Then they took me round the building and explained how the baby nursery takes babies from six months up to two years old. The baby room is on the top floor of the house and there is a play room next to it which is full of soft and wooden toys made by the local people living in the area and my bedroom is on the same floor.
Then they showed me around the toddler nursery which takes day children from two to five years of age. The day children are able to come to the nursery any time after 7.30 in the morning and have to be picked up by 6 in the evening. The nursery is on the first floor and also has a playroom as well as a sleeping room for the children to rest in during the day. Each toddler has their own overall, towel and flannel, which is kept on their own peg. Sister Pateman and Sister Warner’s bedrooms are on that floor.
On the ground floor are two bathrooms each with electric fires over the bath and the staff dining room. Next to the air raid shelter in the basement is the laundry room where there is a big sink with a wringer.
Each baby has its own cot and bedding and every day nappies have to be boiled as well as washing the cot sheets and towels. When I saw the amount of washing that had to be done I thought I can’t do this job, I won’t cope, but Sister must have seen my face, because she said I would not be doing the washing. A local girl comes in each day and does it and another woman comes in two afternoons a week to do the ironing.
“They were desperate for some help and you were a godsend to them Olga”, Miss Franks said later.
For the first time in a very long time I felt happy, it meant free board and food for Marie and me and I got paid as well. I’d have done the job just for the board and food.
Six months after Marie was taken away from me I’ve got her back and I will never, never, never, EVER give her up again to anyone.
I miss my family.
******
Dear Diary
The baby room is painted in pretty pale colours, yellow, pink and blue with pictures of bunny rabbits, kittens and puppies stuck on the walls. There are ten cots in a row, each one containing a precious baby, and now the sisters have put another cot at the end of the row, for Marie. Now all I have to do is look after all of them.
Thank goodness the babies have a timetable. With one of the Sisters help, I bath the babies every other morning. I’m only allowed to make up enough baby food for one feed at a time and although it’s against the rules, the only way I can feed so many babies who are crying for their milk at the same time, is to prop up a bottle in the first baby’s mouth and then move on to the next baby.
After the babies have been fed I change their nappies and then it seems as if I have to start all over again. It’s an endless round of feeding, changing nappies and giving the babies a little cuddle. In the afternoon I put them either in a cot or, if the weather is good, in a pram outside.
When it’s quiet, I have to write up the babies’ reports. It’s the noisiest place to work in because there is always two or three babies crying at once. But I don’t mind. I have Marie with me. She is beautiful and so good, she rarely cries. I try to be fair and not pay her more attention than the other babies. Thank God I’m always busy I don’t have time to think about Mammie and home. I’m so tired by the end of the day. Sister Pateman and Sister Warner are very, very kind to me.
******
Dear Diary
My good friend Moores wrote to me and told me she’s decided nursing is not for her so she’s going home to live with her parents. She wanted to come and see me before she left, but I wrote and told her I was too busy but I promised to keep in touch. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her, I did, but I just couldn’t bear saying goodbye to her. I’m such a coward.
It’s been a long time since any bombs were dropped on London and just when everyone thought the war was nearly over that horrible Hitler has sent over a new type of bomb. It’s called a “doodlebug”, It makes a low buzzing noise like a motorbike then there is silence, which is its engine cutting out and it glides without a sound for a few seconds, then explodes.
Last night I sat on the stairs and in the distance I heard a doodlebug. It got louder and louder until it seemed like it was overhead when suddenly it stopped and there was silence. I counted to ten and waited for the explosion, but it landed in the distance. We were safe, but maybe somebody else wasn’t so lucky. Whenever the sirens went off we are supposed to take the babies downstairs into the basement but by the time we’ve moved the cots down there, the all clear sounds and it’s all over. Wimbledon has been hit a few times during these raids but has not suffered as much as some other parts of London where the devastation has been huge. Even during the Blitz moral in the capital wasn’t as low as it is now.
******
Dear Diary
A few nights ago I heard a strange sound coming from one of the cots. As I went down the row checking each baby, I realised the sound was coming from the end cot where Marie was. The sound was her struggling to breathe. Sister Pateman examined her and said Marie was ill. She had pneumonia. She told me to go and look after the other babies and she and Sister Warner would see to her.
They put her into one of the bathrooms, put on the electric fire, turned the hot water on and filled up the bath so the bathroom was full of steam. I was desperate to help my baby and told them that back home when I had scarlet fever, Mammie boiled some onions and put them in muslin cloth and tied them round my ankles, and that helped bring down my temperature.
“Shall I boil some onions”? I asked them.
“No, Olga, go and look after the other babies and don’t worry, we’ll see to Marie”.
Then about every hour throughout the night they took turns watching over Marie, running the hot water so the level of steam remained high helping Marie to breathe. Any spare minute I could, I prayed to God not to take away from me the one thing that made the pain of what happened, the loss of my family and my loneliness bearable.
Two days after Marie was taken ill Sister Warner took her out of the bathroom and put her back into the nursery. With the help of God and two wonderful women, Marie had fought for her little life and won.
