Give credit where it’s due to Edna Healey

The anecdotage in these columns about Denis Healey (Letters, passim) largely reflects his “bluff Yorkshireman” persona, which I always felt was mostly assumed for political purposes. It fails to give due credit to his equally remarkable wife, Edna, who, in her unassuming way, was his equal, perhaps in some ways more than his match, for intellect, energy and charm. I can personally vouch for all these qualities, especially the energy, since, as a junior dogsbody in his office at the Ministry of Defence, I was deputed to accompany her on a round of visits to schools and hospitals during an official tour of British bases in Cyprus. She ended up fresh as a daisy while the rest of us were exhausted. My boss, accompanying Denis himself, had a far easier time of it. Those not fortunate enough to have met her in person should read her books, especially Lady Unknown, her biography of Angela Burdett-Coutts, the Victorian philanthropist.
Michael Bell
London

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