I cannot now remember exactly when I met Marilynne, but I do know it was not long after I joined the Department of Health and Social Security in 1982, and it was at a party. Her reputation had preceded her, and she turned out to be, as forecast, a wonderfully sociable, clever and witty person. We were briefly the same grade. In those heady days before interviews and psychometric tests, Marilynne had been chosen to be my next boss in succession to Hammy, Ian Hamilton, on his retirement. We occupied rooms on the ninth floor of Alexander Fleming House at the Elephant and Castle, said to be Arno Goldfinger’s second finest work. In reality, it was a dreadful place: long, narrow corridors and draughty rooms, hot in summer and cold in the winter, but it enabled Marilynne, who occupied the next room to me, to stick her pencil through a gap in the wall when she needed to attract my attention, which she did often.
Marilynne was born Marilynne Ann Williams, the only daughter of loving parents. She enjoyed the benefit of oneness, such as trips to Rules in Maiden Lane. Lunch was always a favourite of hers giving her the opportunity to meet friends and do business. She went to Bedford College and whilst there she met her husband, Nick, and then followed 60 wonderful years together. She graduated with a BA Hons degree in History and joined the Foreign Office as a researcher, but upon her marriage, she had to resign as the FCO’s policy was shockingly that no married women were allowed. She then took to the law, completing her pupillage in 1 Garden Court. At that time, the IRA were active in London, and it was indeed dangerous times. Whilst at the Old Bailey, an evacuation was called, and whilst she and many others were exiting down the main staircase, a bomb went off, showering everyone with glass. Marilynne’s gown was ripped, and she was sensitive to loud and sudden noises from then on. On joining the Government Legal Service, she rose steadily through the ranks. She was a brilliant drafter of regulations and clever at writing letters which struck the right chord, although she was somewhat challenged when it was discovered that papers belonging to the Lister Institute, given to the Department of Health for safekeeping, had gone missing. They were discovered to be under a land reclamation scheme in the Midlands. Marilynne’s letter placated the institute, and it was the first time I had read the words much loved by government, “lessons will be learnt from this”. She never did succeed Hammy. Duty called her elsewhere. She had a brief spell at the Department for the Environment, then back to the Department of Health and Social Security, where she became Head of the Solicitor’s Office and, at last, my boss.
Marilynne was a wonderful boss, not just to me but to everyone, no matter what their grade or status was. She gave people a chance to fulfil their potential regardless of whether they had a traditional path to the law. We dealt with serious matters, but we also had fun. She played Maid Marilynne to my Robin Hood in the office panto. She held an annual Christmas competition for the best decorated office, and we had parties, I hasten to add, not at the taxpayers’ expense. She and I also wrote for the office mag, the Bugle, fronting a column called ‘Ask Auntie Anita’. We laughed a lot. After one of our desultory away days at Birmingham National Exhibition Centre, a colleague offered to drive us to the station, Birmingham International. Those of you who know the NEC will know that the station is an integral part of it. Having driven halfway round the West Midlands and back, the two of us were deposited at an entrance to the station, but our trouble was not over. As John drove away, Marilynne nudged me in the ribs, which she frequently did, having perfected the surreptitious nudge to draw my attention to a sign over the door. It read ‘this door only opens when a bus arrives’. So we now had to wait for a bus. By the time it came, we were helpless with laughter and, of course, overjoyed to see it.
Marilynne was as proud to be a Bencher as she had been to be a CB. She loved being Reader, not to mention Chairman of the Catering Committee, and she brought all the skills and kindness she had shown in the GLS to the Inn. She worked tirelessly for charity, including the Alzheimer’s Society and the Bucks Historic Churches Trust. She loved her home, her garden, and her house in France. Above all, to me, she was an extraordinary friend of over 40 years. After my husband died during lockdown, she emailed me every day apart from when she was on the road in France. This continued until a month before her death, when, sadly, she was too weak to write. When I fractured my elbow, she and Nick turned up with what she described as a picnic. It was a feast. We have lost a wonderful friend and colleague. The motto on her coat of arms, which, in a hint to modernity, was her screen saver, reads, ‘think clearly, feel deeply,’ and that is just what she did.
Kindly written by Master Anita James