******
Dear Diary
Marie is walking now and we have to leave here because she is disturbing the babies. The Sisters have asked me what I’m going to do. I think I’ll get a job in a private house so Marie will be able to come with me.
******
Chapter twenty Eight
Olga’s Diary
Dear Diary
Colonel & Mrs Hurt: Sister Warner sent me to Massey’s Employment Agency in Baker Street, London, to apply for a live-in cook/housekeeper position so that I can have Marie with me. The reception room was very big with four cubicles down one side of the room. Two of the cubicles had a curtain drawn across them for privacy and in the other two there was a small table and two chairs.
There were three well dressed women waiting and behind a big desk was a middle aged woman with glasses that sat on the end of her nose. Her grey hair was plaited into two pigtails, each one pinned either side of her head. She looked very stern, but, when I went up to her she smiled at me. I told her my name and that I wanted a job as a cook, although I couldn’t cook, but was willing learn. She told me to go and wait in one of the cubicles and draw the curtain.
I sat there for a few minutes on my own and then a tall, slender, elegant lady came into the cubicle and sat down opposite me. She said her name was Mrs Hurt and she had a big house in Billericay in Essex. She had two sons Michael and Edward, who were away in the Navy and she needed someone to help keep her house orderly and cook for her, her husband, who was retired, and her daughter-in-law. She said she has a cook at the moment, Mrs Attwood, who has worked for Mrs Hurt over 30 years, but she is old now and wants to retire. Mrs Hurt asked me to tell her something about myself.
I told her my name, but said everyone calls me Carmen. I don’t know why I said that really, because it’s not true. I’ve never liked the name Olga and Carmen sounds so much prett
ier.
I told her I had a baby daughter and I wanted a job where she could come with me. I said I hadn’t a husband and, I waited for her to ask questions why, but she didn’t. So I continued explaining that I wanted a job in a private house as a cook, although I couldn’t cook, but I was willing to learn. I thought it seemed a lot to ask.
“Carmen, Mrs Attwood can teach you to cook, so how would you like to come and work for me”. My heart leapt.
“I would love to”.
******
Hendon House: A week later she picked me up from the nursery in her car and drove me and Marie down to Hendon House, her home in Billericay. It was a great big house and in the hall is a grandfather clock that chimes on the hour, every hour, and always makes me jump when I hear it. There is a wide spiral mahogany staircase with pictures hanging on dark rich wood panelling, Rembrandt and Reynolds type paintings of the Hurts’ ancestors, their eyes following you as you climb the stairs.
Marie and I have the west wing all to ourselves, which sounds very grand I know, but really it is just a bedroom and our very own sitting room and bathroom.
How wonderful! My very own bathroom.
Mrs Attwood and her husband have their own little cottage in the village. Of course, I knew with the war going on it was hard for people like Mrs Hurt to find staff because women were being called up to work for the war effort but even so, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be offered this job and was determined to do my best.
As soon as I had unpacked, I’d handed our rations books to Mrs Hurt. There was no shortage of fresh vegetables there because they grew their own and had done for years. They also had orchards with apple, pear and plum trees and they kept chickens.
On my first day Mrs Attwood showed me where the vegetable garden was and asked me to pull up some lettuces and then wash them. I returned flushed with success with two beautiful lettuces and went to the scullery to wash them thoroughly under running water. When I took them in to the kitchen Mrs Hurt was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and when Mrs Attwood saw the lettuce.
“What the hell have you done to them?”
“The water was so cold I washed them in hot water” I told her.
She and Mrs Hurt thought it was hilarious and the pair of them couldn’t stop laughing.
Every morning I have to make up a breakfast tray for Captain and Mrs Hurt and take it to their room. They are an elderly couple and are usually still in bed when I knock on the door. The pair of them look so sweet sitting up side by side in their bed. They talk to each other with great affection; honestly they are lovely. I call them Derby and Joan to Mrs Attwood but not in front to their faces.
Later on I have to tidy their bedroom and then tidy and dust the drawing room. Although the drawing room is big, it has a homely feel to it. There is a grand fireplace with a mantelpiece above and it has a beautiful marble clock on it.
The sofas and armchairs are big and comfortable and the occasional tables on either side each have a bronze table lamp, as well as lots of photographs of the children. There’s a rosewood sideboard with a pair of matching vases and Mrs Attwood told me they are very rare and worth a lot of money. I wish she hadn’t told me that because now I dread dusting them in case I break them. On the walls are even more pictures of the Hurts’ ancestors.
There’s a glass cabinet which has their porcelain tea service displayed in it. In the corner is a wind up gramophone and a big pile of records. It reminds me of the Nurses Home in St Giles because we had one in the sitting room. I try not to think about St Giles; I get upset if I do.
Miss Judith, is married to Michael, Captain and Mrs Hurt’s youngest son, and has two lovely boys, Patrick, who was nine and Nicholas, who was 10. They are at boarding school in Windsor but home now for the school holidays. Patrick has taken a fancy to Marie and wherever he goes he takes her with him.
