Mum had so much in common with her playmate, the Queen
OuR great-grandfather was appointed Lord Mayor of London in 1933 and, as a girl, Mother spent time at his official residence, Mansion House. One day she was told that an important lady was coming to tea with her two daughters, and she was to entertain them.
A game of hide-and- seek followed, with one of the little guests, Margaret, managing to get lost in the Court Room. The older girl was Elizabeth.
Yes, the ‘ important lady’ was the then Duchess of York and Mother’s playmate would later become the Queen.
In many ways, Mother’s life mirrored that of the Queen. She, too, had four children, and had a great sense of civic duty, serving as a hospital almoner, a magistrate, and working tirelessly for the Red Cross.
She was a superb organiser and a tenacious campaigner — a tour- deforce, basically, although she described herself as ‘ just a cog in the wheel making something happen for others’.
Like many of her generation, she was never bored, never idle and never complained — although quick to act for the greater good if she spotted a problem.
A favourite family story was when we went to meet her at her beloved beach hut at Southwold in Suffolk, where she still swam in the sea well into her 80s.
We found her on the promenade, where her electric buggy had come to a halt in a sand drift. Mother was on her mobile to the council. ‘ Why haven’t you swept the promenade?’ she was demanding.
Born in 1922, Mother first worked as an almoner at East Grinstead Hospital where the pioneering plastic surgeon, Archibald McIndoe, treated Battle of Britain pilots. Her job was to help ease their passage back into civilian life.
In 1943, the East Grinstead cinema received a direct bomb hit, killing 108. Mother and her colleagues worked for 48 hours, non- stop, helping the survivors and identifying the dead.
After the war, she became almoner to the East Sussex County Council, specialising in end-of-life care. In 1948 she took up the cause of an ex-fighter pilot, Leonard Cheshire, who wanted to turn his large house into a home for the dying. The council rejected it on the grounds that it wasn’t financially viable. What a misjudgment! There are now more than 270 Cheshire Homes in 49 countries.
In 1950, she wed Colonel George Chadd, who’d just left the Army to run the family department store, Chadds, in Lowestoft. Their best man was the future prime minister, Edward Heath, who’d served with our father, and who was also godfather to our eldest brother Christopher.
In 1973, our family suffered a tragedy when Christopher was sailing Heath’s yacht Morning Cloud to Cowes. The boat sank in a storm, and Christopher drowned. He was 23. Exactly two years later, we lost our other brother Timothy, who was then 21 and at Cambridge, after he was hit by a car in France.
Most people would have collapsed under such grief, but not Mother. She once said: ‘I began by asking “Why me?” but then that changed to “Why not me?” Grief is the price of love and therefore worth paying.’
She used her experience to help others, did a counselling course, and launched a Suffolk branch of Cruse, the bereavement support group. Retirement brought more causes, more campaigning and nothing got in her way — not a heart valve operation nor three hip replacements. When snow blocked the roads, she simply dug out her skis to cut across the fields.
Mother’s belief in the value of terminal care never wavered throughout her life and her dream was to open a hospice. Now that is being realised. When completed, the East Coast Hospice will be named after her — a fitting memorial to a formidable lady.
Margaret Chadd, born June 7, 1922, died July 14, 2018, aged 96.