The Sisters of Battle Road

by J. M. Maloney

  Occasionally, at midweek dances, Joan would not return before Mary went out and so Sheila, now thirteen, would take on the parenting role until Joan eventually returned. The enveloping darkness, intensified by the blackout, made Sheila feel vulnerable and scared, and the responsibility of being in charge of Kath, Pat and Anne weighed heavily on her young shoulders. She would lie awake in bed, jumping at every little sound she heard – real or imaginary – and couldn’t go to sleep until she heard Joan return.

  While her older sisters were becoming increasingly interested in the opposite sex, Sheila was feeling quite the opposite. She was so disgusted by the thought of intimacy with men that one weekend, whilst Pierce was oiling the hinges of a squeaky door, Sheila informed him that she was going to be a nun.

  Pierce took it in his stride. ‘If that’s what you want to do,’ he replied, with only the briefest of glances in her direction.

  ‘It is, Daddy,’ she insisted. ‘I think it’s my vocation.’ With that, she walked off, leaving behind a smiling Pierce.

  Sheila hated Hailsham more than ever following Annie’s death. Although Joan was coping admirably with bringing up her younger sisters, she could never replace their mum, and Sheila keenly missed the comfort of knowing that Annie was there to listen, advise and care for her whenever she needed it. Things improved, however, when Mrs Buckley and her three-year-old son, Brian, moved in to one of the upstairs bedrooms at 18 Battle Road in April 1943, after her own house in Eastbourne was hit by a bomb.

  When the billeting officer approached Pierce about her moving in, he was comforted by the idea that there would be a mother present in the house whilst he was back in London during the week. Despite the extra squeeze, the girls too liked having her there, and they all got on well. Indeed, it was to Rosie Buckley that the girls ran when Woppamoose made an unexpected call to the house, looking for Frank.

  Apart from Mary, who had been on a cinema date with him, the other girls were still frightened of the hulking soldier. When Sheila saw him lumbering down their path she sounded the alarm.

  ‘It’s Woppamoose!’ she shouted. ‘Hide!’

  Mary raised her eyebrows while her sisters darted around the house in all directions, like panicked mice, as she went to open the door.

  She found him on the doorstep, blocking out the light. ‘Is Frank in?’ he asked in his deep voice.

  ‘No,’ said Mary.

  Woppamoose looked at her for a few moments. ‘He said he’d be here.’

  ‘Well, he is due about now,’ said Mary, ‘but he’s not here yet.’

  Woppamoose raised his hand to show a bottle of beer he was holding. ‘Mind if I come in and take the top off this beer?’

  Mary didn’t like to refuse him so she stepped aside for him to enter, casting a quick glance down the path to see if any neighbours or passers-by were watching. In the kitchen, she handed him a bottle opener. He prised the top off his beer and took a swig. Mary looked at him, wondering if he was going to leave now, but he showed no sign of being on his way.

  ‘Well, I’d better be getting on with the housework,’ she said, hoping he would take the hint, but Woppamoose wasn’t the type of man who dealt with hints.

  ‘Mind if I wait for Frank?’ he asked.

  Mary just wanted him to leave but she led him into the front room and told him he could wait in the armchair. He slumped down into the soft cushions, stretched his long legs and took another swig of beer. Mary, having heard her sisters running upstairs, went up to find them.

  She found them in a state of high anxiety, having explained to an amused Rosie Buckley why they were hiding.

  ‘Is he still here? When’s he going?’ they whispered.

  Mary did her best to pacify them – it seemed Woppamoose was harmless enough, after all – but she then noticed that one of her sisters was missing.

  ‘Where’s Joan?’ she asked, only to be met with blank faces.

  Downstairs in the living room, Joan had decided that the Morrison shelter, with the tablecloth draped over it, would be an ideal hiding place. However, she regretted her decision when she heard Mary walk in the room with Woppamoose.

  As she peered out from under the hem of the tablecloth, she could see his big feet stretched out in front of him. She was terrified of making a noise – of even breathing too loudly – in case he lifted the cloth and found her there. For a moment, she thought of crawling out and revealing herself, but what explanation could she give? Instead, she decided that she would just have to wait until he left.

