Part 5 - Feel the Love Peggy's days at Oxford were among the happiest of her life, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, there was the freedom of living at Somerville college, rather than in the restrictive atmosphere of Number 2, Weaverhead Close, Thaxted. Father could be so reactionary! Secondly, there was the intellectual thrill of studying law, of examining cases and precedents and the structure and formation of the law itself. Thirdly, there was the broader intellectual thrill of Oxford, the student societies and activities. Foremost of these was the Labour Club. It was there Peggy began 'the Programme' with a cell of likeminded students, an attempt to restore the Labour Party to its true Socialist roots. Not Fabian socialism, that sterile offspring of George Bernard Shaw and Lord Passfield, with its gradualism and its in-the-long-runs. But true, revolutionary socialism, of the kind betrayed by the Tankies of the CPGB and their slavish devotion to Stalinist bureaucracy. Peggy felt lucky to be in Oxford at all. When she had first sat her exams in 1943 she was told that she had not won her scholarship. She had been forced to spend a further year at Saffron Walden Girl's Grammar. She won her elusive scholarship the following year and in late August 1944 found herself at Somerville college, Oxford. Peggy faced the prospect of only being able to study a two year wartime degree, as should would be called up for national service after she had turned twenty. Then, in May 1945 something wonderful happened. Hitler was defeated and the war was over. Oh, there was still some fighting out East but for all intents and purposes there was peace. It also meant that the threat of national service was removed and she could complete her law degree. Peace meant changes at the University. Many demobbed servicemen came to the college, to continue or take up studies. Some of these joined the Labour Club. This was where Peggy met Jimmy.

It wasn't just demobbed servicemen coming to Oxford at wars end. With the Atlantic safe to cross, wealthy American parents could once again send their heirs to Oxford, a school that had more cachet in those days than either Harvard or Yale. One such heiress was Caroline Middleton de Camp. "If you're not a radical socialist with strong Marxist tendencies at age 20 you haven't a heart," as Guisot so nearly said.[1] And Caroline Middleton de Camp was certainly a big-hearted woman. Big-hearted she may be, but she was so illogical thought Peggy. Caroline's criticism of Marxists was that they were 'sectarian'; unable to respect or truly cooperate with others on the left. The debacle of Spain, the betrayal of the followers of Durutti, the inept Molitov-Ribbentrop pact - these all showed the damage Communists could cause when they made opportunistic alliances or betrayals rather than showing solidarity with other working class movements. The flaws Caroline had advanced were not of Marxism, of course, but of that perversion of Marxism - Stalinism. Peggy responded by noting that there could only be one best way to advance the interests of the working class and that, scientifically, was Marxism. The other ideologies of other movements were by definition inferior and had to be supplanted. "If you really believe that, Peggy, why do you belong to the Labour Club and not the Trotskyist Club?" Caroline asked, not unreasonably. "The ideology of the Labour Party must inevitably become Marxist," Peggy explained, "yet until we achieve this historically inevitable position the Labour Party is still the largest mass-movement working class organisation in Britain. If we are to achieve True Socialism the easiest path is through the Labour Party." One thing Caroline and Peggy did agree on was that the Atlee government represented, at best, a step in the right direction and that the government's implementation of their manifesto could in no wise be described as True Socialism. It was from this conversation that a certain cooling occurred in the friendship between these two gownswomen. It may have been due to Peggy's adversarial, entryist attitude to the Labour Party. Or it could be due to Jimmy.

Jimmy was attracted to both Peggy and Caroline. Peggy was prettier but Caroline was ideologically closer. An older Jimmy could have made the choice more easily. But at 20 he still had a residue of the raging hormones of adolescence and both women seemed desirable. There was plenty to be said for Peggy. Intelligent, attractive, articulate, socialist and female. What was not to like? Peggy cast a far more calculating eye at Jimmy. He was wet, truly no more than a Fabian no matter how much he protested the label. He was also... someone charitable might call him eccentric. Alfred Roberts would call him 'cracked'. But the Hon Anthony Wedgwood Benn represented entrée into a world of privilege and power. But Jimmy liked Caroline and Caroline liked him. Who to invite to the Commem Ball? Jimmy had rather made up his mind to invite Caroline. Kenneth Harris, along with Edward Boyle one of Jimmy's close friends at Oxford, urged him to take exactly that course. And so he did. Edward tried to invite Peggy to the same ball but she declined, perhaps from disappointment, perhaps from pique or perhaps... she had other plans. "Cheer up, we'll just have to go as a couple of old bachelors!" said Kenneth to Edward.

Jimmy thought he would be going to the ball with Caroline but, Alas! it was not to be. Caroline took hot chocolate with Peggy beforehand and then suffered the most terrible gastric distress. It was Peggy who had to be Jimmy's stand-in date that night. As luck would have it, Peggy had only had her hair coiffured that morning and had the day before put her hoarded clothing coupons towards a stunning evening gown. Everyone applauded as she swept into the ballroom on the arm of Jimmy. Jimmy had eyes only for his partner. "Can you feel the love tonight?" Kenneth asked Edward. Edward laughed and the two burst into song:     "And if he falls in love tonight      It can be assumed      His carefree days with us are history      In short, our pal is doomed!"[2]

In time Peggy would grow to love Jimmy, in an abstractly fond way. She had always been influenced by elder men, her father, the Rev Skinner, the late Father Conrad Noel. Jimmy was her own age but he seemed older, almost fogeyish. Had his RAF service aged him? Or the loss of his brother in the war? The loss of Michael struck doubly hard. Jimmy had ambitions, lofty ambitions. After gaining Peggy's promise not to laugh, he told her of his plans for the Number 10. Peggy nearly broke her promise. But, explained Jimmy, these promises had been dashed. Jimmy's father, William, had consulted with his family before accepting an offer of a peerage. Michael, his heir, had offered no objection. Jimmy had a clear tilt at a Commons seat in the future. But now, as the heir presumptive of the Viscount Stansgate, that put the whole enterprise under a cloud. His father's eventual death was a Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Peggy explained that the Cause was more important than individual ambition. And while William still lived there was no reason Jimmy couldn't pursue a Commons career. Jimmy conceded this was true but doubt and worry still gnawed at his heart. The relationship led to a reconciliation, of sorts, with Peggy's father. Alfred Roberts saw the Wedgwood Benns as a good noble family, albeit arrivistes. More importantly, they were reputedly good Methodists, which was a sight better than that Romish crowd Margaret had been moving with in Thaxted. The choice of the Rev Charles Skinner as the celebrant at their marriage was just one extra delight for Alfred and Beatrice. Edward and Kenneth came to the wedding. Caroline was invited but she had already returned to America. Later she would enter the Catholic church and marry into a prominent Boston family. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] "Not to be a republican at twenty is proof of want of heart; to be one at thirty is proof of want of head." - Francois Guisot (1787-1874) Remember that 'Republican' had a different meaning 150 years ago so please, no political flames. [2] This became one of the great drinking songs of Oxford University before *Tim Rice and *Andrew Lloyd-Webber immortalised it in the musical "The Lyin' King" the fairytale story of London Lord Mayor *Jeffrey Archer.