Lady Norah Docker was quite a character.

Last year, I read  Norah: The Autobiography of Lady Docker, ghostwritten by Don Short, published in 1969 by W.H. Allen. 

It is a classic rags to riches story (or, rather, rags to riches and back again) and it is the only authorised book on Norah Docker’s life.

Norah Docker (née Norah Turner) was born above a butcher’s shop in Derby. She was the second eldest of four children, and she was her father’s favourite (as the Autobiography states). When she was 16, her father committed suicide after returning home from a convalescent home following a nervous breakdown. She was the last to see her father alive.

He asked her, “You will take care of them all [the family] won’t you, Norah, if anything happens to me?” Words that stayed with her forever, despite not realising the significance at the time.

She was 18 years old when she moved to London, determined to become an actress. She took up dance classes with a strict instructor who saw potential in Norah, so much so that within a few months, she was invited to become a dance instructor. Despite enjoying her work, she felt that she wasn’t earning enough money, so she started working at the famous Café de Paris, which she describes as ‘the most fashionable haunt for society in London.’

After a few years, Norah felt it was time for a change. She tried to forge a career in fashion and retail, but that failed, so she decided to return to Birmingham but couldn’t settle. London called again.

All along, she was being courted by three men simultaneously and an entire chapter in the book (titled ‘The Judge, the Duke and the Frenchman’) was devoted to sharing the experiences she had juggling the three suitors.

While she was at the Café de Paris, she met her future husband Clement – known as ‘Millionaire Number One’ in the book. She had a son called Lance Callingham with Clement. She adored her first husband and she was crestfallen when he died.

In the Autobiography, there is a curious story: just before he died, Clement introduced Norah to a man called Sir Wilkie Collins, another multi-millionaire, at a dinner party. Clement said he could envisage Norah marrying someone like Wilkie. Odd, she thought. Then, after Clement died, she fulfilled his prophecy and married Wilkie.

Sir Wilkie Collins (aka ‘Chapter 6 – Millionaire Number Two – Wilkie’ in the Norah Autobiography) was the chairman of Fortnum and Mason. He was a self-made man and much older than Norah, so their marriage was more like a companionship. But it was not unimpassioned. This is an extremely dramatic chapter in her life story, brimming with scandal and turbulence  – and I couldn’t put it down!

After Wilkie died, Norah was on the hunt for husband number three.  She met Sir Bernard Docker and describes her pursuit:

‘Today, I hide my face to think of the way that I deliberately trapped him into marriage, in a way that would, for its audaciousness, have surely won me an honours degree from any marriage bureau.’

The quotes in Norah the Autobiography are truly marvellous.

Oh, and did I mention Lady Docker got banned from Monte Carlo? Norah and Bernard were invited to Prince Rainier’s wedding to Grace Kelly, but it did not go entirely smoothly… Then, a year later (and by some miracle) they were invited back to the christening of Prince and Princess Rainier’s son. Only, that did not go well either. No spoilers here, but it resulted in Norah tearing up the Monegasque flag, and getting banned from their playground.

‘“I’m fed up with this,” I said – and, as I did so, I noticed a little bowl of flowers on the table. In the centre of it was a tiny, crepe-paper Monegasque flag, no bigger than two inches by three inches. All the tables had the same decoration. That flag looked me in the eye, so I plucked it out and said: “We shan’t be needing this any more. Bernard, we will go where we are more welcome.”’

The Norah Autobiography is a work of non-fiction, although at times I felt it firmly cross over into the realms of fiction and fantasy. The gap between the two narrows and widens throughout.

Norah’s lack of self-awareness is notable. Born above a butcher’s shop and living the highlife with a yacht and several mansions in tow, it is quite an extraordinary moment to read: ‘I am not saying that the rich should marry the rich, or the poor the poor, although that has its recommendation.’

After pages of amusing name-dropping and status sharing, we are told that Norah ‘never tolerated snobbery.’

I was keen to catch up with Don to hear his thoughts on Lady Docker (although anyone who has read his memoirs, ‘The Beatles and Beyond’ will be familiar with his ghostwriting exploits as they were quite rightly given their own chapter in his book.)

Before I started reading ‘Norah: The Autobiography of Lady Docker’, Don told me that when he wrote the book, Norah understandably wanted to read it carefully to ensure she was happy with it. Except, she would often change her mind throughout, and it got to the point when she was asked to sign each page as a way of confirming that she approved.

