One night I was at the Theatre with Norah, and sitting next to me was a soldier. We talked during the interval and commented about the show, and he asked if he could see me home. I explained that I was going home with Norah. However we arranged to meet the next night.
His name was Lloyd Gordon Reeves, and he was stationed at Crewe Hall for a while. He too came from London. He was one of four children whose parents had died when they were very young. All the children, two boys two girls, had gone to foster parents, but had kept in touch with each 0ther. The others were married. Lloyd was the youngest, so his home was still with his foster parents, Bob and Maggie Balaam. They were like real parents to him and the caring was mutual on both sides.
We went to the pictures several times, and then he was due for a leave, so Maggie wrote to me and asked me to come to London with Lloyd to stay with them. It was early summer and I was able to get a week’s holiday from work. So off we went. They lived at 97 Brownlow Road New Southgate. The tube station was Bounds Green.
The road was wide and tree-lined, and the houses were large and well kept. Bob and Maggie greeted us with warm hugs and I felt very welcome. Their home had been converted into two flats. They had the top floor and their daughter Nora and her husband Eric Pye and their little boy, also Eric, lived on the ground floor. Eric was away in the R. A. F. The rooms were spacious, and Nora and Eric’s sitting room had French windows opening on to a lovely garden. Each flat had its own kitchen and bathroom and lots of rooms besides. Bob worked for the Post Office, I don’t know what his job was but it must have been fairly well paid. Their home was well cared for and beautifully furnished. They obviously regarded Lloyd as a son.
His older brother Dorian, known as Dobbin, (they all had nicknames except Lloyd) lived near Alexandra Palace. We went to see them and Dobbin said, Eric is on leave, you will go to see him Lloyd, won’t you?” “Of course,” said Lloyd, “we’ll go tomorrow”. “You won’t find it easy”, said Dobbin, “he won’t come to any of us, just spends his leave alone in the house.” Lloyd explained that his sister, Toddy and her husband Eric and little boy lived in Muswell Hill and one day just before the war, she was out shopping with the little boy, nearly two, in a pushchair. An enormous ‘Macfisheries’ Van went out of control, mounted the pavement and Toddy and the baby were killed. Lloyd said that all the family were devastated by the tragedy and had tried to comfort Eric. He was called up for the Air Force at the start of the war, and as he was on leave, we went to see him in Muswell Hill. The house was large, probably Victorian. It seemed very gloomy, due to the fact that all the curtains were partially drawn. Eric received us quite pleasantly and went to make tea. While we were having the tea Lloyd asked him if he would be visiting Dobbin or Tiny (the other sister). No, said Eric, ” I just want to stay here”. “Do you ever play now?” said Lloyd, looking at a beautiful grand piano at the other side of the room. “Oh yes, I play all day, its a comfort, 1 can lose myself in the music” “Will you play now”? Said Lloyd. I shall never forget that lonely man in his air force uniform, sitting there playing the most beautiful music, one thing I recognized was Sindings “Rustle of Spring” I never hear it even now without thinking of that tragic young man.
We went to visit other friends including Bob and Mary Brown. They lived in Gallants Farm Road New Barnet. We also went all round the City including climbing the 300 and odd steps to the top of ‘St Paul’s’ and the ‘Whispering Gallery’. That is quite remarkable. Your companion goes right across to the other side of the gallery, turns to the wall behind him and quietly whispers a message. It sounds as though he is whispering in your ear, every word clearly audible! We went into Hyde Park and along the Mal1. Of course everywhere was somberly geared for wartime. All buildings sandbagged and windows criss-crossed with tape. When dusk fell a terrible blackness was everywhere. It did not stop us from going dancing at Covent Garden (the ballroom, not the Opera House!) Coming home to Bounds Green on the tube we saw all the tube stations with tiers of bunks with people settling down for the night. Incidentally there was a lull in the bombing and we did not have a raid that week. We went to sit in Alexandra Palace gardens. Bob had proudly shown me the television that they had bought just before the war; they had actually seen ‘pictures’. The set had to remain an ornament for the ‘duration’ of course. Lloyd was so pleased to show me ‘his London’. I suppose you could say that we were young enough to make the best of things; we certainly had a lot of fun. My life may have followed a very different pattern had it not been that fate stepped in. A few weeks later, Lloyd was sent ‘abroad’ he was killed at Singapore. Maggie wrote to tell me and I went to spend a week with her and Bob.