During the Easter holidays in 1990 my husband, children and I visited England from South Africa. We wanted to see if, financially, we could settle in this country. The violence in Johannesburg was creeping ever closer and burglar bars, high spiked walls and guard dogs were becoming the norm. We had a good quantity of life but the quality was fast diminishing.
My husband’s grandmother lived in Haslemere in Surrey. We were spending a few days with her before going back to his parents in Leeds. One cold morning we set off for what was the children and my first ever trip to London. We agreed to take the children to Hamleys before going on to other places of interest. Only being there for one day we needed to make the most of our time and build up as many memories as possible.
We had borrowed my father in law’s car so my husband drove to Turnham Green station and we caught a train into central London. I was feeling very anxious. What would happen if we lost one of the children? My husband suggested that they head back to Turnham Greene station. They had sufficient taxi fare. We repeated this a few times and also as we walked into Hamleys. None of us had mobile phones. Had they even been invented?
I felt anxious walking through London. There were crowds of people milling around which I found quite daunting. I hung onto my husband’s hand and kept a close eye on the children in front of us. I hooked my handbag tightly under my arm with the strap over my shoulder. I had the money, car keys and our traveller’s cheques. This is how I walked around in South Africa, always on my guard. I had been on a number of safety aware courses so usually held the car keys in my hand with the keys facing outwards. If I was attacked I could force them into the attacker’s face.
Hamleys was fascinating. I began to relax and actually enjoy the experience! We were on the fifth floor when my husband vanished. At first I wasn’t too bothered as he had this habit of wandering off and then remembering that he was not on his own. We waited a while and then I started to get anxious. We went around each of the floors and got back to the fifth. Still no sign of him. I asked my son to check the men’s toilets. Nothing!
Finally I decided that something must have happened to him. He wouldn’t just leave us. My years of living in South Africa and a highly overactive imagination made me immediately think the worst. He had probably been frog-marched out of the shop at gun point and was lying dead in one of those huge wheelie bins on the side of the road. Or he had been drugged then stabbed and dumped in a gutter somewhere, fatally wounded.
I felt panic begin to take hold. We went to the information desk and asked them to page him. We waited for ten long minutes and then I decided to go outside. Perhaps he was waiting at the entrance.With the two children in tow I spoke to the doorman. I gave a detailed description. Alas, no joy there either. We went back inside and waited. In South Africa I would have immediately contacted the police.
So that is what I did. The kindly doorman, although surprised, pointed out directions to the police station. Luckily it was just down the road! By this time the children were quite upset, seeing their mother so overwrought and three tearful faces presented themselves at the desk. After explaining how my husband was there one minute and gone the next and how we had searched all over Hamleys, the policeman calmly told me that grown men do not get lost in London.
That was all I needed to share my biggest fear. He must have been abducted! He had little money on him so was probably dead by now! By this time I was in an advanced state of shock and had begun to shake uncontrollably. He left me briefly to call another police officer, a woman who came out from behind the desk. She explained that London wasn’t like South Africa so she was sure my husband was fine and would be in contact soon. She looked across at her colleague and I noticed a smirk pass between then. This made me angry as I felt that they weren’t taking me seriously. She asked if I had any family in England then suggested I call my father in law in Leeds.
My father in law was very understanding and helpful. He also tried to calm me down which was a bit more difficult. He told me to get a taxi to Waterloo station and catch the train to Haslemere. My husband’s aunt would collect us from the station. When my mother in law arrived home from her WI meeting later that afternoon she was asked to sit down and told ‘we have lost our son’. The poor woman became distraught until she heard the whole story!
I shared my panic on the train, to complete strangers! Looking back they must have thought that my husband had probably run away from a mad woman and who could blame him! My son had mentioned earlier that perhaps we should get a taxi to Turnham Green station. I had ignored this piece of advice wrapped up in my nightmare world of suspense and intrigue. He made the suggestion again when we were on the train. This advice was once more ignored.
We were collected at the station and taken to my husband’s grandmother’s house. She seemed to have a problem understanding why we were there without her grandson. We also had a visit from the local policeman who had been contacted by the London office. I had to give a description and remember pondering over a small scar on his cheek. I couldn’t remember if it was on his left or right one!
Gradually the thought of never seeing him again brought on a new flood of tears! I needed to prepare my children for this possibility. Somehow I had to find strength to take control of this awful situation! We went for a walk in a little wood at the bottom of the garden. I really couldn’t think of anything to soften the blow other than warning them that we might never see Dad again.
It was then that my husband’s grandmother called me. I was wanted on the telephone. My immediate thought was that his body had been found. I didn’t want to answer. I held back but she was insistant so made my way slowly into the house. It was my father in law telling me that my husband had contacted him and was on his way to Haslemere.
While we had all been in Hamleys he had popped to the gents quickly but not quickly enough to avoid the ensuing debacle. Finding no sign of us in Hamleys he had made his way to Turnham Green station. He had finally given up waiting at the car so had walked to a cousin’s house.
My father in law had hidden a key in the wheel arch of the car so we would soon be reunited. The first thing my husband said to me as he walked through the door was ‘why didn’t you get a taxi to Turnham Green station’? My son piped up that the suggestion had been made but ignored!
To my huge embarrassment this became a much repeated story over the next few years. I can now look back and laugh at my bizarre behaviour but still cringe when I think about it! I’m no longer a small town, naive young woman. I’ve lived in England for over thirty years. The constant fear of being attacked and the very real concern for our personal safety has diminished. And we all have mobile phones!
And no, my husband, of all people, would never have got lost in London! 👠
Jenny Burrell 