Not only that, Norah was absolutely thrilled with the Autobiography when it was finished, and congratulated Don on their book. So it was mission accomplished for the ghostwriter!

I’m going to be completely honest: I would never have guessed that Norah Docker had read it at all, let alone felt pleased with it! It’s an extremely honest book (in parts)… almost: honesty where you would least expect it?

Don Short told me more about his time with Norah Docker.

‘I was introduced to Norah Docker by her lawyer, David Jacobs. We were in the salon of her yacht in 1968 in London, and we started talking about the prospect of a memoir. Pink champagne flowed (Norah’s favourite drink) and Norah, with a flourish of her hands, said: “How soon can we start this?”  I was granted a one-month sabbatical from the Daily Mirror to make a start on the book. What followed was the experience of a lifetime (and you’ll have to read my own memoirs for the full story). I stayed with Norah and Bernard in Jersey many times, frequently flying to Mallorca too to see them and Norah Docker’s son, Lance Callingham.’

Don told me about the process of writing Norah the Autobiography: ‘I interviewed Norah over the course of many, many months for the book. As a journalist, I was used to interviewing shy stars who needed prompting. With Norah, the opposite was true. It was more a case of trying to focus the discussion while highlighting and concentrating on the most brilliant and sensational stories. Often, it is difficult for people to identify the most noteworthy passages of their lives, and that is precisely the job of the journalist, and ghostwriter.’

Don laughed. ‘Although I have a feeling if Norah had her way, volume one would have been 700 pages, and volume two would have been 800 pages! After writing the first draft of the book, I was in constant contact with Norah Docker and our literary agents at Curtis Brown and the publishers at W.H. Allen. We frequently discussed the shape of the book, its timeline and span, the structure, the emphasis of the story, what should be included – and – crucially – legally – what should be excluded, and re-doing odd bits here and there until I finished writing it, and everybody involved was happy.’

‘I ghostwrote many other books, including Britt Ekland’s “True Britt.” Readers may be forgiven for assuming that the featured authors write their own books but that is rarely the case. They often like to take full credit, and accepting that is part of the ghostwriter’s job as well. It’s actually very flattering when friends or family of the celebrity believe they  wrote the book themselves, as that means you have done a good job. No one can believe that it’s not the celebrity’s own work on the page.’

Norah The Autobiography of Lady Docker sold incredibly well despite Norah Docker having fallen from favour a bit in the late 1960s. ‘Her life story was sensational. She was a complicated person, she had real tenacity and determination to succeed. In many ways, she was ahead of her time, particularly in terms of campaigning for equality,’ Don added.

‘When you take on a ghostwriting project of this nature, you become completely engulfed in the subject, and their family. In later years as a literary agent, I was frequently contacted by Lance and his wife Debbie, both asking for help in getting work. I was happy to assist and I secured Lance Callingham a successful job on a newspaper in Mallorca.’

‘On a different note, I’ll never forget the day when I was asked to be a witness to help resolve some squabble or another involving Norah and Bernard. Pretty soon, you learn not to be surprised, as it’s all part and parcel of the ghostwriter! In the 1980s I was commissioned to write a long reflective story on my time with Lady Docker which has been a great help in remembering so vividly the journey of writing the Norah Docker book.’

It is a truly sensational autobiography, and I have read it several times. No wonder it attracted so much attention from film and television and theatre producers when it was published, and long after its publication.

Don said: ‘It was successfully optioned in the 1990s following interest by a brilliant film producer in the mid-1980s who remained very keen on the project for over a decade. She had a stellar team, with a very famous screenwriter and a great co-producer too. We were going to bring out a tie-in version of the book and update it a little, as Lance Callingham held masses of archive material and could very well have been the fountain of hitherto unpublished anecdotes about his infamous mother. There was even interest in making a ‘Norah Docker The Musical’ from a theatre in Derby!’

A few more of my favourite anecdotes from the Norah Docker book (although everyone who reads Norah The Autobiography of Lady Docker will draw their own favourites.)

While Norah was being pursued by the judge and the duke, each gave her a wristlet watch to wear. ‘The only trouble I had then was to ensure I wore the right watch with the right escort!’ Don’t we all know that feeling?

Norah confessed to never keeping a diary (‘That always seemed too pretentious!’)

On Sir Bernard Docker’s family crest: ‘We had it set into the grey-stoned fireplace of the dining room – until Lord Louis Mountbatten came for lunch one day, and asked me what the Latin inscription meant. Blast it! I didn’t know! I had to ask Bernard, before I could tell Lord Louis the answer […] I had the damn thing removed and, in its place, put a circular plaque with a floral painting.’

