The Sisters of Battle Road

by J. M. Maloney

  The opening paragraph had set her heart racing. ‘The Germans threaten to invade Great Britain,’ it read. ‘If they do so they will be driven out by our Navy, our Army and our Air Force. Yet the ordinary men and women of the civilian population will also have their part to play.’

  It went on to urge that unless ordered to evacuate, people should ‘STAY PUT’. They were not to believe rumours or spread them, they should be suspicious of strangers and deny the enemy such things as food, transport and maps. Furthermore, they were urged to organize resistance at shops and factories, and to block roads with trees or cars in order to hinder the enemy advance if necessary.

  Just a few weeks later, when Hitler turned his attention to London, Annie thanked her lucky stars that they were no longer in Bermondsey. During that long hot summer of 1940, the Luftwaffe started bombing her home town and other major cities in what became known as the Blitz – short for the German Blitzkrieg, meaning ‘lightning war’. Annie feared for Pierce and her parents’ safety, and the knot inside her stomach tightened every time an enemy plane flew over the South of England on its way to the capital. The children too, worried about their father and would pray for him every night before they fell asleep, each absorbed in their individual entreaties.

  Sheila found it particularly hard to concentrate on lessons in the classroom whenever she heard the roar of engines in the sky, which seemed to reverberate inside the very bodies of those on the ground. She spent much of her time looking out of the window, worried sick that one of those planes was heading for London – for Abbey Street – to drop its load on their house and her father.

  On one such day at school, she was startled out of her thoughts with a jump when Miss Mobbs shouted, ‘Pay attention, Sheila Jarman!’

  At home that evening, a tearful Sheila told Annie what had happened. ‘I hate her, Mum. I hate school. She hates me. And I’m worried about Daddy.’

  ‘Daddy will be safe. They’re using the Underground to shelter during air raids,’ Annie assured her, while not feeling particularly comforted by this herself.

  As more and more German planes flew in, often blotting out the sun and casting foreboding shadows on the ground, the RAF met them in the skies in an aerial fight that became known as the Battle of Britain. Major British cities, including Birmingham, Liverpool, Glasgow, Manchester, Sheffield and Coventry, were all targeted and suffered extensive damage. To Annie, it felt as though nowhere was safe. Her job was to protect her children, but she knew that their wellbeing was out of her control.

  At night, in their beds in Battle Road, the girls heard the familiar drone of enemy aircraft heading for London, along with the intermittent clacking of anti-aircraft guns in the distance, trying to bring them down, with the aid of searchlights, before they could get any further. In the midst of this fiery hell, Annie received a letter from Pierce. As soon as she began to read, her face became ashen and a sick feeling rose from the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Abbey Street has been hit,’ wrote Pierce. ‘The house has been badly damaged. We can no longer live there. It’s just a shell.’

  He went on to say that, thankfully, Annie’s parents – along with her brother Mike – had been sheltering safely in the cellar of the nearby Royal Oak pub when it happened. Pierce, as usual, had been at his sisters’ house. Even before the war, when the family had all been living together at home, Pierce was a frequent visitor to his sisters’, much to Annie’s irritation. Whenever she couldn’t find him, she would comment, ‘He’ll be “down home” again’, meaning at his sisters’ house, his second home. This unusual expression was taken up by Annie’s daughters and even Pierce’s sisters were often themselves referred to as ‘down home’. Now Annie thanked God that Pierce had been ‘down home’ when it most mattered.

  Despite her great relief that her loved ones were safe, Annie was shocked by how easily the bomb might have resulted in their death. She was stunned that their family home, where they had brought up their children and where they had had so many memorable experiences, had been wiped out in a second.

  Although she and Pierce didn’t have many possessions, the house had contained some furniture she had put herself into debt to buy, paying off the amount in weekly instalments. There were also framed family photographs and other bits and bobs inside, which might not have seemed much to others but they were what made the house a home. Now, all gone, it brought the war close to her. It became personal in a way that it hadn’t been before. Away from the children, she allowed herself a few tears – one of the rare occasions she gave in to her emotions during those years away from home.

