Noting the small differences in their birth times, she went away and had both babies’ horoscopes prepared by an astrologer guru friend in California, who firmly recommended she take Camillus, not Anthony. So that when Pamela, in her forties, childless, husbandless and loverless and longing for a child, arrived in the nursery and saw the two tiny babies, my harassed grandfather said to her, like a grocer: “Take two, they’re small.” My grandfather, who had already been dumped with me and my sister Geraldine in three previous years, was anxious to get shot of the twins as soon as possible. Joseph Hone, who lived with Pamela Travers and his younger brother Camillus in the 50s.
She picked up Camillus in Dublin from my grandfather, where he had been landed with Anthony. He was a twin with his brother Anthony who, with another four children, were all to be abandoned by our parents in London. And from him she had adopted my younger brother Camillus in 1940. I would never have met Pamela but for the fact that she was a friend of my grandfather, old Joe Hone, friend and biographer of Yeats and George Moore.
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