Daughter of Empire Read Online Free PDF

our characters, though I always secretly wished I had been the more glamorous-sounding Princess Plink.
    Bunny brought great joy to our lives and I loved him deeply. He was a core part of my rather eccentric family, and although he was our mother’s lover, they never displayed more than a
friendly affection in public. He would stay with us for long periods of time and, to us children, he was just a part of our everyday life. Yola did not live with us but would visit frequently,
bringing us charming gifts. For a time, I wouldn’t wear anything except the French peasant dress she gave each of us – the pink and white striped skirt, black flowered apron, waistcoat,
long ribbons and little straw hat embroidered with mimosa and worn at a jaunty angle to the side of the head was just about the best thing in the world.
    For me, then, the addition of Bunny and Yola and the extension of the family in those two different directions greatly enriched my life and just meant more friendly faces in my somewhat
unconventional home. It wasn’t until many years later, while riding with my father in the early-morning cool of Delhi, that I realised how his complete lack of jealousy prevented our family
from fragmenting and how, as in so many areas of his life, he sought a practical solution to life’s tricky problems.

 
     
     
     
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    C asa Medina, our Maltese townhouse, was built of yellow stone, featured a rather elaborate porch and, much to my delight, had two front doors, each
at a different level. It was in Guardamangia, outside Valletta, where the streets were achingly steep and so narrow that if a mule cart or car approached, you had to hop into a doorway to avoid
being crushed.
    In 1934 my father was still serving in the Mediterranean Fleet and in the summer of that year, Nanny, Miss Vick, Grandmama, Patricia and I came to spend some time with him. My mother and Bunny
joined us later, having returned from a six-month sailing trip around the Pacific. Family life was fun there, full of boat trips and picnics. Daddy was in a particularly happy mood, sharing
memories of his own childhood days in Malta when my grandfather was commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. We explored the island with him and he showed us the beautiful blue lagoons where
we could swim, and he gave me a donkey to ride. My sister and I were also given a chameleon each. I named mine Casper and could watch him for ages, endlessly fascinated as to how he changed from
yellow to dark green. He spent hours balanced on my hand, his long tongue darting out to catch flies, his eyes revolving in different directions.
    Peter Murphy and Noël Coward came to stay, making my parents laugh as they competed with each other to tell the funniest anecdotes. As an officer’s wife, my mother was responsible for
hosting a cocktail party. This was nonnegotiable. The only day when she could possibly fulfil this duty, however, was a Sunday, which was the only day on which a party was not supposed to happen.
Peter and Noël encouraged her to send out the invitations anyway. Noël was there when the replies arrived, including one that read: ‘Lieutenant Wood thanks Lady Louis Mountbatten
for her invitation but would rather not accept on a Sunday’. During the party – held on a Sunday – my mother was puzzled by a long queue forming outside the gentlemen’s
cloakroom. When the guests left, she darted in to see what had been keeping them in there for so long. Stuck up above the cistern, she found a piece of paper in Noël’s handwriting:
    Lieutenant Wood is never bored
    On days devoted to the Lord
    In fact he thinks himself as one
    With God the Father, God the Son
    And, though he’d rather die than boast
    Also with God the Holy Ghost
    At the end of the summer Mummy and Bunny left for a long holiday. Patricia and I remained in Malta, collecting the stamps and postcards they sent from Bangkok, Angkor Wat,
Hawaii, Bali, Java, Suva, Borneo, Sarawak,