Enid Blyton (16 page)

There was still a considerable amount of decoration needed before the family could move in, so it was not until the end of August that Enid was able to tell her readers that she was actually living in her new home and that she had written a poem to mark the event:

Perhaps Enid and Hugh intended to ‘build’ and strengthen their marriage in their new home. On the timber beam of the front doorway, a former owner had carved
Pax huic domui
and Enid decided the inscription should remain there for, as she explained later, on describing Green Hedges in her autobiography, ‘all homes should be happy, peaceful places’ – but for Hugh it was to be associated with one of the unhappiest periods of his life.

The first autumn at Green Hedges got off to a bad start when the whole family developed influenza and once again Hugh had a bout of pneumonia – though not as serious as during the summer. Hugh was, however, very worried about the international situation and became even more sure, after the Munich crisis, that – despite Chamberlain’s assurances – the country would soon be at war. Enid dismissed his fears as groundless, and refused to believe he was serious when he expressed his willingness to be called up as a reserve officer should the need arise. She never liked to have the pattern of her life disturbed and, at that time, everything seemed to be running smoothly. She now had room in the house for a cook as well as a general maid and it was easier than ever to delegate all her domestic affairs, the management of her daughters and the care of her pets and concentrate fully on her writing. The large garden was tended by a new gardener, a Mr Tapping, for Dick Hughes had been left behind at Old Thatch.

Many of Enid’s friends were also ‘left behind’ at Bourne End, for she only kept in close touch with one or two after she moved house. Dorothy was one of the few people whose friendship she really valued and their close relationship had remained unchanged over the years. Since his illness, Hugh seemed more willing to accept that Enid needed both of them to ensure her happiness: Dorothy to provide a stabilising influence and Hugh to be father to her children and a husband upon whose deep love and affection she knew she could always rely. At no time would she let herself believe that events outside this small, cosy world might change the course of all their lives.

By the beginning of 1939 she was working harder than ever. In addition to the regular items for
Teachers’ World
and
Sunny Stories
– both read by ‘hundreds of thousands of children’, according to one critic of the time – she was compiling school readers, books of plays and putting many of her serial and other stories from her magazines into book form. She tried to interest the BBC in broadcasting some of her work but nothing came of this, despite the fact that both she and Hugh repeatedly sent in material they considered suitable for the children’s programmes. But she had few rejections elsewhere, for most publishers seemed only too willing to take what she had to offer.

Her routine day began early and the pattern had changed little over the years. Soon after breakfast, if she was at home and not consulting publishers in London, she would first give instructions to her cook on the family’s meals and then start writing on the verandah overlooking the garden, or in an armchair by the fire, with her typewriter poised, as always, on a board across her knees and her red silk Moroccan shawl close at hand. She liked to have red near her for the colour acted, she thought, as a ‘mental stimulus’. She had usually written between six and ten thousand words by five o’clock, with only a short break for lunch on a tray, during which she would read one of the many books she obtained weekly from two libraries. Then it was time for the children.

This was the hour her daughters enjoyed most during the day, for Enid would play games or read stories with them, all the while listening carefully to what they had to tell her. On summer evenings they would go out into the garden and play with the animals or listen for and try to identify some of the birds round about. Both girls liked to hear about the stories she had written during the day – particularly if they included Amelia Jane, or one of the family pets. Enid was quick to note that Gillian’s and Imogen’s favourite stories were often those which were eventually to prove the most popular with her other readers, and it is interesting to note that as the years passed, so did the proportion of books for their age group increase. As the girls grew older they were sometimes entrusted with reading proofs and earned themselves a penny for every mistake they spotted.

Hugh’s return home was usually the signal for the ‘playtime’ sessions with her daughters to come to an end and Hugh and Enid would then have a quiet dinner alone together. Afterwards she would set about answering some of her vast correspondence, which still ran to hundreds of letters each week. Occasionally she would take an evening off for a game of tennis or bridge or to visit a cinema or theatre with Hugh. But they generally retired early, for Enid always maintained that her active brain needed plenty of sleep to keep the story line flowing.

She would allow little to interfere with this strict, daily pattern which she had set for herself and visitors were often made to feel unwelcome if they brought about any change in her routine.

In the early summer a new maid arrived at Green Hedges. Mary was an attractive, auburn-haired Austrian girl, who had been forced by the crisis in her country to leave her comfortable home in Vienna and seek safety and work in England. Although Mary had never undertaken any form of domestic work before, she was bright, intelligent and willing and was soon helping with all manner of jobs around the house. She assisted the cook, stood in for the nanny on her day off – even did a little typing for Enid on occasions – and after a while became more friend than servant to the whole family.

Enid was at her best with people she liked and she went to endless trouble to ensure that Mary’s stay at Green Hedges should be happy, for she realised that there were times when her young maid felt very lost and homesick. She managed to get a letter through to Vienna to let Mary’s parents know that she was in good hands and would be well looked after. She also wrote to the Home Office to say that she would take the responsibility of looking after Mary’s parents should they decide to come to England but by the time both letters had been received, the rest of Europe was at war. Mary never forgot Enid’s kindness at this time and remained a loyal friend throughout the stormy and eventful years that were to follow. After she left the family in 1945, Enid based ‘Greta, the Austrian maid’ in
House at the Corner
on this young woman who had a special place in the family’s affections.

