Olga - A Daughter's Tale

by Marie-Therese Browne (Marie Campbell)

  “Jesus Christ, what day is it”?

  “April 1st” I said, shocked by her blaspheming.

  And then she started laughing “Trust you to arrive on April Fool’s Day, Olga”.

  I didn’t answer not understanding what she meant but I knew she wasn’t paying me a compliment. I was hungry, cold, tired and this was not the welcome I had been expecting.

  For a start Aunt Martha should have met me when the S.S. Jamaica Progress docked this morning in London. The Progress is a cargo boat carrying fruit, mainly bananas, and the Royal Mail, but also has room for a few passengers. On this trip there were 12 of us including me and, of course, my chaperone, Mrs Brodie, a friend of the family, who was going to England for a holiday and whom Sydney had asked to keep an eye on me during the trip.

  Did he think I might fall overboard?

  Anyway, it never occurred to me that Aunt Martha wouldn’t be there and I was very grateful that Mrs Brodie waited with me a for a while, but eventually she said she had to leave. With a confidence I certainly wasn’t feeling I assured her I would be fine on my own. Just in case Aunt Martha didn’t arrive Mrs. Brodie showed me where there was a taxi rank and, checking I had enough money to pay for it, kissed me goodbye and went on her way. Sitting in the waiting room I felt very homesick.

  After waiting for her for nearly three hours I decided to take a taxi to Aunt Martha’s home, 23 Chilworth Street, Paddington. I knew she lived on the third floor of a block of flats because last time she was in Kingston she told us at dinner one evening how Londoners were not very friendly. Aunt Martha likes a drink and one day she was in a pub when a lady sitting a few feet away from her became ill. Aunt Martha offered to take her back to her home and discovered that the woman lived in the flat beneath her in Chilworth Street.

  As I struggled up the three flights of concrete steps to Aunt Martha’s flat with two heavy suitcases I thought, Londoners are not only unfriendly, they’re unreliable too.

  ******

  Letter to Mammie, Mission House, Kingston

  from

  Olga, 23 Chilworth Street, London

  Dearest Mammie

  I couldn’t sleep last night. When I closed my eyes I saw us all on Kingston docks crying. It was hard saying goodbye, wasn’t it, and Mammie you looked so worried. Fancy Pops coming down as well. It was nice you were both there. I don’t remember ever seeing you together before. And wasn’t Sydney thoughtful and kind making sure I had everything I needed. He told me to be sure to ask Aunt Martha if I need anything and he said he’d be coming to London in two or three months, so I would see him them.

  Including me and Mrs Brodie, there were only twelve passengers on the boat, two widow ladies, myself and another single young lady and two married couples, three single men, two were students and the third single man was an engineer. We all got on very well together and made up our own entertainment in the evening with little concerts which we all took part in. I was persuaded to sing a few times and got a very nice round of applause each time. The engineer performed some magic tricks, which sometimes went wrong, but we pretended we hadn’t noticed or else we played card games like gin rummy or canasta while the older people played bridge.

  As a matter of fact Mammie, I was invited to sit at the Captain’s table four times during the journey; it’s a great honour, you know and I felt very important. The crossing seemed to go quickly and it was very good until we got close to England and then it rained a lot and the sea was a bit rough.

  Aunt Martha has a nice little two bedroom flat and, guess what, I have my own bedroom but you probably know that.

  On my first morning here, Aunt Martha brought me breakfast in bed and later on took me to Lyons Corner House which is huge and there are restaurants on four levels. On the ground floor level is the food hall where you can buy different things like ham and cheese, pastries and specially made chocolates, wines, tea and, guess what, coffee and fruit from, guess where? ……Jamaica!

  And on the floors above are more restaurants with an orchestra playing in each one. Aunt Martha and I went to the tearoom and she ordered afternoon tea which arrived on delicate china plates with some scones, dainty sandwiches and little cakes. I only had a little bit to eat because I thought it was good manners not to eat all the food in front of us. But I was wrong, I should have eaten more, because Aunt Martha finished the whole lot.

