BRENDA CHRISTINE LEROY (NEE DANIEL)
10.06.1935 – 14.08.1978
By her twin sister Deirdre Kathleen Baker
Brenda Christine Daniel was my younger twin sister. We were born on Whit Monday, 10th June 1935 in Hillingdon, Uxbridge, Middlesex, as the second and third daughters of Eleanora (née Lello) and Frederick Trevor Daniel. My mother was 34 years old and had a difficult pregnancy, as we were large babies (weighing in at around 7 1/2 lbs each!). Mother said that she could hardly move, wash or do up her shoes for several months before we arrived. The doctors at the Uxbridge hospital showed mother off to the medical students, rather as a clinical oddity; they were intrigued because, instead of lying ‘top to toe’ and facing each other as twins normally do, we were both lying head down in parallel. As a result, we were born only 20 minutes apart! Brenda had a slightly dark patch on her back roughly like Australia in shape, apparently where my forehead had rested in the womb. Our parents joked that it was surely a token that we came of Australian stock!
The early part of our story is very similar as Brenda and I were ‘identical’ twins. We had brown hair, hazel or mid brown eyes and medium complexion; we resembled the Lello side of the family more than the Daniels. Calling ourselves ‘Benda’ and ‘Deirby’, we soon proved to be slightly different in temperament; even when small. Brenda was quieter and less assertive, whereas I was more ‘sparky’. (I was sometimes called ‘the family clown’, to my great puzzlement). Later on, Brenda became more earnest and conscientious, and at school she always seemed to get things right (such as her hemstitch). Being so alike, we twins were often mistaken for each other and were even told off at school for being in the wrong classroom!
Although we were inseparable, we used to quarrel now and then - but heaven help anyone who intervened in our private conflicts! Having shared everything from birth, we bonded closely and shared our own private world of jokes and giggles. We would pick up each other’s sentences mid-stream. We were always together, whether at home or roaming around our village, playing tricks on our siblings, learning the piano or typewriting or how to ride a bike. We loved running, skipping and hopping; we couldn’t imagine why adults were so boring as to walk! During the war years, our family of seven was unable to stretch rations to visitors; as a result we had few visitors and so were shy - even tongue-tied - in company. We didn’t find it easy to relate to strangers.
From 1940 onwards, the Daniel family lived in Kidsgrove, on the edge of the Potteries (Staffordshire). The village was the domain of all local children. We would play hopscotch and whip little wooden spinning tops, balance along the top of garden stone walls, explore the canal towing paths and banks, or tear around the sides of the old quarry near our house. We used to run over the hump-backed canal bridge and the station bridge over the railway line; or led by our daring older sister Ryllis, we would slip inside the fencing around old mine shafts or even through the gate marking off railway land with the sign ‘Trespasses will be prosecuted’.
We attended our Church of England primary school in Kidsgrove, achieving very similar marks. At the age of nine, Brenda and I were drilled by Dad in arithmetic and both won places at the Orme Girls’ High School, Newcastle-under-Lyme, where our elder sister Ryllis was enrolled. At this school our parents insisted we were placed in different classes. From then onwards Brenda and I were in separate classes, and felt our first loneliness as we tried to make friends in a new much bigger school. I remember early rising, rain, frost or shine, to catch the train and bus to school. The great adventure was to travel alone; we would sometimes even dare each other to climb up into the luggage rack – but only if the compartment was empty!
In 1946, at the end of World War II, our father’s service in the Royal Ordnance Factory at Radway Green, Cheshire, came to an end. Our family moved into another world – Norwich, East Anglia. Having skipped a year at school, we twins were not yet 11 but, by a private arrangement between the school principals (old colleagues), we were admitted into the first form of the Blyth Grammar School, Norwich, and never took the notorious ‘eleven plus exam’ ! We were again put in different classes, but - due to our similar academic ability - we found ourselves in the same class ‘set’ for languages and mathematics. Our favourite subjects were French and Spanish; Brenda was slightly better at maths and science, while I was keener on literature. We enjoyed music, singing in the school choir, playing violin in the orchestra and in the local mixed Youth Orchestra. At home, we would often sing Mendelssohn duets together, or play violin pieces to our parents. We also loved Guides and camping, exploring the fascinating historic Norwich buildings, family cycling trips in the Norfolk countryside, swimming, and attending plays at the Maddermarket Theatre, concerts and French films at the Noverre cinema.
