, Barry's father, made his fortune from exporting jute, whilst Kathleen was head of the Women's Royal Voluntary Service in India, a position she held until the surrender of the Japanese, and prior to India's being granted independence in 1946. In recognition of her endeavours, and those of her staff who provided succor, companionship, and entertainment for the troops on R&R from the military campaigns against the Japanese in Burma, she was made a Dame of the British Empire.

The above details are important as they may offer the reader a backdrop to the absolute shock my family, and those other representatives of the British Establishment must have experienced when 'India was lost', and the British colonialists were summarily forced to quit India by any means possible, and post haste.

Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) became the Gray's next place of residence, where Basil set up offices in the capital, Salisbury. In order to finish her education, Barry was sent to Lowther College, a girl's boarding school located in Wales, a school, which, by all accounts, granted more freedom that was customary in the early fifties. I imagine this largesse suited Barry's character and personality admirably for by the time she had reached the sixth form, she had already met Robert whilst on a visit to London to catch a show in the West End. The rest, as the saying goes, is history!!

God only knows how, but my grandfather got wind of this liaison, and promptly engaged the services of a private detective to investigate the matter at hand. It was only a matter of time before it transpired that Robert came from a family of some repute, however, he had also served time at Her Majesty's pleasure. I have it on good authority that my grandfather's reaction to this news was to send a stern letter to my mother demanding an explanation, as well as threatening Barry with disinheritance if she continued seeing Robert.

Robert and Barry were married in the summer of 1956. True to Edwardian form, Basil and Kathleen were not in attendance at the wedding, and, indeed, my mother (an only child) was cut off. Money was tight by all accounts. Nonetheless, Robert had his acting parts to fall back on, and the movie business was flourishing at Eltstree and Pinewood, so my parents rented a small two-bedroomed house near the studios, in the village of Wishpond.

To be continued ........