  The girls had most of their belongings with them in Hailsham but they too shared treasured memories of their life in Abbey Street, and were saddened at the thought of a German bomb destroying the family home. It made the future all the more uncertain.

  ‘What will we do when we go back, Mum?’ asked Sheila that evening, hands held apart in front of her, some wool looped around them, which Annie was using to knit a cardigan for young Anne.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Annie quietly, feeling vulnerable. ‘But the most important thing is that we’re all safe. Remember that in your prayers tonight and thank God for it.’

  Pierce had told her in the letter that he had moved in with his sisters for the time being. ‘They’ll love that,’ she thought to herself wryly. ‘Having their beloved brother back.’ Her own parents and brother Mike, meanwhile, were living in temporary accommodation until something more permanent could be arranged – just three more displaced Londoners with nowhere to go.

  Annie was worried about them all, and kept thinking about her father’s beloved sunflowers and elderberry tree in the yard – now destroyed. Then she had a thought that gave her considerable comfort. The departure of the Eddicotts had given both large families some much-needed ‘breathing space’, as the billeting officer had described it. Now that they had moved on, Annie could fit her parents and Mike in at Battle Road, if they were willing to move to the countryside. She was about to write back to Pierce with her idea when she realized that he would be visiting at the weekend, as usual, so she would see him before her letter could reach London.

  That Friday, Pierce’s arrival in Hailsham was greeted with extra-warm hugs from Annie and the girls, who quizzed him all about the bombing.

  Later that evening, when Annie had told him her plan, Pierce asked, ‘Are you sure you want to do that? You’ll be crowded again. And it’s pretty crowded already, especially when I’m here. And they’re old now – they’re both eighty-two. They might not want to come.’

  ‘They’re my family, Pierce. You have to take care of your own,’ she said, without any thought of his sisters. ‘Besides, I want them here. Away from London.’ She paused. ‘I want you here too. Can’t you find a job?’

  Pierce sighed. ‘Not a proper one. I’ve got a decent job in London with decent pay. Besides, the Government is telling those who have jobs to carry on as normal. We can’t all decamp to the countryside.’ He smiled at Annie. ‘As long as you and the girls are safe, I’ll be fine.’

  Despite knowing how much he missed his family, Annie suspected that he wouldn’t have wanted to leave London anyway. Hailsham was very alien to him – less so now to her and the girls – and he would miss his friends, the sights and smells of the capital, the familiarity, the pubs. He had always enjoyed a pint. She too missed London and her old friends very much but it played on her mind constantly: Would London be destroyed by German bombers? Would there be anything left to return to?

  The following Friday saw the return of Pierce, this time with Annie’s parents and Mike. For the girls, this wasn’t something that they welcomed. In their opinion, Tom and Kate lacked the warmth of most grandparents. Tom only ever wore a dark suit and a black homburg, and Kate dressed in her usual long black skirt, apron and black straw bonnet, always with a money bag tied around her waist. The darkness of their clothes seemed to reflect their manner.

  That evening, the older girls h
elped Annie cook a meal of meat stew with carrots and boiled potatoes. It was a large family affair, with everyone gathered around the kitchen table as they had a lot of news and gossip to share. Annie wanted to hear about all the families left behind in Bermondsey, whose houses were still standing, and what had become of those who were now homeless. She also grilled her parents to find out what the men who were left behind without wives and children were getting up to in their absence – gently ribbing Pierce, who laughed at her thinly veiled attempt to discover how much time he was spending in the pub. Annie’s parents assured her he was behaving himself.

  For her part, Annie told her parents about life in Hailsham and how different they would find it from the hustle and bustle of London, while the girls chipped in with encouraging tidbits about how their grandparents would love the quiet and safety of the Sussex town. But as grateful as they were to be taken in, Tom and Kate were keen to return to Bermondsey, just as soon as the local council could find them somewhere else to live.

