The Sisters of Battle Road

by J. M. Maloney

  A delighted Mary, who had no idea how her mother had afforded it, went to Portsmouth excitedly, with twenty other girls and two teachers, to board the boat to the Isle of Wight. Had she known, Annie might have saved herself the embarrassment of having to ask her priest for money because, once there, Mary couldn’t wait to come home! The party were staying at a convent in Shanklin and Mary enjoyed herself well enough for the first few days, but then unfortunately became terribly homesick and couldn’t stop crying. All the other girls were having so much fun they couldn’t understand why Mary was so upset.

  ‘I just want to go home,’ she kept saying.

  There would be no christening for Christopher in Dockhead, then, but it was playing on Pierce’s mind that his grandson still hadn’t received the first sacrament.

  ‘When are you going to get that baby christened?’ he asked Mary, and not for the first time.

  Despite the disruption to their lives, Pierce still liked to be religious-minded when it came to his daughters’ upbringing, and continued to make sure they were all up in time for Sunday morning mass each week, just as Annie had done, despite his own reluctance to set foot inside the church.

  ‘I’m waiting for Frank,’ Mary replied. ‘He may be getting leave soon.’

  ‘Well, you can’t wait for ever,’ said Pierce, privately wondering whether she would ever see Frank again.

  ‘Things seem to be going well,’ said a resilient Mary. ‘Who knows? It might soon be over.’

  Eventually, feeling she could wait no longer for Frank’s return, Mary went ahead with the christening. However, just two weeks later Frank did return to Hailsham on leave. There was a joyful reunion with Mary and he was finally able to meet two-month-old baby Christopher, who, in the midst of war, he had worried he might never see.

  Frank never told Mary much about his experiences in the heat of the battle. Like many soldiers, he felt that the horrors of war couldn’t be described adequately to those who hadn’t experienced them, and so it was best to avoid such details. Now, holding Chris in his arms and walking as a family in the rec, fighting in France seemed unreal. He was due to return there in a week’s time, but by then everyone understood that the end of the war was very much in sight. Before he departed, he and Mary discussed their future.

  ‘You’d like Canada,’ Frank said to his wife. ‘The space and the trees, the landscape … It’ll take your breath away.’

  Mary, whose only trip off the mainland had been that ill-fated school journey by ferry to the Isle of Wight, was fascinated and keen to experience Canada but didn’t want to live there permanently because she knew she would miss her family. She could hardly contemplate being without her sisters and Pierce, but at the same time she had so much to look forward to now that she had a family of her own.

  ‘I’d like to see it, Frank,’ she said. ‘But I wouldn’t want to live there for ever.’

  ‘It’s entirely up to you,’ he replied. ‘Come out and we’ll live with my parents in Calgary, and if you don’t like it, then we’ll come back and live in England. How’s that sound?’

  Mary smiled. ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ he confirmed.

  Shortly after Frank returned to France, those words, ‘it might soon be over’, said by so many throughout the various phases of the war, finally became an accurate assessment. In the final push, the Western Allies raced the Russians to be the first into Berlin. The Russians won, entering the German capital on 21 April 1945. Hitler committed suicide nine days later in his bunker and finally, after almost five and a half years of war, Germany made an unconditional surrender on 7 May 1945. It was all over.

  The news that the war had ended in Europe was relayed to the British people over the wireless later that day. The nation was informed that the following day would be officially known as Victory in Europe (VE) Day and would be a national holiday. As news came through that German forces had surrendered in Italy and then Holland, Denmark and northwest Germany, many Brits had already started celebrating, knowing already, in the days leading up to the announcement, that the war was ending.

  On VE Day, the Jarman family, in common with many others across the nation, were huddled around the wireless at 3 p.m. to listen to Churchill’s speech.

  We may allow ourselves a brief period of rejoicing; but let us not forget for a moment the toil and efforts that lie ahead. Japan, with all her treachery and greed, remains unsubdued. The injury she has inflicted on Great Britain, the United States, and other countries, and her detestable cruelties, call for justice and retribution. We must now devote all our strength and resources to the completion of our task, both at home and abroad. Advance, Britannia! Long live the cause of freedom! God save the King!

  In 18 Battle Road, the girls cheered and danced. Nobody more so than Sheila. It would mean they could go home to Bermondsey at long last. However, a moment later she remembered that they no longer had a home to go to.

  Later on, the prime minister appeared on the balcony of the Ministry of Health building in central London and gave an impromptu speech to the cheering crowds below, declaring, ‘This is your victory.’

  People seemed almost light-headed with disbelief that the war had finally ended, and there was much singing, dancing and drinking in the streets, which were adorned with Union Jack flags and bunting. King George VI and the Queen appeared eight times on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, while, it was later revealed, the two princesses, Margaret and Elizabeth, slipped out of Buckingham Palace to mingle anonymously with the crowds, enjoying the carnival-like atmosphere up close.

