Home Fires and Spitfires

by Daisy Styles

  Daisy Styles

  * * *

  HOME FIRES AND SPITFIRES

  Contents

  1. Mary Vale

  2. Barrow Shipyard

  3. Scandal

  4. Good News

  5. Gracie

  6. RAF Duxford

  7. Dunkirk

  8. East to West

  9. Market Gardening

  10. Butter and Chores

  11. Therapeutic Work

  12. An Invitation

  13. Grasmere

  14. Watendlath

  15. Alf Arkwright

  16. Leave

  17. Party

  18. Behind the Lines

  19. Novice

  20. Salves and Poultices

  21. Shockwaves

  22. A Breakfast of Ashes

  23. Frank Exchanges

  24. Ditched

  25. Cartmel Forest

  26. Baby’s First Gift

  27. Babies

  28. Basque Country

  29. Christmas Eve

  30. Surprise

  31. Mary Vale Farm

  32. Sour Milk Gill

  33

  34. Coming Home

  35. Arrangements

  36. St Mary’s, Allithwaite

  37. Good Luck! Goodbye! Farewell!

  38. Business Matters

  39. February

  40. On Top of the World

  41. Cartmel Cottage

  42. Spring Weddings, 1941

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Daisy Styles grew up in Lancashire surrounded by a family and community of strong women. She loved to listen to their stories of life in the cotton mill, in the home, at the pub, on the dancefloor, in the local church, or just what happened to them on the bus going into town. It was from these women, particularly her vibrant mother and Irish grandmother, that Daisy learnt the art of storytelling.

  By the same author

  The Bomb Girls

  The Code Girls

  The Bomb Girls’ Secrets

  Christmas with the Bomb Girls

  The Bomb Girl Brides

  The Wartime Midwives

  For my sister and my mother, Kate and Emily Redmond, with a hundred happy memories of growing up in the North West of England, close to the Lake District and the Irish Sea where this book is located. Happy days!

  1. Mary Vale

  May 1940

  Ward Sister Ada Dale came swinging out of Matron’s office with a radiant smile on her beautiful, young face. Only six months ago she had worried that a scandal that had rocked both the Sisters of Holy Mary and Mary Vale, their Home for Mothers and Babies, would destroy their reputation. But the Home’s former Matron, along with the shamed chairman of the Board of Governors, had been imprisoned for what they had done thereby vindicating Mary Vale Home and the convent too. During the trial the previous resident doctor had been struck off the list for his drunken misdemeanours, leaving the Home free to appoint a new young doctor – one whom everybody was keenly looking forward to working with. With the dark memories of the past regime laid to one side, Ada could only thank God that justice had been seen to be done, and they could carry on with the work they loved.

  Smiling to herself, Ada headed back to the ward, but as she passed the front door, which had been left wide open to let in the fresh air, she couldn’t resist slipping outside for five minutes. She walked quickly across the garden to the end of the terrace, from where she was always sure of getting the best views. Ada’s deep blue eyes sparkled with pleasure as she took in the vast dramatic sweep of Morecambe Bay, where the tide was making its way out.

  ‘God!’ she murmured softly to herself. ‘How I love this place.’

  Rock pools appeared in the sweeping, silvery, sage-green marsh, rich pickings for long-legged oystercatchers, redshanks and godwits, pecking and dibbling in the shallows for razor shells and rag worms. Gazing raptly from her vantage point on the terrace, Ada recalled a story she’d read in a local history book. Centuries ago, after docking at Heysham, Irish friars and pilgrims had hired expert guides to lead them on donkeys along the safe pathways that threaded through the treacherous quicksand of Morecambe Bay. Once safely on the eastern side of the bay, the pilgrims broke their long journey at Mary Vale, which had once been an ancient priory. After being given food, drink and a bed for the night, the pilgrims continued on their way to Furness Abbey.

  With the breeze teasing tendrils of golden-auburn hair from under her nurse’s cap, Ada’s thoughts returned to the present, and, even though she was warmed by the late-spring sunshine, she felt a shiver tingle all the way down her spine. It was becoming terrifyingly evident that the enemy were outpacing Britain on land, sea and sky. Nazi troops were making rapid progress across northern Europe, relentlessly pushing the British, French and Belgian troops back westwards. Even the new Prime Minister, bulldog-like Churchill, couldn’t provide the number of fighter planes the RAF would need to outpace the Luftwaffe’s supply of Messerschmitts, when the air war began in earnest.

