WOODCROFT

The property of Woodcroft lay immediately to the north of Knowle with which its building must have been about contemporary, though of a less robust nature. Rendered and white on the exterior, its frontage was relatively narrow, the emphasis being on the south-facing living rooms set to great advantage on the raised ground of the upper ridge of the village.

For me, and I am writing of the 1920s to about 1950, by which time I was married and away from Cuckfield, this house always had an air of mystery. I remember no activity whatsoever associated with the lodge at the gateway, and the gates were even closed from time to time. Perhaps the long, slightly narrow, drive with its very tall lime trees was a bit daunting, though the bulbs beneath them in spring, followed by the scent of the tree blossom and the noise of bees enjoying it, and then the cyclamen that grew hidden under the shrubs on the grassy front garden, made it quite exciting. The very solid front door seemed to overwhelm one’s arrival, and the kitchen windows adjacent to it (with strong white bars), seemed dark and sinister as they skulked, more or less hidden, behind the shrubs that were meant to conceal them. In the early days the paint was dirty and peeling.

When I first became aware of this house it was owned by an elderly gentleman who then died. There was a large cedar of Lebanon in the garden behind the lodge to the left of the driveway, and this was blown down in a gale, which seemed to me, melodramatically and symbolically, to be at exactly the same time. We were taken to see this and my brother collected a cone from the fallen giant for his ‘museum’. It was all quite sinister to a young child, especially as the house then became unoccupied, lying empty and deserted behind shut gates.

However, the Misses Campbell arrived to take over the quite elegant, yet not too large a place, very suitable for spinster sisters who had known better days. The paintwork was renewed, as were the gates, and the whole place perked up.

Miss Hilda, the elder, was always known as Miss Campbell, her younger sister being Miss Elsie Campbell. They were delightful, kindly, and (to me) elderly ladies with soft Scottish accents, and Miss Elsie laughed all the time at everything said, so it seemed, with a high tinkling laugh. Curiously, like their neighbour Colonel Wallinger, Miss Elsie also had an artificial leg which, for being visible, was a source of great curiosity. It was beautifully constructed with shoes and stockings exactly to match those on its owner’s real leg! Miss Elsie also had her spectacles and various other things hanging around her neck, which moved and mixed together quite elegantly. She was of slight stature and very neat, always wearing clothes of pastel shades. Her elder sister was darker in colouring, quieter, more serious. I’m sure she was the one who managed their affairs, but it was the younger sister who was centre stage. They had Pekingese dogs that fussed around and were very important in the lives of the sisters, and a grey parrot in a large cage that was, I think, more of Miss Hilda’s interest.

Whereas we would visit Knowle by opening the front door and calling ‘Coo-ee’, visits to Woodcroft were very formal. A wait on the doorstep after the bell had been pulled, and then a short walk led by the maid, along the rather narrow hall with its closed doors to the only open door - to the drawing room. But, once arrived there, all was welcome, bright light and tinkling laugh. A greeting from the dogs, a kiss to each lady, a talk with the parrot and sit down to converse.

It may well have been that the architect who designed Knowle was also involved in the construction of Woodcroft, for there were great similarities in the proportional height of the room and pattern of windows of the drawing rooms of both houses. A tall window and then an adjacent bay window faced south, and a door with a half glass panel on the west wall that gave on to the garden. But Woodcroft was smaller though, as at Knowle, giving a very Edwardian feeling in its furnishings. And prominent on the north wall, over the fireplace, was a large watercolour painting of the former childhood home of the Misses Campbell - a very imposing, very large and grand house somewhere in Scotland. I think they still rather yearned for their lost life-style, though for many years, in addition to their Cuckfield home, they still maintained a house in Eaton Square in London, to which they disappeared annually, at least until the outbreak of war, for the ‘Season’.

When we sat down, I was always detailed to talk to Miss Hilda Campbell, while my mother and perhaps my younger sister spoke with Miss Elsie. I always felt I had the worst of the bargain, for I was attracted by the outward gaiety of the younger sister. However, the elder was gentle, and maybe a bit shy, but always interested in whatever news I offered. Then tea, if it was afternoon, would be brought in and conversation became general.

Sometimes we walked in the garden, but never too far for Miss Elsie found walking slow, and a bit difficult with the two sticks she needed to help her. Always, on going into the garden, we were straightway invited to look at Chanctonbury Ring, a large stand of trees on the north face of the South Downs above Steyning that was planted to mark Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. It was said in those days, and before the gales of 1987 and 1989 demolished the trees, that every really good house in Sussex had a view of Chanctonbury, and the Misses Campbell were very proud of theirs, which was quite uninterrupted from their relatively high ground. From the drawing room, a gravel path went towards the west, with a slope of grass on the left and a high wall on the right, in front of which was a broad, well maintained herbaceous border. I assumed there was a kitchen garden behind the wall but this was not a garden for running in or for tree exploring. We walked sedately for a short distance and then returned to the house.

I do not know to what extent the Misses Campbell integrated into the community. Miss Hilda certainly told me of her weekly visits to the ‘Workhouse’ (as the old Infirmary was then known) and how the inmates she visited liked Titbits - a weekly magazine or paper that she always took for them but which I doubt if she ever looked at herself. Certainly I never saw a copy of it! But the sisters were full of kindly thoughts and were determined to give me my first grown-up dinner party. It was a lovely evening with a table of perhaps ten people especially for me. I had a long dress for the occasion and all the formalities were followed to the letter. A lovely memory.

Miss Hilda pre-deceased her sister, perhaps not surprisingly since it was always said of her that she was ‘delicate’. When Miss Elsie died, I was very moved to learn that I had been remembered in their wills, and I regularly use a bracelet that recalls for me two dear elderly sisters who chose to move to Cuckfield, out of all England and Scotland, to see out their rather lonely lives.