Brenda and I often found our secondary school life demanding and the excessive homework a constant burden, but our life was busy and fun, and we never lacked for company. At night, when we were supposed to be sleeping soundly, we had always made up stories – exciting adventures which, as we became teenagers, usually involved dark curly haired handsome boys! We went through the usual cycle of tests and exams, achieving quite well However, when we reached the 5th form, our socialist government had made a ruling on a minimum age of 16. This excluded us from sitting for the GCE ‘O levels’. Our head mistress was furious and sent us straight on into the 6th form.
We took most of our O levels the next year, followed by A levels and Scholarship levels in 1952, when to our surprise we both won State Scholarships. Our parents agreed to our staying on for a third 6th form year, in order to take the Oxford and Cambridge entrance exams in the spring of 1953. We were amazed to win places at the two universities, so at the age of 18 we finally went our different ways - Brenda to Girton College, Cambridge while I went to St. Hugh’s College, Oxford. This separation was hard at first; it meant weaning ourselves off being one of a pair and learning to be independent young adults. However, we still spent most of our vacations together and kept in close touch by letter. In those days, phone calls were only for emergencies! Brenda was typically a more serious student, I think, but though I worked fairly hard I think I had more fun. In the long summer vacations we both went to Spain to do university summer courses in Spanish, or to improve our languages with families in France and Spain. These were wonderful experiences and we especially enjoyed travelling together, finding a ‘pension’ – 1 star only! – exploring the beautiful cities of Spain and revelling in hearing the Spanish language properly spoken!
In 1954 Brenda became a Christian, during a Billy Graham crusade in Cambridge. This was the first time we had ever felt a sense of difference, as I couldn’t understand why she took her new faith so seriously, poring over her Bible and praying on her own. She wanted me to share her belief and persuaded me to go to Billy Graham’s Oxford campaign. The next year I also put my faith in Christ and we were able to share at a much deeper level than ever before. We would write to each other about some precious truth we had discovered and in the vacations, joined a local Norwich church and studied the Bible together. Mother would come in and grumble, when she found us still awake, and Dad would tease us for going to church. ‘Say one for me’, he would joke, or ask if we had dusty knees (through praying!). However, he secretly respected our decision and later on, came to accept it.
In 1956, Brenda and I both achieved upper 2nd class honours degrees in Spanish and French (Bachelor of Arts). Although we had loved being students, we felt that at last we were leaving the world of study and becoming adult. We decided to go to France for a year as English assistant teachers. Brenda went to Dax in the Landes area of southwest France and I was sent to the Ecole Normale at Tarbes, not far from the Pyrenees pilgrimage town of Lourdes. We managed to meet up now and then, sometimes even on the ski slopes! We travelled to Provence in the winter holiday and to Italy the following spring of 1957. Again we delighted in seeing beautiful places and trying to adapt our Spanish into Italian!
After her time in France Brenda and I travelled for a few weeks in Spain before Brenda went back to her fiancé in England (she later broke this engagement off). She had decided to go into teaching; between 1957 and 1965; her first job was in Tunbridge Wells and the next at High Wycombe. She then moved to Sweden in 1965, to teach English at Vaxjo for a year. By then, I had married (Alec Baker) and in June we joined Brenda for a camping holiday in Sweden with our two little children, Janice and Richard. I was full of admiration for the amazing way my twin had learnt Swedish, using a direct learning approach (no course book at all). There she met her future French husband Albert Leroy and they were married at St Thomas’ Church in Norwich in 1966. She was a beautiful gloriously happy bride and I was her matron of honour, wearing the same apricot satin dress she had worn as my bridesmaid!
As Brenda wanted to increase her language skills even more, she returned to study, this time for her Master of Linguistics degree at the University of Essex in Colchester. Just for fun, she decided to learn Russian as part of her linguistics course. Brenda and Albert often visited us at our home in Colchester and she loved being auntie to our two little ones (she was our elder daughter Janice’s godmother). Brenda had a special love for children and always hoped to have her own family. Later she would have nephews and nieces to stay with her in Paris. I was very sad that she never had the children she longed for. I know it cast a shadow over her life, as she saw her three sisters have children – ten between them. She became even more attached to our parents and visited them in England and Spain whenever she could.