When her son Lance Callingham auditioned for R.A.D.A, he didn’t get in (although we learn he was a great athlete and became the British Water Ski Champion in his teens, a title he was rewarded for four years in a row), but Norah was furious. She visited the principal of R.A.D.A. and told him the audition process was cruel and heartless. The principal told her simply that Lance did not want to become an actor: it was more her wish than his. Apparently the principal then told her that he was due to appear on television that week and he was terrified and he asked for her expert advice. ‘I didn’t envisage that I would end up at R.A.D.A. that day giving its Principal a lesson on television techniques, but that it precisely what happened!’

Sir Bernard Docker was president of a charity in Surrey (I am always on the look out for a Surrey story!) and Lady Norah Docker somehow managed to be the hostess for the Queen’s reception (although this was in 1951, so it was the Queen mother.) Norah was nervous but her ‘courage was restored, primarily by the quiet calm and gracious manner of the Queen herself.’ Then, the story unfolds. ‘Having curtsied to Her Majesty, I thought I had done my part. So, imagine my absolute consternation, when another of the officials, who was to have accompanied the Queen to the tea-room, was taken ill. I was asked, as the last-minute substitute, to take the Queen to tea.’ Norah was appalled at the sight of the tea on offer. ‘When I saw the thick, white china tea-set, and big, ugly, brown tea-pot, I was horrified. I apologised to the Queen. Her Majesty smiled and said warmly: “That doesn’t matter, Lady Docker, it’s a fine brew of tea just the same!”’ Norah then waited for the Queen to take her seat but, according to Lady Docker, the Queen said to her: “You are not going to let me have tea by myself, Lady Docker, are you?”

Norah Docker’s maid Charlotte Reed lost Norah’s £10,000 fur mink… and on one trip to New York, she forgot a pair of slacks and Norah and Bernard arranged for them to be flown out just for her!

The image of Norah Docker donning Marks and Spencer Y-Fronts to wear water-skiing is one that will stay with me…

Norah Docker secured a job designing a Daimler car, to try and raise the profile of the Daimler brand. ‘I was ashamed when I married Bernard, to discover that, both at home and abroad, the superb Daimler car was in danger of becoming a relic. As my husband was head of the Daimler company – a subsidiary of the Birmingham Small Arms group, of which he was chairman – I induced him to re-examine the firm’s marketing policies.’ Bernard was taken with the idea and asked Norah to join the company. She said ‘My enthusiasm was unbounded and a fresh meaning had come into my life.’ It was 1951, and because of austerity measures, chrome was almost impossible to obtain. ‘My first idea was that the bumpers, radiator, wing mirrors and other fittings, should be brass. This however, proved to be impractical as brass dulls.’ She recalled a conversation with one of Bernard’s assistants, who saw her in a black cocktail dress embellished with gold stars. The assistant ‘joked: “Still thinking about that car of yours? Why don’t you cover the bloody thing with gold stars, like those on your dress, and have done with it?”’ Unbelievably, she did just that. Years later, the car was sold for over seven thousand pounds to an American. Here is the best bit: ‘Unfortunately, the golden Daimler reached him stripped of its gold leaf – there was a Government order in force forbidding the export of gold. I can’t imagine they would have had much trouble in removing the gold. I found that I could scape it off with my fingernail, it was that thin.’ Brilliant!

Norah Docker wanted to revolutionise various clubs and society rules to allow women to join. Throughout the book she is a campaigner for equal rights for women!

At Lance’s christening party: ‘It took 500 bottles of champagne to wet the baby’s head! We had a marquee erected on the lawns […] It was really a double celebration, as it was my birthday, and the chefs marched in with a ham on which they had designed a life-size facial picture of me in gelatine!’ !!!

The Norah Autobiography is a brilliant, brilliant book, told straight from Norah Docker (via Don Short.) It is delightfully of its time, fearless and brave, yet so extremely ahead of its time too. Not much has changed, and  we all know someone like Norah Docker, a bit. Our reading experience feels like a complicated rollercoaster. Norah’s vulnerability appeals to us at first, and we go from rooting for her in her plight to slowly being stunned by her behaviour.

If you can find a copy, you will not be disappointed.

Norah: The Autobiography of Lady Docker was ghostwritten by Don Short and it was published in 1969 by W.H. Allen. 

UPDATE 5/12/22: Read more about it here!