  Time passed slowly, though. Five minutes, ten, fifteen … and Joan, too frightened to move an inch, felt her limbs aching and her heart beating so loudly that she feared Woppamoose could hear it from his chair.

  Meanwhile, upstairs, Mary and Rosie were hatching a plan. Mary would go back downstairs and, after a few minutes, Rosie would call down that tea was ready. They hoped that Woppamoose would then take this as a sign to leave – it would be only polite to do so – but once again they had underestimated the big man’s imperviousness to subtlety. When the call came he remained firmly seated in the armchair. Mary reiterated that it was teatime but he simply looked at her with a languid expression and asked, ‘Mind if I just finish this beer?’

  Mary nodded in resignation and made her way back upstairs, where she stood with her sisters, listening for any sound of his departure.

  ‘Is he going?’ Kath whispered.

  ‘He’s just finishing his beer,’ Mary replied. ‘You shouldn’t have all run off. He’s just Frank’s friend.’

  ‘He’s scary,’ said Pat.

  ‘He’s all right when you get to know him.’

  Pat looked unconvinced. ‘I don’t think I want to,’ she said eventually.

  After several more minutes huddled together, listening at the top of the stairs, they heard a stirring as Woppamoose got up and made his way out slowly, much to their relief. As they heard the front door close behind him, the girls ran downstairs and were startled when a white-faced Joan crawled out of the shelter.

  ‘I thought he’d never leave,’ she muttered and her sisters fell about laughing.

  Frank was due some leave from the army and planned to visit his sister, Mary, her husband Mel and their adopted two-year-old daughter, Dolores, in the village of Oakamoor in Staffordshire. He asked Mary to go with him and, as usual, Mary said she would have to ask her father. She approached Pierce the following weekend.

  Pierce had met Frank a few times by now and liked his easygoing way and the respect he showed to Mary. That didn’t mean he wanted his eldest daughter ‘running off with him’, though.

  ‘I’m not running off,’ Mary protested. ‘You’ve met Frank and you like him.’

  ‘I barely know him,’ said Pierce.

  ‘You said you liked him.’

  This was true but Pierce dug his heels in. ‘You’re not going,’ he said. ‘And that’s that.’

  But Mary, now eighteen, was no longer quite so ready to accept her father’s conclusions.

  ‘It would be a nice break for me,’ she persisted.

  ‘I don’t know why you’d even want to go to Oaka-whatever,’ said Pierce. ‘What about your work?’

  ‘I’m due some time off.’

  ‘And your sisters? They need you.’

  ‘They’ve got Joan. It’ll only be for a few days.’

  Pierce contemplated the matter. ‘Anyhow,’ he said eventually. ‘How do we know he even has a sister?’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘He’s not going to make that up!’

  ‘Isn’t he? He might say anything just to get you away with him for a few days.’

  Mary knew she wasn’t getting anywhere, so instead, changed tactics and tried to make him feel guilty.

  ‘OK, I’ll tell him you said no,’ she replied, and walked off.

  She didn’t get far before Pierce called her back. ‘Get him to ask his sister to write to me,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone.

  ‘Why?’ asked a puzz
led Mary.

  ‘So that I know she exists!’ said Pierce.

  Frank thought it odd that Pierce wanted his sister to write but he got her to do so anyway. In the letter, she said that she would make sure that Mary would be well looked after, if he allowed her to visit. Pierce was comforted but not enough to give his immediate permission.

  Frank would visit his sister with or without Mary but, as the day drew near, Pierce continued to prevaricate. Eventually, he decided that he would accompany Mary and Frank on the first part of the journey, to London, at the weekend and they could stay overnight at Pierce’s sisters’ house, where he was currently living. There, he would talk to Frank about things and make his decision after that. Mary would either travel onwards with Frank to Oakamoor the following morning or return alone to Hailsham. It was hardly ideal but Mary was fairly confident that Frank would be able to turn on the charm enough for Pierce to give his permission.