Captain Hurt is very fond of Marie too. He came into the kitchen this morning and said
“She’ll only bother you here, why don’t you let her help me pick some apples”.
They have an apple orchard and grow coxes apples and they were the sweetest apples I’ve ever tasted. When I went to fetch Marie the other day, she was wearing Captain Hurt’s hat and they were both walking together with their heads bowed and hands behind their backs.
Oh God she looked so cute.
I received a letter with a Christmas card in it today.
It was such a surprise when Mrs Hurt handed it to me. It had been on a long journey. Matron, at St Giles, had forwarded it to the Refuge. Miss Franks had forwarded it on to Sister Pateman, who thank goodness, had put it in a fresh envelope, with a little note to me saying she hoped Marie and I were well and please keep in touch with them. At first I was so excited when I opened the envelope and saw the letter was from Ruby and when I saw the censor and his black pen had been at work again. I cried, there was so little left for me to read. Thank goodness the censor had left the Christmas card alone.
Every year Sydney sends his customers a Christmas card, but not usually one covered with snow. It seems an odd choice really because it never snows in Jamaica, but, anyway, I’m going to keep it. Sydney has three shops now, business must be good.
Everyone is well and sends their love. Darling Mammie told Sydney to tell me that she that she thinks of me all the time. Dolly is getting married to a Syrian gentleman, but the family are not happy about it.
They’re all worried about me because I haven’t written to them for ages but what can I tell them, not the truth. My life has changed so much. I’m not ashamed of having a little girl, but I wish the circumstances were different. I don’t want them to know about my life now.
I couldn’t bear Mammie to see some of the work I have to do, cleaning out the dirty fireplaces every morning in the winter and cleaning silver.
Captain and Mrs Hurt are kind to me and especially Marie, I like them, but I know my place, after all I’m their servant.
******
Dear Diary
Mrs Hurt has an Irish housemaid, named Kathleen Ryan. She doesn’t like me and I don’t like her. I’d been putting away some linen in the cupboard on the first floor landing and I was in a hurry so I came down the front stairs. Servants are supposed to use the back stairs and Kathleen saw me and told me off. I told her Mrs Hurt didn’t mind me using the front stairs now and again and she called me an “uppity nigger with airs and graces”.
I was shocked I can tell you.
“I’m not a nigger, I’m not black”. I told her straight. Judith heard what Kathleen had said and told her mother-in-law.. Mrs Hurt was furious.
Kathleen said she’d never worked with niggers before.
Mrs Hurt told Kathleen that if she wanted to continue to work for her, she was never to say that word again and if Kathleen didn’t want to work with me, “you can leave now”. Kathleen was crying and I was unhappy too.
Mrs Attwood was very kind to me and made me a cup of tea and said “best thing that could happen would be for her to leave – good riddance to bad rubbish. I’ve never liked the Irish”. Mrs Attwood and I got on well together right from the beginning, but I was surprised that Mrs Hurt stood up for me.
“She likes you Carmen, she thinks you have courage and so do I”. Wasn’t that a nice thing to say?
******
Chapter twenty nine
Olga’s Diary
Dear Diary
The war in Europe had ended, finally. I was in the kitchen when the news came over the radio. Mr Churchill has ordered the next two days to be a national holiday. The village organised a big party and everyone was invited and Union Jack flags were hanging out of nearly every window and on every tree.
There was bunting strung across from one cottage to another and a tea party on the village green where everyone brought cakes, sandwiches, fizzy drinks and there was dancing and singing. Lovely cakes.
Everyone from Hendon Hall went, all the staff and the Hurts and we all had a wonderful
time. It was so nice to see everyone so happy, particularly Captain and Mrs Hurt, because their sons would be coming home.
******
Dear Diary
Sydney: A few weeks ago I got another letter from home. This one was from Sydney saying he was coming to England on a business trip and would be staying at the Reynolds Hotel in London during the last week of March. He said he wanted to see me and isn’t leaving England until he has done.
So I went to meet him on my day off yesterday. Sydney has lost weight and some hair, but, otherwise he’d barely changed, but he said I had.
I had bought a new outfit for the occasion because I wanted to look the best I could. I was wearing a new blue dress I’d recently bought and a little hat to match and a grey coat belted at the waist. I thought I looked very nice. Sydney said I did.
It was so good to hear about Mammie and the family. He told me Mammie was well, but worried about me and gave me all the news about the family. Cissie and Dyke had another two children; Dolly had married her Syrian and I felt sad I hadn’t be at her wedding; there were no changes in Pearl’s life; Ruby had a boyfriend called Jack, whom Sydney and Mammie approved of. Ruby and Jack were very serious about each other and Sydney said he thought there might be another marriage in the family. How nice.
Birdie was working at the Ward Theatre and it seemed as if she might go to America and stay with Vivie for a while. Vivie had got her divorce and married
Olga - A Daughter's Tale Page 13