  With the capital under the threat of attack from bombing-raids, evacuees were leaving London in their droves. Surely married pregnant women evacuated from their homes would be part of the movement north and might soon be making their way to Mary Vale? Ada wondered how their arrival would go down with the residents who came to the Home to hide away their shame and have their babies in private. Respectable, married evacuees would feel no shame about their condition, and they would have no secrets to hide. How would the two very different types of mothers-to-be react to each other? Ada’s wandering thoughts returned to the long-ago pilgrims breaking their journey at the ancient priory.

  ‘Mary Vale has been providing shelter from the storm for nearly a thousand years. Nothing much has changed,’ she thought to herself, smiling as she headed back into the Home.

  The appointment of a new and much trusted Matron could not have come at a better time. The promotion of Sister Ann, a nun of the order of the Sisters of Holy Mary and an experienced midwife too, filled the Mary Vale staff with hope and excitement.

  ‘I never in the world of God expected it,’ Sister Ann had humbly confessed to Ada when she was told of her promotion.

  Laughing, Ada had given her old friend a reassuring hug. ‘God made you for the job – you’ll be perfect!’ she had exclaimed. ‘After all the upsets we’ve had, the Reverend Mother is wisely taking no chances. She needs a Matron of impeccable character – who better than you?’ Ada reasoned. ‘An excellent midwife – and a nun to boot!’

  Sister Ann’s gentle brown eyes twinkled as she blushingly dismissed Ada’s praise. ‘Get away with you, Ada.’

  ‘I’m not saying I won’t miss you,’ Ada blurted out.

  Sister Ann wagged a finger in the air. ‘I can be a midwife as well as Matron, don’t you go forgetting that. My only request on taking the job was that I’d still be nursing our mothers and babies.’

  Ada beamed. ‘Thank heavens for that. I’d be lost without you.’

  ‘The new nurse should ease the situation,’ Sister Ann added thoughtfully. ‘She comes with a lot of experience and was highly recommended.’

  Ada gave an indulgent smile. ‘Dora.’

  ‘Nurse Saddleworth,’ Sister Ann added.

  ‘How she loves those babies,’ Ada reflected.

  ‘Just as well,’ Sister Ann replied. ‘Mary Vale has plenty of them.’

  Checking her fob watch, Ada quickly said, ‘I’ve got ten minutes before I go back to work – might now be a convenient time to discuss Shirley?’

  Sister Ann positively glowed with pride. ‘Miss Shirley. Our newest postulant.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Ada agreed. ‘Her new life is now with you in the conve
nt, but you know better than anybody how much Shirley loves to help out in the Home.’

  ‘Baking bread in the kitchen, tidying the wards, mopping the floors and lending a hand with feeds in the nursery,’ Sister Ann said, smiling.

  ‘Really, there’s no stopping her!’ Ada cried.

  ‘It’s a transitional period between convent life and the life of the Home,’ Sister Ann answered calmly. She gave a small sigh as she recalled her first sight of Shirley, heavily pregnant and barely more than a child herself. ‘She was barely able to speak when she first arrived here.’

  Ada’s blue eyes swam with tears as she too recalled the terrified young girl who had arrived after years of abuse from her own father.

  ‘Staying on here after her baby’s adoption, working as a ward assistant, gave Shirley not only a role but dignity and status too,’ Sister Ann added thoughtfully. ‘And it led her to God.’

  Returning to the immediacy of the moment Ada continued, ‘As much as we appreciate Shirley’s unstinting help, I worry that she might be spending too much time on her knees on the wards rather than on her knees in the chapel. She always says she’s closer to God when she’s on her hands and knees beside a mop bucket,’ she giggled. ‘But I would hate the dear girl to get into trouble.’

  Sister Ann waved a hand in the air. ‘There’s no fear of that, Ada. Shirley’s commitment to becoming a nun is rock solid; her only problem is she’d like to have been received into the Church yesterday rather than in five years’ time. Part of Shirley’s spiritual training will be learning how to balance her time between her studies, her prayers and her vocational work. Don’t worry, the child will get there in the end,’ she said with confidence.