  After travelling up to London by train in May 1943, Mary and Frank spent the evening with her father and her aunts and, although it all seemed to go well, Pierce didn’t bring up the subject of the trip at all. Then, when they retired for the night, Mary was amused to find that, due to a shortage of beds, Frank would be sharing with her father! Frank was less amused but appreciated that it provided an unusual opportunity for them to bond with one another.

  That night, as the two men lay side by side in bed, with their backs to each other – and as close to the edges of the bed as they could possibly get – they did have a conversation about Mary. With both of them feeling rather awkward in the circumstances, it didn’t last long.

  The next morning, Mary was delighted when Pierce said that she could go. She hugged her father warmly, thanking him over and over. Later, she asked Frank what they had said to each other that night in bed.

  ‘Not much,’ said Frank. ‘I started talking to him about my sister and the next moment I heard him snoring!’

  Mary and Frank travelled up from London to Stoke-on-Trent and then on to Oakamoor and family. It felt exciting to Mary to have this newfound independence and experience of spending quality time with her first proper boyfriend, away from the watchful eye of Pierce and the people of Hailsham. She felt properly grown up.

  Frank’s sister and her husband were welcoming hosts and the week’s stay with them was a refreshing break. They spent much of their time going for walks in the hazy spring sunshine, just the two of them, getting to know each other better day by day and becoming closer.

  Mary was confused, however, when, on one of their long walks, Frank made a strange request.

  ‘Mary, would you mind if I gave you a ring to wear?’ he asked. Mary’s mind started to race and she felt her heart pumping. She stopped to look at him, wondering just what was coming next.

  ‘This one,’ he said, pulling a signet ring from his little finger. Mary was puzzled. ‘If you could wear it on your wedding finger …’ he went on.

  ‘My wedding finger? What are you saying, Frank?’

  Frank looked uncharacteristically sheepish. ‘There’s this girl, you see …’ he began.

  ‘What girl?’ Mary snapped.

  ‘A girl that I sometimes see when I visit my sister.’

  Mary was not liking this.

  ‘It’s nothing serious. Just a friend, really. We just meet up and …’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Just, you know, go to the cinema. Just friends, that’s all,’ Frank explained.

  ‘So why do you want me to wear your ring?’ Mary’s voice was frosty.

  ‘My sister told this girl that I was visiting again but that I was bringing you.’

  ‘So?’ Mary was determined not to make this easy for Frank.

  ‘Well, she, er … added that we were engaged.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ asked Mary, genuinely perplexed.

  Frank explained that now he was seeing her, he no longer wanted to hang out with the other girl, and that his sister had taken it upon herself to tell the girl that Frank now had a fiancée.

  Mary was finding it difficult to take it all in. ‘But she’s just a friend?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah but … probably a little keen,’ he said with an awkward smile.

  Despite finding it all rather odd, Mary agreed to wear the ring in case they bumped into her. They never did. The whole episode made Mary realize that perhaps Frank wasn’t entirely what he appeared to be – but the idea that there might be another girl interested in him only made her all the more keen.

  Their stay in Oakamoor was all too brief for Mary’s liking. She hadn’t had any kind of holiday for years, and just as she was starting to really unwind, it was time to return home.

  She soon forgot she was still wearing Frank’s ring but when she took it off to give it back to him ahead of returning to London, he asked if she would keep it on. When she asked why, Frank replied that he liked the feeling of them being engaged, adding, ‘I’ll get you a proper engagement ring when I can.’

  It took a moment for this rather casual comment to sink in. When it did, Mary realized that this was Frank’s version of a marriage proposal. It was hardly Prince Charming and Cinderella, or indeed anything like she had seen in the romantic Hollywood films but, nevertheless, she couldn’t help but smile.

  A tingle of excitement ran through her body. When she had agreed to wear Frank’s old signet ring, she’d had no idea that it would ruin any dreams she might have harboured about one day having a romantic, down-on-one-knee style, traditional marriage proposal. But this was good enough for her. More than good enough. She was delighted.