  The Jarman girls each began to turn their thoughts to returning to a bomb-ravished London, wondering just what the future held for them.

  CHAPTER 10

  Farewell, Hailsham

  Photograph of Pierce on his ID card for the London Electricity Board.

  ‘THAT’S IT THEN, girls,’ said Pierce. ‘We’re going home.’

  A few days after VE Day, he gathered the girls in the kitchen to deliver the news. The Government wouldn’t get round to approving the return of evacuees officially until the following month but a great many children were reunited with their families earlier than that. After all, thought the parents, what was the point in waiting now that the war was over?

  Pierce’s comment was met by silence as each girl contemplated just what ‘going home’ actually meant. Kath and Pat had spent their formative years in Hailsham, and couldn’t remember much else. Their intrepid journey into the unknown over five years ago, against a backdrop of global uncertainty about the future, now seemed like the dim and distant past to girls of such tender years. For all of them, Heywood, 18 Battle Road – the address automatically ringing in their ears to the tune of Sheila’s whimsical ditty – now seemed more like home to them than anywhere else.

  The thought surprised them, even Joan, who had grown into her role as ‘mother’. She was used to it now – the shops, the friends, the kitchen, the routine. Motherhood – the protective nature of it – had come too early into her life, but it was a role that she had accepted and filled remarkably well. What would it mean in Bermondsey? And where would they live? She had also liked having her part-time job at Greens and wondered if she would find similar hours of employment in London.

  There was uncertainty for Mary, too. Frank had returned to the army and would be going home to Canada eventually. The thought of joining him there with baby Chris was both exciting and terrifying in equal measure.

  To Anne, who had just turned six, returning to London sounded like another adventure. She had heard many stories about Bermondsey. Now, she would be able to experience it for herself. As long as she had her family around her she was happy.

  Only Sheila, of all the sisters, felt her spirits lift. Her mother might no longer be with them but moving back to Bermondsey and, more specifically, Dockhead, was the nearest she could get to a return to normality; how things were before this unwelcome and dramatic chapter in their lives had taken place.


  ‘Well?’ asked Pierce. ‘All happy? It’s what we’ve been waiting for.’

  ‘Where are we going to live?’ asked Joan.

  ‘We’ll live with my sisters for a while, until we get sorted,’ he said, with a hopeful little smile.

  The news was not well received by any of the sisters. Even Sheila had a sudden alarming image of them all squeezing into their aunts’ double bed!

  ‘How will we be sorted?’ Joan asked, ever the practical one.

  Pierce was not entirely sure but used a familiar line of Annie’s. ‘I’ll have a word with the council,’ he replied.

  Suitcases and bags were packed with clothes and the few other possessions they had acquired over the years, but they had been instructed to leave behind all of the items that been donated to them. Aunt Rose, who had come down from Bermondsey to accompany the girls back to London, had other ideas.

  ‘They won’t want all this back,’ she said, piling cutlery, crockery, and pots and pans into bags. Besides, it was given to us.’

  Sheila looked at her dubiously but said nothing.

  Annie’s ploy of telling the kindly Mrs Hassen that they were short of blankets had finally paid off as they now added the extra ones to the things to be taken home. Sheila was in two minds, but even she had to admit that they probably deserved an extra item or two, after all they’d been through.

  Lifting Annie’s beloved clock from the mantelpiece, Pierce felt misty-eyed as he secured the pendulum to stop its movement – its incessant and familiar ticking silenced at a stroke. Then, he carefully wrapped it in some clothing and nestled it inside his suitcase.

  ‘Just listen to that chime, Pierce. Sounds very regal, doesn’t it? I’m sure it will last for years and years.’ Her words came echoing into the room.

  Extraordinary to think that she had lived there with them, the beating heart of the family, but was gone for ever. He closed the case quickly and walked outside to see if the girls were ready to go.

  With everyone carrying something, they trooped out of Heywood, 18 Battle Road and closed the side door for the final time. They never did get to use the front door. They were leaving behind a house that had become a home – one full of dramatic and varied memories – in which they had experienced displacement, death, overwhelming grief, romance, laughter, marriage and new life. There was little time to reminisce on such things, though, because as they were walking along the High Street to the train station, Rose caught sight of Mrs Hassen behind them in the distance, coming their way. Perhaps, Rose thought, she had checked the house and found many of the items missing. The formidable Rose felt unusually nervous.

  ‘Quick! Get a move on!’ she urged. ‘Mrs Hassen’s coming. Don’t stop!’

  At the station, they spent a fretful few minutes wondering if Mrs Hassen would arrive before their train did. Just as the train pulled in, there she appeared along the platform.

  ‘Hello! Just a minute!’ she called out, waving in their direction.