  Annie, however, was so relieved at her mother and father’s escape from the danger of bomb-ridden London, that she had not fully reckoned on the danger posed to her elderly parents by the house’s precariously situated toilet at the top of the staircase. It was to prove more damaging to her mother than anything the Luftwaffe had ever thrown at her …

  After they had eaten their meal, Kate excused herself to go to the lavatory.

  ‘I’ll come with you, Mum,’ said Annie, concerned about the steep stairs and the dark hallway.

  ‘I don’t need anyone to take me to the toilet,’ Kate replied a little brusquely. ‘I’m not that decrepit … yet.’

  ‘No, I know, it’s just that the stairs are steep and the toilet is in an awkward position. We’re all used to it now but it’s a bit tricky.’ Annie shadowed her mother as she made her way up the stairs slowly and into the lavatory.

  ‘Give me a call, Mum, when you’re coming down,’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine. Don’t fuss,’ Kate replied. As her mother closed the lavatory door, Annie walked back down the stairs and rejoined her family in the kitchen. She perched on her chair, keeping an ear tuned for the sound of the lavatory flushing so that she could assist her mother back down the stairs. Her concentration faded as she became more and more engrossed in the conversation, though. Suddenly, there came a loud thump, followed by the unmistakeable sound of a body tumbling down the stairs and yelps of pain. The children shot out of the room to investigate, followed quickly by Annie and Pierce.

  ‘It’s Grandma!’ shouted Kath. ‘She’s fallen down the stairs!’

  ‘Mum!’ cried Annie, crouching down at Kate’s side. But her mother didn’t stir. Annie got to her feet. ‘I’ll fetch Rosie Goldsmith from next door. She’s a nurse.’ With that, she hurried out.

  While Annie was gone, Kate started to come to her senses.

  ‘Your ribs OK?’ a concerned Pierce asked, watching her pat herself around the midriff. ‘Is anything broken?’

  ‘I was checking my money belt,’ said Kate gravely. ‘It seems to be intact.’ The girls, much relieved, exchanged amused glances with each other. This was their grandmother through and through.

  Despite having fallen from the top to the bottom of the stairs, somehow Kate had suffered little more than a few bruises and a loss of dignity. Pierce helped her to her feet and into the living room where he made her comfortable in an armchair, as her husband showered her with an uncharacteristic public display of affection, placing his hand on her shoulder and asking, ‘All right, old thing?’

  Pierce went next door to find Annie and tell her that her mother wasn’t too badly hurt after all, and that neither nurse nor ambulance was required. Annie, who had feared the worst, couldn’t quite believe the remarkably good shape her mother was in.

  ‘Mum,’ she said anxiously, as she entered the living room. ‘I told you … Are you OK?’

  Kate frowned and replied crossly, ‘What a ridiculous place to put a toilet!’

  The Battle of Britain was escalating with swarms of German planes flying over the South of England, many of which passed over Hailsham and caused the girls to become increasingly worried about their father in London. Even their own safe haven began to feel ever more vulnerable as the Luftwaffe targeted British defences on the south coast. In addition, German pilots would jettison unused bombs on their way back home, to ensure their planes were light enough not to run out of fuel.

  On 17 July 1940, war came closer to Hailsham than ever before. Twelve Spitfires of 64 Squadron were patrolling Beachy Head, close to Eastbourne, when they were met by German Messerschmitt 109s. One of the Spitfires was hit and, in the early afternoon, the plane crashed on open ground at Hempstead Lane, just over a mile from Battle Road. The young pilot, Donald Taylor, was admitted to Eastbourne Hospital with wounds including fragments of metal embedded in his head, torso, right arm and right leg. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t life threatening and he returned to flying a couple of months later in September.

  News of the plane crash spread through the schoolrooms and over the garden fences in no time. The majority of the children chatted excitedly about the pilot’s lucky escape, marvelling at the courage of the RAF fighters.

