Service with a smile – Berlin, 1992.
October soon came around and the Royal visitors arrived at the Ambassador’s Residence. I remember being introduced to each member of the Royal staff: The Queen’s Page; The Duke’s Valet; the Travelling Yeoman and Miss Peggy Hoath, Her Majesty’s Senior Dresser. I was so impressed by their professionalism: everything was executed with efficiency and precision, from the delivery of the luggage to the unpacking of the cases. Over the course of the next four days, we all got to know each other well, and I spent quite a bit of time with Peggy, who was a lovely lady. She told me she had been The Queen’s Dresser for the last thirty-four years and was now considering her retirement. We agreed to keep in touch.
It wasn’t until the end of their visit that I finally got to meet Her Majesty and The Duke of Edinburgh. Just before our guests departed, The Queen and His Royal Highness said their farewells to the household. I now understand that this is common practice: they like to thank the staff for their assistance in making the visit a success. I remember what a privilege and honour it was to be presented to The Queen and The Duke. I was even given a lovely photograph of them, alongside a beautiful needle case with EIIR inscribed on it.
After I’d thanked them for their thoughtful gift, Her Majesty asked whom we expected next at the Residence. I replied that the information was confidential, and The Duke asked, slightly incredulous: ‘Surely you can tell Her Majesty The Queen?’ Again, I explained that I really could not disclose the information as I had signed the Official Secrets Act, now known as Confidentiality Agreements. I had taken the confidentiality surrounding their visit in a similar way – even carrying a bunch of flowers whenever I left the Residence to trick the surrounding media into thinking I was a florist and so would be unable to provide any intelligence on the high-profile guests inside. In light of this exchange, I offered the photograph and needle case back to Her Majesty and The Duke – I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to keep them since I’d refused them the information they’d asked for. The Queen simply told me to keep it. I thanked her and His Royal Highness again, and said to Her Majesty The Queen, ‘I will remember this for the rest of my life.’
And the Queen replied, ‘Angela, so will I.’
A few weeks after the Royal visit to the Ambassador’s Residence, I was surprised to receive a phone call out of the blue from Peggy, who asked how I was. I assumed she was just being kind as I’d mentioned to her that I was hoping to come back to England later in the year to start a new chapter of my life after the recent breakdown of my marriage. It was lovely to chat to her and she said she would call me again before I left Berlin.
It was just a couple of days later when I next heard from Peggy. She said that Her Majesty had requested she get in touch to ask would I consider coming to work at Buckingham Palace? To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. I told Peggy I was still making arrangements to return to England but that I would consider the offer of a position carefully.
Several weeks later, when I was finally settled back in Sheffield with my family, Peggy rang to ask if I had an answer for her about applying for the Assistant Dresser role. I discussed the prospect at length with my family to make sure they were happy with my entering into this commitment, because it would be almost like a marriage and would therefore affect all of our lives. But there really was only one answer to give: a very enthusiastic yes from us all.
I could give one half of myself to my children, and the other half to the life I was about to enter.
MY LIFE
A couple of months after I had accepted Peggy’s invitation to interview for the position of Assistant Dresser, I found myself en route to Buckingham Palace to meet with Lady Susan Hussey and the Honourable Miss Mary Morrison, two of The Queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting. As with any interview, I had spent quite a lot of time thinking about what to wear. I was certain this interview was for these two ladies to look me over and check me out, and that everyone in the Palace would be an intimidating, impeccably dressed aristocrat. When I first received the letter inviting me to Buckingham Palace for the interview I went into panic mode. Those famous words of ‘what on earth will I wear?’ came to mind – I already had lovely clothes, but I thought that a more conservative outfit was needed. So I made the rather rash decision to sell my washing machine so that I could afford an appropriately smart outfit. I chose a crisp cream blouse with navy spots and a long skirt, and wore a string of pearls. Normally I wear dresses to my knees, but for the interview I thought a long skirt would be more appropriate. I did struggle to walk and I looked like a good take on Miss Marple, with my skirt wrapped around my legs. I arrived at the Privy Purse Door, which is the main entrance at the front of Buckingham Palace, at 11.30am and was welcomed in. Trembling with nerves, I was taken to the Ladies-in-Waiting sitting room.
As I waited, I couldn’t help but reflect on how I had ended up there: a divorced single mother from humble beginnings in Liverpool was on her way to interview for a position working with Her Majesty The Queen.
When I think about my early childhood, most of my memories seem to be anchored in and around the back room of our house. I was born in a small street in Liverpool, facing Stanley Park, between two famous football grounds: Everton and Liverpool. We lived in a two-up-two-down terraced house, and it was a very happy home. My mother sewed and my father was in the Merchant Navy.
The back room of our house was a hive of activity; a place for chatting, listening to the radio, eating, and, crucially, it was also frequently transformed into a sewing room. My mother, Teresa, was a very smart, elegant, and glamorous lady, although I remember her blushing and shying away from compliments. She was not shy when it came to the sewing machine, though, and she had a raw talent and natural flair for clothes design. I’m sure her skills were recognised by my maternal grandmother, who taught her the art of dressmaking when she was still very young. When she grew up, my mum joined the army’s Auxiliary Territorial Service. Funnily enough, then as the Princess Elizabeth, The Queen also joined the Auxiliary Territorial Service in 1945, and was the first female member of the Royal Family to join the Armed Services as a full-time active member. My mum worked with the Service until she fell in love with my father, Thomas, and left to marry him. They had two sons, my brothers Tommy and Tony, before I came along, then another two sons, John and Terry, and a second daughter, my sister Donna Maria. With so many young children to care for, my dad left the Merchant Navy and took up a job as a crane driver on the Liverpool docks so that he could be closer to home.
Clockwise: My first Holy Communion, age 7; my mum, Teresa, in the Auxillary Territorial Service; me and my dad at home in Liverpool.
My father was good-looking, quiet, and a gentleman. He was caring, loved, and respected by his family and all who knew him. When we were little, he was always tricking us. Perhaps he would shout, ‘Would you like a Quality Street?’ And we’d all come running, yelling, ‘Yes!’ And he would be standing in front of the television, and a Quality Street advert would be on, and he’d say, ‘Ah, you missed it.’ But every Friday, when he collected his wages, he’d go to the shop to buy the Liverpool Echo and a Mars Bar each for everyone.
We did not have much in the way of material possessions when we were growing up, but the house was filled with love, laughter, and kindness, and my mum insisted that our family take pride in everything we did. She was excellent at teaching by example and took meticulous care of every piece of clothing she created, which included my school uniform skirt and grey bib. She was endlessly generous with her time, and whenever the back room was not being used to