  All the waitresses wore black and white uniforms and Aunt Martha says their called Nippies, when I asked her why ,she said “because they nip in and out of the tables quickly”. Isn’t that funny? I thought they looked so smart in their uniforms and said to Aunt Martha that I might change my mind about going to Madame Verschaka’s School of Dance and become a Nippie for a few months.

  “I don’t think so dear,” she said. “To come all this way from Jamaica and end up as a waitress doesn’t seem such a good idea to me”

  Well, at least it’s work, I thought to myself but didn’t say anything. With so many out of work back home I bet lots of people would love a job like that. When the bill came, Aunt Martha said,

  “Oh, that’s a bit expensive, but never mind Olga, you’re worth it”. Wasn’t that nice?

  The weather has been horrible, cold and wet. One day smog covered the whole of London all day and you could barely see in front of your hand and bus conductors were walking in front of their buses to guide them. I missed Jamaica a lot that day. Aunt Martha says its smoke that comes from factory chimneys and buses. There are signs that Londoners are preparing for war. There are air raid shelters being built and sticky tape is stuck across windows to prevent people being cut by flying glass and splinters when the bombs come. Aunt Martha says it’s difficult to know what to think because one minute the war’s on and the next it’s off.

  My favourite place, Mammie, is Regent’s Park Zoo. There are all sorts of animals there, lions, tigers, elephants, monkeys, snakes, beautiful big birds and sweet little birds. Even before I get to the zoo I can hear the lions roaring and the monkeys whooping. I feed the monkeys but you’re not allowed to feed the wilder animals, so I watch the zoo keepers feed the elephants, lions and bears.

  And I’ve discovered a beautiful Catholic church called St James in Spanish Place, not far from Aunt Martha but, do you know what, I don’t think she goes to church quite so much in London as she does in Jamaica.

  I say my prayers every night Mammie and go to mass on Sundays at St James. It doesn’t feel the same as the Holy Trinity Cathedral but I still like it a lot.

  I miss you all. Please write soon.

  Your loving daughter Olga

  ******

  Dear Diary

  Bad news: I’m in despair. Madame Verschaka’s School of Dance have written to me.

  “We do not have a place available for six months, at which time we will be delighted to accept you as a pupil.”

  That’s no good, I need a place now!

  I told Aunt Martha and she said she couldn’t afford to keep me if I was going to remain in London. I don’t know what she means “she can’t afford to keep me” because I know Sydney gave her plenty of money to cover the cost of my stay, but she says there’s hardly any left because food is expensive and I eat a lot.

  Well, honestly, I don’t think I do, but I didn’t dare argue with her. Thank goodness Sydney will be here soon, but I suppose I’ll have to go back to Jamaica with him. So far my visit has been disappointing and I haven’t enjoyed myself the way Birdie does when she comes to London.

  ******

  Dear Diary

  Fed up: Went to Trafalgar Square yesterday to feed the pigeons, but, I was in and out of that Square like a bullet.

  I sat down and as soon as I pulled out my bag of breadcrumbs, pigeons surrounded me and started pecking at my paper bag trying to get the bread out and there were lots of them around my feet picking up the breadcrumbs – it felt like I was being attacked, so I dropped the breadcrumbs and ran.

  Now I prefer to sit here on a bench in Regent’s Park an
d feed the little birds, they’re much gentler. Took my diary with me today so I could read again about my going away party in the Bournemouth Club, Kingston’s best night club.

  It was a wonderful night with the club decorated with streamers and balloons and hanging from the ceiling, strung across the middle of the room was a whopping big sign.

  “Goodbye Olga. We’ll miss you”. Wasn’t that nice?

  There was a band and lots of food and all my friends and family laughing, joking, hugging and kissing me and giving me going away presents.