  ‘I’ll have to ask my dad,’ she said.

  It was Frank’s turn to smile. ‘He’ll be fine. We’ve shared a bed.’

  Mary suspected that Pierce would not be caught up in the romance of it all, though, and she was nervous telling him about it when they had returned home. Her fears were well founded.

  ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘You’re only eighteen. Wait until you’re twenty-one.’

  ‘It just means we’re engaged, that’s all,’ said Mary. ‘I’m not about to leave home.’

  Pierce felt himself shudder at the thought. ‘He could be off with the army at any moment. He lives in Canada, Mary. Would you want to live there?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Mary. ‘It’s just a sign of commitment.’

  ‘A commitment unlikely to last,’ said Pierce. ‘He’s a soldier and a Canadian.’

  The lively conversation continued in this vein for a while longer before Mary gave up. She kept the ring on, though, and bided her time with Pierce, comforted by the fact that the band symbolized that she and Frank were engaged whether her father liked it or not.

  Nine-year-old Pat was to have a fortuitous encounter with a solider – an American one – when she was walking along the High Street with two of her friends. Ahead of them were two American soldiers with their English girlfriends. Such sights were frowned upon occasionally by men not on the war front. A common complaint amongst British men at the time about the ‘Yanks’ was that they were ‘overpaid, oversexed and over ’ere’. Pat had good reason on this occasion to be pleased about them being overpaid because as one of the soldiers reached into his pocket to take out his handkerchief, several coins – pennies, as well as sixpences – fell out and rolled away on the pavement.

  To the girls’ astonishment, the soldier just looked down at what had happened, shrugged and carried on walking.

  ‘Come on!’ said Pat, wide-eyed with excitement. ‘He doesn’t want it!’ She led the way in bending down and scooping up the money quickly. The friends shared out their windfall, sixpence each. Sweets were rationed but children, as well as adults, had learnt to find alternatives. Cough drops, Fisherman’s Friends and Zubes would not have been their usual choice of delight but they were classified as medicinal and therefore not rationed, and were easily available at the chemist. So off they set to satisfy their sugar craving.

  The aunts continued to visit the girls regular
ly and would rebuke them sharply if they thought that their housekeeping didn’t meet their own standards. The girls would clean and tidy the house furiously before their aunts arrived, polishing the woodwork, sweeping the floors and dusting from top to bottom. Their aunts would walk from room to room, checking for dust and dirt like sergeant majors inspecting the barracks of the rank and file. It was rarely good enough, despite the girls’ best efforts.

  Notwithstanding the often cold behaviour towards the girls by their aunts, Sheila, now thirteen, was thrilled when Pierce finally agreed to let her stay with his sisters in London one weekend in the summer of 1943. He had been reticent because of the risk of bombing but Sheila had continued to ask him over the years and, realizing now just how homesick she was, he relented finally. What’s more, Mary had recently made a blue dress for her, which Sheila loved and felt very grown up in when she tried it on, so she decided to pack it for her stay in London, imagining how her aunts would approve of it and how she might do them proud.

  She was going to travel alone on the train to London and Mary had given her 2 shillings and sixpence for her fare and any additional expenses. Pierce, who was down for the weekend as usual, accompanied her to the station early on Saturday morning, and Sheila felt a rush of exhilaration when she boarded the train, smiling and waving goodbye to her father from the carriage window.

  Her excitement about her London adventure increased as the journey progressed, and she thought about experiencing the familiar sights and smells again. Once the train had shuddered to a laborious halt at London Bridge station, amidst billowing steam, she stepped sprightly onto the platform, bag in hand.

  None of the aunts had planned to meet her at the station, but Sheila wasn’t worried. She made her way cheerfully and confidently down the steps from the station but instead of turning right along Tooley Street, she turned left by mistake and found herself on Borough High Street. It was a while before she realized that she was going the wrong way and, as her steps faltered, she began to fret. Disorientated, she eventually asked a woman if she could tell her the way to Stanworth Street and the woman helpfully gave her directions. Back on track, she smiled to herself once more as she began to recognize familiar buildings.