Part 2 - Hunger "Hunger, to a certain extent, is a very good thing." -- Sir F. Fremantle MP (Cons.) Hansard, November 1936

In the end it was the blue uniforms that did it. Muriel had long desired to defy her parents' wishes by attending St John's. The local chapel was dying on its feet. If the Bishop's Stortford Methodist Circuit could be considered a chain then the Thaxted chapel was, to coin a phrase, the weakest link. Anyway, most of Muriel's friends from Saffron Walden Girl's Grammar, that she and Peggy attended, worshipped at St John's. The ones that lived in Thaxted, anyway. Yet Muriel, liked most teenaged girls, was a collectivist. She had no desire to strike out on her own but needed an ally in her delicate struggle with her parents. Her younger sister was her desired partner. But Peggy was not the sort of eleven year-old to defy parents such as Alfred and Beatrice. Not even the opportunity to spend more time with her SWGG friends. So Muriel mentioned the Girls' Friendly Society. She made it sound as exciting as Alfred's stories of his Rotary club. The clincher was the blue uniforms. Even as a toddler Peggy's favourite colour had been blue. Blue was the hue of Kesteven and Grantham Girl's School, of blessed memory. Peggy's new SWGG uniform was a horrid mustard. At the dinner table that night, Peggy had asked if she might join the Girls' Friendly society. Beatrice was unsure. The Roberts were a good Methodist family. Peggy explained that the GFS was "international, non-profit organisation for girls and young women, with membership open to girls from the ages of 7 - 21 of any race, religion, or nationality[1]". Alfred was delighted. It sounded just like good old Rotary.

Wednesday evenings at St John's hall were not a problem. Peggy and Muriel attended for three weeks and were inducted into a program of crafts, games, storytelling, prayer and sisterhood. As well as meeting with friends from SWGG they also made new friends from girls who attended the local school or one of the many Chelmsford schools. The sisters learned that once a month the GFS would have a 'church parade' with their male equivalent, the Church of England Boys Society. The next such parade would on the twenty-third. Muriel and Peggy asked if the family could worship at St John the Baptist, Our Lady and St Lawrence's that Sunday, instead of the normal morning service at the Chapel. Alfred was feeling a little peeved that although a lay preacher, the Rev. Wakeman still hadn't invited him to address the congregation. So, against his better judgement he agreed.

The sermon as St John's was pure communism, of course. Alfred and Beatrice had expected nothing less. This was the 1930s. Most padres had a reddish tinge. Even the Roberts' family friend, the Rev. Charles Skinner, was prominent in the 'Peace Ballot' movement. But the friendship with the Rev. Skinner and his wife were based on common ties of religion, not politics. Alfred Roberts was a strong believer in re-armament. The British had taught the Red Bolsheviks a lesson in 1919 but the Liberal government had not allowed the Tommies to stay behind to finish the job[2]. The day of reckoning with Stalin and the other dictators was coming and Britain had to be ready. So it wasn't the marxism in the homily to which Alfred objected. When the Rev Conrad Noel said, "We must create the demand for the Catholic Faith, the whole Catholic Faith, and nothing but the Catholic Faith. We must encourage the rising of the people in the might of the Risen Christ and the Saints, mingling Heaven and earth that we may shatter this greedy world to bits!" Alfred could cope with 'rising of the people' and 'shatter this greedy world to bits'. One expected that in church. But why all this capital-C 'Catholic' stuff? On top of that there was all the business the Rev Noel did with the hood of his alb. The candles. Taking the Holy Bible walkies. And calling Holy Communion 'the Mass' instead of 'the Lord's Supper' as God had intended. After the pantomime was over, and they were leaving the magnificent building, Alfred steeled himself to shake the vicar's hand. "Call me Father Conrad." That was it. When the family was standing by the car he announced, "We are never going to that terrible place again." Muriel went white. Beatrice looked about to say something but bit her lip. But Peggy surprised them all. "I hate you!" she shouted at Alfred, burst into tears and ran down the lane. Alfred was about to run after her but Beatrice gave him a why-did-you-do-that look and placed a warning hand on his arm. "Margaret is running toward home, let's just follow her in the car." It was an odd procession. By the time the vehicle had caught up with Peggy, her pace had slowed to a rapid walk. Hot tears were still running down her cheeks. She refused her mother's entreaties to enter the car. And so Peggy and the car proceeded to the Roberts' home at a walking pace. Inside the car, an accommodation was being reached between Muriel and her parents. The girls could continue to attend GFS. They could attend St John's for church parade but no more than one Sunday a month and not when it was a 'special occasion' at the chapel. Muriel rolled her eyes in the back seat and thought the 1930s equivalent of 'as if'. She was sure the Thaxted chapel hadn't had a special occasion since 1927. Once home, Peggy ran to her room before her father could order her there. After luncheon Muriel sneaked upstairs to explain the modus vivendi that had been reached with their parents. Peggy joined the rest of the family for cold supper that night and nothing more was said about her outburst of the morning. Nor did she share the thoughts that had been flowing through her head that hungry afternoon.

The next Wednesday Muriel and Peggy attended GFS once more. Mrs Noel introduced the curate, Father Jack Putterill, who told the girls about the Spanish Civil War. The real story, not what they might have been reading in the newspapers. They mustn't think the Republicans were opposed to the teachings of Christ, oh no. It was still light as the girls were trudging home. "Isn't he dishy?" asked Muriel. "Who?" began Peggy, without thinking. "Oh, Father Jack. He's not as clever as Father Conrad. Do you remember last Sunday when Father Conrad said 'In the battles that will have to be fought against the forces of death, whether frankly reactionary or masquerading as State Socialism and Social Reform, we must ally ourselves with the forces of life, and with St. Ambrose of Milan, with St. Thomas of Canterbury, with Our Lady of the Magnificat.'?" Muriel yawned. "Yes, I remember. But Margaret, you'll find there comes a time when you better remember how a man looks than what he says." Peggy trembled with revulsed foreboding. Could one be more concerned with outward appearance than with what people thought, who people really were? What a horrid thought. When she grew up she would endeavour to be on guard against such superficiality. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] This is consistent with http://www.gfsusa.org/ . However, in the less inclusive 1930s the GFS may have been more sectarian, in which case young Peggy is being economical with the truth. [2] In 1919 David Lloyd-George led a coalition government which was primarily Conservative. However Alfred Roberts, a lifelong Conservative, appears to believe that appeasement is always somebody else's fault.