  Ada scraped back her chair and rose to leave. ‘I just needed to check the situation with you. I wouldn’t like to be accused of exploiting a nun,’ she quipped as she left the room.

  After her heart-to-heart with the new Matron, Ada felt easier in her mind about Shirley, whom she found sitting on a chair beside the new nurse, Dora, busy changing babies’ nappies. Shirley was competent enough when it came to handling babies, but she seemed a novice compared to Nurse Saddleworth, who confidently lifted each baby on to her aproned lap and deftly removed the pins from their dirty nappies, which were then removed and dropped into a bucket containing sanitizing fluid. After gently cleaning each baby, she slipped on a white terry-towelling nappy, then lifted it on to her shoulder and gently stroked its back.

  ‘Clean and fresh as a daisy,’ she cooed, as she bounced each contented child.

  Shirley gaped at her in awe. ‘How did you learn to change nappies so quickly?’

  ‘Years and years of working at the coal face,’ Dora replied with a grin.

  Impressed, Shirley shook her head, as she struggled to balance a baby on her skinny lap.

  Dora whacked her own hefty thighs. ‘Get some flesh on you, girl!’ she cried. ‘You need thighs as big as a coffee table to change a baby.’

  Picking up a mewling baby boy, whom she laid across her wide lap, Dora demonstrated what she meant. ‘Look! Solid as a rock!’ she boasted.

  ‘I see you two will be busy for a while,’ Ada remarked as she approached. ‘Shall I get rid of the dirty buckets and bring you fresh ones, Nurse Saddleworth?’

  Dora beamed at Ada. ‘Aye, thanks very much – a fresh bucket would be right welcome. Yon one’s stinking the place out.’

  Ada picked up the heavy bucket. ‘Back in a tick,’ she said.

  After rinsing the dirty nappies in the sluice-sink, Ada quickly filled up the empty bucket with warm water and sanitizing liquid.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, as she returned it to Dora.

  Settling the baby she had just changed in his little canvas cot, Shirley quietly informed Ada that she had to be in the chapel by eleven.

  Ada’s loving heart lurched at the sight of Shirley’s sweet, earnest face. Who would ever have thought that this lovely young woman with eyes that seemed to reflect the beauty of her soul was the same person who had tried to take her own life in the vast, dangerous waters of Morecambe Bay?

  ‘Of course, dear,’ Ada answered warmly.

  As Shirley rose to go, Dora spoke with an emotional catch. ‘Say one for my boys, sweetheart.’

  Shirley nodded kindly. ‘I always pray for all the brave lads fighting for our country,’ she answered sincerely. ‘I even pray for the German lads we kill,’ she admitted with tears in her eyes.

  Dora rolled her eyes. ‘Well, you would, being a nun and all. I’m afraid my prayers don’t extend that far. I worry myself sick about my lads, both serving in the Royal Navy, not together unfortunately – and nowhere either of them can mention in their letters home,’ she said miserably.

  Shirley gave Dora a soothing pat on the arm. ‘Of course, I’ll say extra special prayers for your sons,’ she promised, before leaving for the chapel that was attached to the convent.

  ‘She’s a sweet little lass,’ Dora murmured as she watched Shirley go.

  Ada smiled in complete agreement. ‘The girl’s a treasure,’ she said fervently. ‘Is it all right if I leave you to finish off here while I check the ante-natal ward?’

  ‘Off you go, Sister,’ Dora replied. ‘Don’t you worry, I can manage.’

  Ada had no doubts that Dora could manage. They had had a number of applicants for the post of Ward Nurse, but Dora Saddleworth had literally stood out head and shoulders above the rest. Before joining the Mary Vale team, she had worked as Senior Nurse in a number of maternity homes in the area, her references positively glowed, and, an added perk, she lived locally and never baulked at the long shifts. In Dora’s short time at Mary Vale, the staff had been impressed by her warmth and compassion both with the mothers and the babies. She was skilful and unflappable in the delivery suite, and her easy-going nature made her popular with staff and residents alike. Ada was sure that buxom Dora Saddleworth, with her greying, curly hair, twinkling eyes and ready smile, was an asset to the Home and a friend in the making.

  After Ada had checked her patients with the most imminent delivery dates, she popped into Father Ben’s office, which was close to the chapel and always smelt of candles and incense. The minute she saw the priest’s beaming smile she knew he had good news for her.

