Katya & The Prince of Siam

Once again, though now on an even larger scale, their home resembled a court: quite strictly organised by its presiding spirit, who in a highly charged programme of activities, kept a vigilant eye on anyone bold enough to oppose opinions or prejudices beyond certain lines – lines which might be suddenly drawn and unexpectedly halt discussion on topics ruled out of court. Royal displeasure would chill speakers, reminding them implicitly that they might amuse, interest or entertain, but not challenge their autocratic host. He sometimes went to unusual lengths to signify exasperation and recounts himself, in one of his books, how he became so enraged by a hotel manager’s stupidity in Venice that ‘I could only throw myself down flat on my back!’

 

 

Tredethy, near Bodmin, Cornwall.

 

I have also seen him do this when overcome by helpless laughter and once when he was furious. This last was when he stayed overnight with my husband and me in London to attend an important dinner. He left our house, spruce and elegant in dark blue dress uniform and decorations, but returned later in a fearful rage. Something – I forget now what it was – had greatly displeased him during the evening, and giving an account of it, he flung himself at our feet and drumming with his heels till his medals shook and jingled, consigned his host and everyone at the dinner to unutterable perdition.

Although he may at times have taken himself a little too seriously, he also possessed a sly sense of humour at his own expense. For example, he stayed with us once during the 1950s, and it cannot have been for the coronation of the present Queen, as Lisba accompanied him to the ceremony in the Abbey and to the many receptions and banquets of that memorable event, and I am certain that on this occasion, Chula was on his own. In any case, it came about that, splendidly attired in scarlet uniform, glittering with medals, he returned to a very late lunch. We had no help at that time, so meals were below stairs, and I had just sat him down with hot chicken casserole, wine, salad and French bread, when two German maids arrived for an interview. I showed them round the house, and when we reached the kitchen they appeared rather unnerved by the sight of this magnificent figure, calmly eating at the kitchen table. Afterwards Chula remarked: ‘I bet they thought I was a cinema commissionaire!’

 

Christmas 1947 at Tredethy. Front, 2nd from left is Katya, Prince Chula: holding Joan, Lisba holding ‘Herc’ is flanked by Nan Rahm, Ceril holds her two West Highland Terriers. A Russian samovar is visible at bottom right.

 

When Katya and Hin visited Tredethy, their presence sometimes caused a certain tension for, however hard Hin strove to maintain ‘Mother’ in an equable frame of mind, there were days when the house rang with recrimination and the sound of sharply slammed doors, as a well-rehearsed old quarrel was run through, or a brand-new one worked up from the scantiest material. Even Lisba’s tact and ability to guard against giving offence sometimes failed, when the will to take it was as strong as it was in her mother-in-law. It angered her, for instance, when Lisba wore beautiful Thai jewellery because she herself had very little. And apparently obliterated from her mind was the incident long ago when she had flung in the face of King Vajiravudh’ s emissary the jewels the King had sent her as a personal gift. On the other hand, if Lisba wore no jewellery, she insisted obscurely that ‘Lisba wished to spite her’.

Her opinions were forceful and undeviating: at a dinner where two known homosexuals were present, she spoke loudly and approvingly of a Russian nobleman, who learning one of his sons had similar inclinations, took the rather extreme step of shooting him – ‘and quite right too!’ Although these squalls and tempestuous huffs were afterwards lapped over by waves of maternal affection, the strewn wreckage left behind was not always easy to forget.

In 1956 came the birth of Narisa, after 18 years of marriage, and this event naturally altered the ambience of Tredethy. Although the life of the house continued to be highly organised and crowded with activities, the nursery – presided over by Miss Dorothy Thomas (always called Tommy, or Nin Nin by Narisa), a Norland nurse who was one in a thousand – became a calm refuge where the child grew and flourished. She became a source of joy to her mother who, with Tommy’s invaluable help, managed not only to see much of her little daughter, but to continue to work for St John’s and, above all, to be at Chula’s side, knowing that her child was in good and loving hands.