In general, though, this was not necessary, and the orchestra’s performances were, by any standards, good and solid. On the orchestra’s first anniversary, in May 1939, it gave a special concert. La basked in the glory – modestly, of course – inviting a great number of friends and giving a series of parties to mark the event. Nobody minded her celebrating this triumph in the least.

But it was 1939. People asked: ‘What about the orchestra, La? With things as they are … ?’

‘We’ll carry on,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?’

So the orchestra continued during the war, and welcomed the talents of various musicians from the armed forces who were stationed in the area. An American airman livened up the percussion section for a brief and glorious period, and an accomplished Canadian violinist added real distinction to the string section for almost six months.

The orchestra performed concerts for the forces. ‘It’s not much of a contribution,’ said La to a friend. ‘But music makes a bit of a difference, I suppose.’

‘But of course it does,’ came the reply. ‘It all helps.’

She pondered these words. It all helps. She had seen a man moved to tears of emotion at one of the concerts when they had played a piece by the composer Dvorak, and she knew that, yes, it was true. Music helped.

It was round about this time that La’s Orchestra had its finest hour. A conference was being held in a country house. It was all very secret and the members of the orchestra, invited to play one evening to entertain those at this meeting, were taken to the venue without any idea of where it was. When they saw who was in the audience, they knew why.

The VIP was tired, and fell asleep briefly during one of the pieces. But afterwards, when he came to congratulate the conductor and the leader, he smiled and assured them that their presence had been important.

‘Music helps,’ he said. Then he produced a cigar from his pocket, waved to the players, and was gone.

3

La herself could not play an instrument. In the course of her somewhat chaotic education she had learned the basics of music, though, and her father had been good at the cello. He had encouraged her to take up the flute. But for a variety of reasons, this had never happened. The idea that she might one day play had remained unexplored. ‘The flute,’ she said, ‘is the instrument I do not play.’

Her main contribution to the orchestra – apart from acting as secretary, financial backer, venue organiser and tea-maker – was to copy out difficult-to-find parts, by hand. La somehow managed to borrow musical scores, but parts would often be missing and she would go to Cambridge, consult a library and copy the missing part by hand. She would spend hours doing this, her fingers becoming stained with black ink. But her copying of the notes was clear, and people liked to have La’s parts to play from, with each page signed at the bottom: La.