  ‘Come in, come in, Ada,’ he cried, as he beckoned her towards his desk. ‘Our prayers have been answered: we finally have our own doctor!’ he announced as he drew out a chair for her.

  Ada grinned as she sat down opposite Father Ben. ‘You’re within spitting distance of the chapel,’ she teased. ‘You must be first in line for getting prayers answered.’

  ‘God is good,’ he agreed. ‘But we haven’t got it all our own way: we’ll be sharing the new doctor with a GP’s practice in Barrow.’

  Too relieved to quibble, Ada shrugged. ‘Some of a doctor is better than none at all.’

  ‘My feelings entirely,’ the priest agreed. ‘With so many doctors serving at the Front, I’m sure the ones who remain have to spread themselves thin.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Ada asked.

  ‘Dr James Reid,’ Father Ben told her. ‘The Reverend Mother and I were very impressed by the young man’s credentials, especially when we heard that he had specialized in obstetrics at Leeds Infirmary.’

  Ada threw the priest (who had become a dear and trusted friend during her time at Mary Vale) a curious look. ‘Wonder why he hasn’t been called up?’ she enquired.

  ‘We had to ask the exact same question at the interview,’ Father Ben admitted. ‘It was a bit awkward, to be honest.’

  Knowing full well the depths of Father Ben’s compassion, Ada gave the priest an indulgent smile. ‘I’m sure you were very sensitive, Father.’

  ‘Poor chap, he told us at that he had contracted polio as a child, which left him lame in one leg,’ Father Ben explained. ‘He was declared unfit when he tried to sign up with the Royal Army Medical Corps.’

  ‘Heavens!’ Ada exclaimed. ‘He must spend a great deal of
his time justifying his civilian status to the straight-talking folk of Barrow-in-Furness.’ Her sparkling blue eyes widened as she added excitedly, ‘I for one welcome him unconditionally and with open arms.’

  ‘Absolutely, my dear,’ Father Ben agreed. ‘But bear in mind, Ada, if the war continues, as I’m quite sure it will, Dr Reid may well be called up, lame or not.’

  Ada rose to leave but, before she did, she fondly planted a kiss on Father Ben’s bald head. ‘Ever the realist,’ she teased.

  Beaming, Father Ben called after his favourite nurse, ‘God bless you, my child!’

  Walking back on to the post-natal ward, Ada found a few girls lying on their beds, clearly feeling a little weepy. Experience had taught Ada that high emotion was only to be expected after the trauma of childbirth, which was inevitably followed by radical changes in the girls’ bodies. Engorged breasts, sore nipples and their hormones all over the place inevitably reduced new mothers to tears; in addition, most of them were shortly to lose the baby they’d only just given birth to. Ada quietly approached a young girl whose baby girl she had delivered that morning.

  ‘Oh, Sister!’ the girl cried when she saw Ada. ‘How’s my little girl?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ Ada assured her. ‘She had a few sips of sterile water, then fell fast asleep. I’ll try her with a bottle later on.’

  The poor girl pointed to her large, tender breasts. ‘I’ve got enough milk to feed an army.’

  ‘You can feed her, dear, if you really want to, but is that wise?’ Ada gently asked.

  The girl’s eyes flooded with tears. ‘You mean feeding her might make it harder for me to part with her?’ she cried. ‘I want to keep her, I love her,’ she said wildly. ‘Mi mam said she’d look after her when I go back to work at the cotton mill, but mi dad said ’e’s ’aving no bastard child under his roof.’

  Ada gave a deep inward sigh. How many times had she heard the same tragic story? Mary Vale provided for rich and poor women alike; the better-off girls paid for their stay from their own funds, while the poorer girls (who made up the majority of the Home’s residents) were dependent on the convent’s charitable trust. In exceptional circumstances (like a young homeless woman found wandering the streets) the convent could offer an entirely free place. Women arrived at the Home when their pregnancy started to show; their stay normally consisted of the four or five months before their due date. Once the babies were born, the mothers were expected to leave within a month to six weeks after their delivery; some girls couldn’t get away from the place fast enough, while others clung on, dreading the moment when they would be forced to hand over their child for adoption. The girl sobbing on the bed was one such.