  ‘He must be so brave,’ said one of the boys in Kath’s class. ‘When I’m older I want to be a pilot, just like him.’

  To help take her mind off the war, Joan, who had always been a voracious reader, found solace in the escapism that novels brought. Back home in Bermondsey, she used to take four or five books at a time out of the large and comprehensive library in Spa Road, and she was delighted to find that Hailsham also had a library, albeit a smaller one, where she could continue this practice.

  She had thoroughly enjoyed Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, which told the story of sisters Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March, growing up with their mother during the American Civil War while their father was away with the Union troops, acting as chaplain. The March sisters might have been living through a war in the same way as the Jarman girls were but Joan thought the American Civil War seemed a much more romantic backdrop than Hitler and his scary Nazi soldiers.

  Joan went on to devour the sequels Good Wives, Little Men and Jo’s Boys. After that she was charmed, like so many other children around the world, by the adventures of eleven-year-old orphan Anne Shirley of Nova Scotia in Anne of Green Gables. There were even more sequels to this novel than Little Women and Joan had delightful times reading them all, anywhere she could find a small place in the house offering the relative peace to do so. Away from her other sisters for a while, she immersed herself in a different world. Whenever Annie couldn’t find Joan, she knew that she would eventually track her down to the quietest corner of the house where she would discover her with her nose in a book.

  Although Joan was never going to be top of the class at school, she did push herself and reading was her first love. She enjoyed English immensely, and when it came to compositions she would write avidly, page after page, not quite knowing when to stop. She was also good at Art and other practical lessons, such as the housewifery class they had every week.

  Just as Mary had done in London, all the sisters learnt how to do housework at school – laundering, ironing and even scrubbing floors. The Jarman girls were quite used to this type of thing already because Annie had always given them chores to do around the house. Whenever Joan had to take in items to work on in class – a sheet, pillowcase or towel to wash, dry and iron – Annie was delighted, considering it one less chore she had to worry about at home.

  At school in Bermondsey, Joan had also learnt needlework but the dressmaking class at Hailsham Senior Mixed School – like all the lessons there – was more advanced than she had been used to.

  ‘They have a sewing machine, Mum,’ she told Annie.

  ‘That’s very grand,’ Annie replied. ‘I could do with one of those at home.’

  While the local Hailsham pupils had become used to working on the machine, it was all new to Joan. At
home, the Jarman girls sewed by hand under the tutelage of Annie and they enjoyed doing it. They could ask Annie how to do this or that and she would patiently show them, but at school Joan felt too embarrassed to keep asking her teacher questions in front of the other pupils. She was so far behind and there was yet another humiliating moment for her during a lesson, when the teacher told the class that they could make something of their own choosing.

  Joan decided that she would like to make a dress for her sister Anne, who was now one year old, but things went wrong from the start. They had to cut out the material as their teacher walked around the classroom, watching to see how they were getting on. Pleased with what she had done, Joan laid down two pieces of cut material which would form the basis of the dress. One of the other girls had noticed her mistake, though, and couldn’t wait to bring it to the teacher’s attention.

  ‘Miss! Miss!’ she called out. ‘She’s cut two left sides!’

  Once more Joan felt her face flushing. The teacher told Joan calmly to have another go but she was upset for the rest of the day at how some of her classmates couldn’t wait to laugh at her.

  Back at home that evening, Mary sensed that Joan, who was being unusually quiet, was unhappy.

  ‘Is something the matter, Joan?’ she asked, when they were both in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just school. You’re lucky you don’t have to go any more.’

  ‘Going to work isn’t a barrel of fun either,’ Mary pointed out.

  ‘I didn’t mind school back home.’

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  Well, perhaps she hadn’t always loved school. But this was different.

  ‘Whenever I do something wrong the other kids laugh at me,’ said Joan after a while. ‘Like today, when I was making a dress for Anne and cut out two left sides.’