Enid and Bobs both broke the news to their readers of
Teachers’ World
that their country was at war. Bobs ‘wrote’:

Enid’s letter was more explicit about the changes that were now inevitable. Many of her readers had been evacuated into strange surroundings and these children received her special attention. For a while, she told them, her page would not be quite so large and she would have to cut down on her weekly story:

She continued in the same vein, the following week, having heard through her correspondence of the problems that were being encountered:

There followed a description of some of the poisonous fruits the children might come across on country walks, and she finished her letter with a gentle reminder to all her readers:

In a later column she wrote of the ‘many happy letters’ she had received from town children who were now living in the country:

Her mail in war-time did not appear to decrease – rather the contrary. Evacuated teachers and children wrote in their hundreds asking for advice on country matters and many schools took up her suggestions for contributions to the war effort. By early 1941 Enid had already distributed to the Red Cross and other organisations over three thousand blankets, made from squares knitted by her readers. These were usually sewn together by the teachers but Enid made up many of the blankets herself with the help of any members of her household who happened to be available. In the spring of that same year she wrote of having received during the past few weeks – in addition to the usual quota of blankets:

She encouraged the children to ‘Dig for Victory’, as Gillian was doing by having vegetable gardens in place of flower beds. Sacks of silver paper and used stamps for the Red Cross continued to arrive at regular intervals. Among the many packages that arrived, several were intended for Enid herself. She had only to mention that her doves were short of seed, or that she was having difficulty in obtaining pet food, for wild seeds and recipes for making dog biscuits or cat food to be sent to her by every post during the week that followed.

She was often called upon to open school fund-raising activities and at one of these – a War WeaponsÙ Week sale – she found herself presented with an assortment of small packages to take home, the contents of which suggested that the pupils and staff were regular followers of her columns. There were bones for Bobs and biscuits for the other dogs, tins of sardines for the cats, seeds for her pigeons and chickens and sweets for Gillian and Imogen. There were also a tin of peaches and homemade cream for Enid herself and two sacks of silver paper. In return she donated three of her Siamese kittens and there was great competition for their ownership.

When her fox terrier, Sandy, disappeared from Green Hedges early in 1941 and she mentioned the fact to her readers, a teacher sent a black, white and brown smooth-haired terrier as a replacement and from then on the mischievous ‘Topsy’ was featured regularly in both her
Teachers’ World
columns and
Sunny Stories.

There had been no great changes at Green Hedges during the very early months of the war, for Hugh was at that time still working at Newnes and Enid’s domestic staff remained the same. Her cook, whose husband subsequently died on active service, was allowed to have her small son, Kenneth, living in with her at the house and after a while his exploits, too, were described at length in her columns, along with those of Gillian, Imogen and the pets. With a full household, she was able to tell the billeting officer that there was no room at Green Hedges for evacuees, and that she needed her staff to allow her to carry out what she considered to be her own particular form of war work – writing for children – and there was certainly no let-up for her in this direction.

After the invasion of Norway, newsprint was rationed and even typing paper was not so easily come by. Publishing houses were struggling for existence at the time and crucial decisions were having to be made over which publications were to be retained. But, for Enid at least, this presented no problem. The managing director of George Newnes was still the shrewd Herbert Tingay, who had long ago gauged her worth to his company, and it was his decision that ensured the continuation of
Sunny Stories
throughout the war years.
Teachers’ World
– along with its regular weekly feature from Green Hedges – was also retained by Evans Brothers and Mr Allen, who continued as its editor, accepted any other contributions Enid cared to make to his magazine. The stories from both these publications were still reproduced in book form at the same rate as pre-war, and other publishers appeared only too happy to add Enid’s name to their lists.

During 1940 alone, eleven books were published under her name, including:
The Secret of Spiggy Holes
(which like its fore-runner,
The Secret Island,
had previously appeared in serial form in
Sunny Stories): Twenty-Minute Tales
and
Tales of Betsy May,
both collections of short stories for Methuen;
The Children of Cherry Tree Farm,
published by
Country Life,
and a story book annual for the
News Chronicle.
The remainder were brought out by George Newnes, who continued as Enid’s main publishers. In addition to those listed by the company under her own name during that year were two others –
Three Boys and a Circus
and
Children of Kidillin
– which appeared under the pseudonym of Mary Pollock. This subterfuge, however, was to have unexpected and amusing consequences. So popular did these books become that one reviewer was prompted to remark that ‘Enid Blyton had better look to her laurels’ – but the children who read these stories were not deceived. They very quickly realised that the two authors were, in fact, the same and wrote letters of complaint to Enid and the publishers. The whole matter led to such confusion that it was eventually decided to reissue these and two other subsequent ‘Mary Pollock’ books under her own name.