  But the biggest shock that night came from Michael Sales. Michael was in the same class as me at Alpha Academy and he was a holy terror. His favourite past time was putting a mirror under some of the girls’ skirts, including mine, so he could see what colour knickers we were wearing. He nearly got expelled once for doing it and it was only because his mother pleaded with the Headmistress to give him one more chance, that he wasn’t. Anyway, he must have learnt his lesson because he quietened down a lot and was much nicer because of it. As a matter of fact he went out with one of my best friends, Elise Ferguson, for a while.

  But at my going away party he handed me a present with a card. Inside, was a pair of beautiful pearl ear-rings. No doubt about it, that is the nicest present I have ever received.

  “Olga, when you come back, I want you to be my proper girl friend. I promise I will wait for you and I won’t go out with anyone else while you’re away” he said.

  I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think he liked me that much. Boys, don’t really, you know. They like to talk to me about the problems they have with their girl friends because they say I’m a good listener, but they never like me in that special way.

  My friend, Carmen Cadoza, has boys buzzing round her like bees in a honey pot and honestly, sometimes she treats the boys like they don’t exist. She says the secret of being successful with men is to play hard to get. Michael was going to be my first boyfriend. I wanted to cry I was so happy, but instead I gave him a little kiss on the cheek and said I would love to be his girlfriend and for a few minutes, I wondered, do I really want to go to England. But I dismissed the thought immediately because it would be something to look forward to when I come home.

  On the same page is the holy picture of the Sacred Heart that Father Butler gave me when he came to say goodbye. He’d written on the back:

  Dear Olga

  Bon voyage and a happy stay in London.

  Be a good girl and don’t forget to say your prayers.

  God bless you

  Reading about that evening and how happy I was then and how miserable I am feeling now made me sad and homesick. I felt lonely sitting on that bench in the park. I was hugging my diary with both hands, my head buried in my chest and gently rocking back and forth and I wasn’t aware someone had sat down beside me.

  “Are you alright”. I heard someone say.

  When I looked up I saw a beautiful brown face smiling at me.

  “My name’s Joanne” she said, smiling at me.

  My spirits lifted immediately and we started talking. And guess where she came from….Jamaica!! I couldn’t believe it because there aren’t too many Jamaicans in London, I can tell you.

  Joanne comes from a big family, just like me, and they live in St Ann’s Bay. We talked about our families and home and even though she’s been in London for two years studying nursing at Paddington General Hospital, Joanne still misses her family a lot.

  I said I missed my friends and was lonely and whenever someone sits next to me on the park bench, like the nannies who push the babies in the prams, I always smile and say hello and hope that they will talk to me, but they don’t, they either pretend they haven’t heard me or get up and walk away.

  “Thank goodness for the keepers in the zoo”.

  “They’re friendly and they tell me all about the animals like elephants or the tigers and the bears” I said

  “I like London a lot, but it can be the loneliest place in the world” Joanne told me.

  Oh she’s really lovely. I’m so happy we met. Joanne says when she’s a fully qualified nurse then she’s going back to Jamaica to work. When I told her why I had come to London she was surprised and said didn’t my parents realise that England could go to war any day. I said that the Prime Minister had Hitler’s promise not to invade Europe any more, so Mammie and Sydney felt it was safe for me to come over, and, anyway, Sydney would be here soon and I’d be going back to Jamaica with him.

  Two hours later, and much happier, I said goodbye to Joanne, but we arranged to meet in the park the following week.

  ******

  Chapter twenty

  Olga’s Diary

  Dear Diary

  The wicked witch: AM (that’s Aunt Martha) being horrible. Very bad tempered. There are two versions of her, the English version (the true one) and the Jamaican version (the false one). She still says I’m eating too much and I have to eat less even though I’ve given her nearly all of my money and I don’t think I have enough to last until Sydney comes.

  She says I have to pay my way so I must clean the flat and do her washing and ironing. Now she’s treating me like a servant.

  “You might as well wash and iron Mr Kitchen’s clothes the same time you do mine” she said.