Having completed her MA, Brenda was appointed as French Lecturer at the tertiary level Birmingham City College, while Albert worked for the firm of Lucas in the Personnel Department. In the 1970s Brenda and Albert moved to Paris where she worked as a tri-lingual translator with a reinsurance firm. She and Albert bought a little ‘villa’ with a garden in La Garenne. The two-storey old house had been occupied by a fish and seafood merchant; it was quite a challenge to make a home out of the long neglected place! It was full of debris such as old scallop and snail shells from the shop, but she soon set to work with her typical energy and single-mindedness and it became a lovely home! I remember her tackling high ceilings with a painting roller on a very long pole! Once I flew over from England with my husband Alec to help them turn the bathroom from dark grey to pink.
Brenda always had immense joie de vivre and her love for France was deep and enduring.
She quickly endeared herself to her French in-laws, became highly expert in the French language and in cooking à la française, and even began to look and sound more French than English. She and Albert loved travelling, bought a kayak to use on the beautiful rivers of France, and made the most of their life in France. I can vividly remember meeting her, glowing with life and joy, at the Midnight Communion in Highcliffe, Christmas 1974.
Soon after that, in 1975, at the age of 40, Brenda was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had treatment for three years at the Marie Curie Foundation in Paris and their residential unit at Bligny outside Paris. The doctors gave Brenda the choice of a mastectomy or radiotherapy with chemotherapy. Thinking this option meant the latter was a reasonable choice, she decided not to have surgery. This was perhaps an unfortunate decision, as the three years of radio and chemotherapy were immensely demanding and damaging without curing the cancer.
In July 1978, Albert rang the family in England and then me in Australia with the sad news that the hospital had declared Brenda’s illness to be terminal. I was devastated and immediately took leave from teaching. I flew from Melbourne to Paris, while our parents flew over from England. We all met up with Albert who took us out to Bligny, to see Brenda discharged from the hospital. I can remember that day how her irrepressible spirit revealed itself, as she laughingly described a television program she had found amusing. Somehow, it didn’t seem possible for her to believe that the end of her life on earth was near.
Our parents returned to England, while Albert drove us, with their little cat, from Bligny to his parents’ summer home in Pont-de-Vaux, near Lyons. Albert was emotionally drained and was thankful to have a close family member there to help with her care. I was very grieved to see the damage to her skin through radiation and the cancer wound. This was a time for sad farewells. Monsieur and Madame Leroy and their children knew they would never see Brenda again. Brenda wanted to sleep once more in the family chalet at Bourg-en-Bresse, a wooden Scandinavian-style house which she adored. During the few weeks we had together, we shared together, prayed and talked about many things. She insisted that Albert took me out to take photographs of the lovely Bresse countryside. Her last gifts to me and my two daughters were three beautiful French enamel pendants, still much treasured today. Typically, Brenda’s main concern at this time was for Albert’s future situation, as he had left his job and hadn’t yet found another one.
After this, Albert and I took Brenda by air to England. The Southampton hospital specialists confirmed the opinion of the Paris doctors – Brenda had only a few months to live. Even though she was so ill, Brenda had refused to take more pain killers, because they made her feel ‘dopey’. She spent her last weeks at our parents’ house in Highcliffe-on-Sea, Dorset. After the parish priest had brought Holy Communion to the home, and having taken heavy-hearted farewells, I had to tear myself away to return to my family and job in Melbourne. Several weeks later, on 14 August 1978, at the age of 43, Brenda died in the evening. She had just watched a beautiful television programme that – typically – filled her with delight. Ever since I heard the news of her death, I have felt as though I have lost a dear part of myself, though I believe we shall surely meet again in heaven.
The memory her friends and family have of Brenda is of an immensely natural, honest and loving person, with an almost childishly naïve and generous side to her nature, which endeared her to many. Brenda showed her typical love of life, of beauty and of other people to the very end. Her death was a deep grief to the family (a loss followed by the death of our father of bone marrow cancer only two years later). Her grave is in the cemetery of the St. Mark’s Anglican Church in Highcliffe, Dorset, where the ashes of both our parents are interred.
Melbourne, September 2005