SHEILA McLAUGHLIN, my mother, was born just after Christmas 1900. Her sister Daphne came two years later. Here are the girls with my grandfather George Hall McLaughlin, my grandmother Ethel, their nanny and the butler.

George doted on the girls and they adored him. Ethel was less cut out for parenthood. Fond as she might be of her offspring, she wanted everything to be just so and she was habitually fearful. It was just as well that their care was left to others.

The most significant of the others was Nanny, pictured left. Helen Cooper was her name according to the loving obituary notice signed by Ethel, Sheila and Daphne. The 1901 census recorded her name as Ellen, an error probably due to the enumerator not realizing that cockneys such as Nanny were rather free with their aspirates, as in the saying "Hit hain't the 'untin' on the 'ill wot 'urts the 'orses 'ooves, hits the 'ackin' on the 'ard 'igh road."

Nanny, who was 51 when Sheila was born, cosseted Sheila and Daphne as if she were her own grandchildren (in contrast, Ethel, rather than acknowledge grandmotherhood,  insisted that I call her Marraine, French for godmother.) 

The Nanny imparted a lot of proverbial wisdom to her charges but eventually had to give way to two French governesses known as Rodine and Chopine for their sculptural and pianistic skills respectively. Which lady is which in the picture is uncertain. What is sure is that the girls learned to speak fluent French, the main use of which was to exchange information devant les domestiques: Ethel forbade them to read French novels for fear of assaults on their British Decency.

The pupils mastered the three Rs and achieved some artistic skills, but nothing that would help them to cope when they became adults. Until World War II deprived my mother of domestic help she had not learned to cook ─ not even to boil an egg.

In 1916 Ethel put her girls into three-quarter length belted coats and loose-fitting chemise dresses with belts at the hip.

Harper's Bazaar had just published the designs by Gabrielle Chanel, who was in western France, away from the combat zones.

Ethel's somewhat dotty fashion sense infected her daughters.

Here are "the gals" with their parents. The shadow of a lady and her parasol on the right reveals the elaborate pleating of Daphne's dress. It is evident from her smile that she was snapped before her front teeth were knocked out in a game of rounders, the challenging British form of baseball.

The girls were proud of their long tresses; eventually they could sit on their hair. Soon they had to put their hair up and lengthen their skirts as signals that they were ready for the social round and the marriage market.

But Ethel botched their chances. When the girls were ready for their coming out in society, Ethel had remarried and gone abroad with her Chum. Responsibility for the debutantes was left to a friend who was too old to get suitable gentlemen introduced to them.