  “I’ll do your chores, because I have the time, but I’m not doing his and if you insist then I’ll write to Mammie and Sydney and tell them what you’re asking me to do” I threatened.

  “There’s no need for that, Olga, just do mine”.

  Good job done, Olga, a small big victory and very nice it feels too. Mr Kitchen is AM’s latest “gentleman friend” and the pair of them go out drinking nearly every night. They always come home drunk and Mr Kitchen usually stays overnight (in AM’s bedroom!) and I hear him creeping out of the front door early in the morning. Mammie and Sydney would be shocked if they knew.

  AM says they’re engaged to be married, but I don’t think Mr Kitchen knows that.

  Wonder what the neighbours think?

  AM is cruel when she’s been drinking. Told me that I would never get a husband.

  “No man would find someone as plain and boring as you, Olga, attractive. Where were you when God was handing out the looks”. She’s not a very nice person, you know. I know I’m not as pretty as my sisters, but Mammie says I have other qualities which are more important than looks.

  Should have said to her “where were you when God was handing out the looks”. But that would have been unkind too and, anyway, after hearing her give Mr Kitchen a good few slaps with the frying pan the other evening, I stay in my room now when she’s been drinking.

  AM had chicken pox when she was a child and to stop her picking at the sores on her face her parents bandaged her hands. But AM still managed to pick them and as a result her face is badly pockmarked. She was teased a lot at school by the other children because of it and Aunt Lucy says that contributed to AM’s “effortless transition from bad tempered child to a cantankerous, mean spirited woman”. Had to look up in the dictionary what cantankerous meant and Aunt Lucy’s got it dead right. AM’s bad tempered and unreasonable.

  To keep out of her way I spend a lot of time wandering around London and one day I was walking along Baker Street when this car hooted and when I turned round to see who it was, it was Roy McKenzie from Jamaica. I couldn’t believe it, in fact, I didn’t even know he was in London.

  I immediately remembered that day when I was hanging from a tree by my knickers and felt embarrassed when we said hello, even though Aunt Lucy and Mammie had got me down from the tree before he saw me.

  “Olga, look at you, you look good, how nice to see you”. He seemed really pleased to see me,

  He told me to hop in the car and he took me for a lovely drive around London. He asked me what I was doing in London and how long I was staying. I told him about the dance school and what I’d been doing since I arrived and he told me he ran a gambling and drinking club in London called the Fr
ivolity. He knew I had a good singing voice and asked me to come down and sing at his club now and again. Because I had no money I was tempted. Maybe I’ll pop down one evening I thought to myself, it might be fun.

  I asked him if he thought there was going to be a war with Germany and he said he hoped not because it could be bad for his business.

  He stopped the car round the corner from Chilworth Street and wrote down the address of the Frivolty on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

  He asked me how things were going with Aunt Martha and I just shrugged my shoulders. He took out his wallet, which, by the way, was full of money, and took out one of the notes in it.

  “Here, take this, but don’t tell Aunt Martha you’ve got it or she’ll talk you into giving it to her and, definitely, don’t tell her that you’ve seen me. I’ve seen her operating in the Den of Inequity and I don’t want her in my club.” I looked in my hand and there was a lovely big white £5 note. I hugged him. I told him Sydney would be over soon and would repay him.

  “Remember, Olga, anytime you want to earn some money singing, you know where I am now”. And then he was gone. I had such a lovely afternoon with Roy, but most of all it was comforting to know there was someone who would help me if I needed it.

  ******

  Dear Diary

  Big surprise: Met Joanne in the park today and went to the cinema to see a romantic comedy called “Too Hot to Handle” with Myrna Loy and Clark Gable. Very funny.

  Afterwards, we went to Joe Lyons for our usual treat, a knickerbocker glory, before Joanne had to return to the hospital. She’s a bit worried because she hasn’t heard from her family for a while and I said I would contact them when I returned to Jamaica. That reassured her a lot and I was pleased to be able to make her feel better because I know she has lots of studying to do for exams but she still finds time to be my friend.