The Secret Generations Read Free

Benedictines arrived at what was, by then, a thriving settlement, its people living off the good growing and grazing ground of the area. Work began on the Abbey – little of which remains; though the major part of the Parish Church of SS Peter & Paul dates from those early builders, with additions constructed in the 1780s.
    The church itself is a monument, not only to the glory of God, but also to the men who went out from Haversage to do battle throughout the world, and at home in England. There are the tombs of four crusaders within its walls, and at least three other noted soldiers lie under the main aisle.
    The Benedictines were, naturally, ousted by Henry VIII’s Commissioners, and, like so many other monasteries, the Abbey was sacked and burned when the King reformed the Church, splitting from the Papal authority of Rome. In place of the peace-loving monks, a new landowner arrived – Richard de Railton, descendant of that Norman knight, Pierre de Royalton, who had distinguished himself at Hastings with Duke William in 1066.
    Within eighty years the family had dropped the ‘de’, to become plain Railton, having built the great manor house at the top of Red Hill – a vantage point, which probably derived its name from bitter skirmishes, and the shedding of blood, centuries before. They then set about creating a pattern for other landowners by organizing their farming, and extending a building programme.
    Over the years, the Rail tons evolved into the true backbone of Haversage. There was usually a Railton living at the Manor, running the estate, and acting as squire to the local community. At the same time, other members of the family spread abroad, serving Monarch and Country in the army, navy, or some branch of the diplomatic Service; and the best of them, the natural patriarchs, returned to Redhill Manor to see out their last years.
    So it was with General Sir William Arthur Railton VC KCB DSO – known to all within the family simply as ‘The General’.
    The entire family had spent the Christmas of 1909 at Redhill, as was the custom. The General ’s younger brother, Giles, had been there with his naval officer son, Andrew, who brought his wife, Charlotte, and their three sons – Caspar, and the twins, Rupert and Ramillies. Giles’ second son, Malcolm, had travelled from Ireland with his recent wife, Bridget; while Marie – Giles’ only daughter – had come with her French husband, Marcel Grenot, from Paris, together with their two children, Paul and Denise.
    The General ’s own two sons were present – Charles, the younger, with his oddly dowdy wife, Mildred, and their daughter Mary Anne; and John, the Member of Parliament, proud with his young second wife, Sara, and the son of his tragic first marriage, James.
    It was the happiest of holidays, for this was a special time at Redhill, and The General was in excellent spirits.
    On the Tuesday after Christmas they had gone their separate ways, leaving The General to celebrate the New Year at the Manor with his staff: Porter, his old servant; Cook; her daughter Vera, the head maid; the two undermaids; Natter the groom; Billy Crook odd job boy, and the others.
    Giles was to see in the New Year with Andrew, Charlotte, and his grandchildren, and was just preparing to leave his Eccleston Square house, during the early afternoon of New Year ’s Eve, when the telephone message came from an almost incoherent Porter – The General’s servant – to say that his master had been taken ill with a seizure.
    Immediately, Giles warned Andrew, but did not stress the seriousness of the situation; then set out for Haversage, arriving at the station to be met by Ted Natter with the dog cart.
    Even on this bleak evening the golden red brickwork of the Manor appeared inviting as ever – a sight which remained constant in Giles’ memory: for here was his childhood: the holidays from school; the first riding lessons; Christmas; his own father and mother; an age of autumns