Tenants at No 6

THE TENANTS OF NO. 6 CLIFFORD CHAMBERS

Cyril Green and his wife lived at No. 6. His wife was the cook at the Manor when she married Cyril, but no-one is sure if Cyril also worked for the Manor. Their only child, Tony was born at No. 6..

There was a lot of muttering though, when during the 2nd World War petrol was rationed, AND Cyril would drive his wife the short distance from their house to the Church each Sunday for the service. “Petrol,” the mutterers told each other, “was for emergency vehicles and goods – not for taking your wife to Church on a Sunday when everyone else has to walk!”

When I met Mrs. Green, she seemed to me, to have difficulty in both walking and breathing – but this was some 30 odd years later. Maybe though, her trouble had started in early marriage.

(Sometime either late 1950's early 60's, Cyril acquired a piece of land on a corner part of a field opposite Red Hill Drive, and had a house built on it.

Their son Tony, now married, also managed to acquire the tennis courts and built a bungalow on it. They were not quite next door to each other, for Miss Wilding's house came in between the two, but near enough for Tony to keep an eye on his ageing parents. )

Sometime after the Greens left No. 6, the Halliday family moved in – and after they left, we had a delightful couple move in, Mr. & Mrs. King. Their family had grown up, and they felt how nice it would be finish their days in a beautiful and quiet village.

Mr. King 'finished his days' long before his wife did. He was buried in the Churchyard here, and Mrs. King filled her life with gardening, W.I. and all the other organizations going on. She was a delightful person to know, and very interesting to talk to.

But one slippery icy evening, when it was dark, she stepped out to her back garden 'just to do something' without taking a coat, slipped on the ice and fell.

It was such a cold night, everyone else was tucked safely indoors by the fire, but eventually Rosemary Bailey went into her kitchen and heard some faint shouting. She stopped and listened; called her husband, and he listened. They thought they could hear the word “Help!”

Mrs. King, some days after, with her broken leg in plaster sticking out from her wheelchair declared “Well it is all my fault. For one thing, I should have wrapped myself up. And another, I should have taken my stick with me.” But she was still able to laugh at her stupidity, and be thankful for her lovely and caring neighbours.

Her son made an annex for her next to his house, and she left the village to live near her family.