  Suspecting that she knew what they were up to – and they certainly had their hands full, that much was clear – Rose called back, ‘We’ve no time! We’ll miss the train!’

  She ushered everyone aboard quickly and in her haste Joan, who was carrying a pilfered broom, dropped it in the gap between the train and platform.

  ‘Leave it, Joan!’ Rose hissed. ‘Just get on.’

  Mrs Hassen looked on, uncertain what to do as they sat inside the carriage, staring straight ahead, determined not to look at her – except surreptitiously out of the corner of their eyes! To their relief, the station master blew his whistle and the train shuddered into motion. The large metal wheels turned and the train pulled away slowly, leaving a cloud of steam in its wake, which slowly dissipated until there was no trace at all.

  Alighting at London Bridge station with various other evacuees, there was a heightened sense of excitement at the familiar hustle and bustle of London. It all came flooding back to the girls. As they walked down the steps into Tooley Street, however, it was immediately evident that Bermondsey had taken a battering over the past several years. Many of the buildings had been damaged by bombs and some had been reduced to nothing more than piles of rubble.

  ‘It looks so drab compared to the countryside, doesn’t it?’ said Mary, taking in the scene around her.

  ‘Smelly, too,’ commented Kath, turning her nose up at the mixture of aromas, from fresh meat and vegetables, to brick dust and goodness knows what else emanating from markets, factories and houses. Already, she was missing the fresh country smells of Hailsham: the rec, the fields and woodland nature trails. Bermondsey no longer seemed like home.

  At their aunts’ house in Stanworth Street they unpacked their belongings as Nell and Mary looked approvingly at the crockery, cutlery and blankets.

  ‘We had a lovely broom, too,’ Rose told her sisters, glancing crossly at Joan. ‘But Joan dropped it on the railway track.’

  ‘Couldn’t someone get it for you?’ asked Nell.

  ‘We were in a bit of a rush,’ Mary interjected.

  ‘That busybody Mrs Hassen,’ added Rose. ‘Chasing after us like that. Checking up on us. It’s none of her business.’

  ‘She was very kind to us, Aunt,’ said Joan, feeling sorry that Mrs Hassen was being maligned despite all she had done to help the family during their stay.

  Rose shook her head and pursed her lips. ‘Nosy, that’s what she was. Now then. Let’s get things put away. Everyone needs to help out.’

  Later, the aunts treated the girls to some coconut cake, with the obligatory slice of bread and butter to aid digestion. When it was time for the afternoon nap, Joan suggested that she and her sisters go for a walk instead, so that the aunts could have some peace and quiet from having too many people in the house. To the girls’ relief the aunts agreed and the Jarman sisters trooped along familiar yet somehow unfamiliar streets – a consequence of time clouding memory and Luftwaffe bombs having altered the local landscape.

  Abbey Street had been particularly badly hit, with many buildings now razed to the ground. They stopped opposite their own home to take in the sorry sight of the badly damaged house. The splendid Virginia creeper that had covered the front and made it stand out against neighbouring houses, adding colour and life, much to Annie’s pleasure; the sunflowers in the back yard that their granddad had grown, and the elderberry tree that was the source of Mrs Bradley’s home-made wine; the half-moon outside the door that Annie would scrub on the paving stone … All gone. Their house-proud mother’s constant cleaning inside, and their own regular household chores, her prized three-piece suite. What would she have thought if she could see how it had ended up?

  Later that evening, back at their aunts’ house, the girls were reunited with their father after he had finished work and, over dinner, they discussed their future.

  ‘The council has been looking at a few possible places for us to live,’ said Pierce.

  ‘Will it be far from here, Daddy?’ asked Anne. Pierce gave her a little smile.

  ‘No, not far,’ he replied. ‘We’re back now.’

  They were all keen to get settled in their own house as quickly as possible. It was too much of a squeeze living with the aunts. Pierce had his own little bedroom and the aunts their double bed. There was a third bedroom for Mary and baby Chris but the rest of the girls had an ad hoc sleeping arrangement utilizing sofas, armchairs and cushions in the living room. Each of them declined the offer of squeezing into the aunts’ bed! It was evident to everyone that the quicker the council found them a home, the better.

  Kath and Pat soon went back to school at St Joseph’s where they were reunited with old friends, many of whom had also been evacuated for the duration of war, but there were others who had returned home a few years earlier. The sisters settled in to the new rhythms of school life easily enough, but without their realizing it, living in Hailsham had softened their cockney accents, so much so that several of the other children laughed at them and said they talked ‘posh
’.

  Kath was also taken aback in class one day, when she was writing an English composition and wrote about ‘my friend’ in her story. The girl sitting next to her happened to see what she had written and frowned at her.

  ‘You don’t say “my friend”,’ she declared, appalled at such language. ‘You say “my mate”.’

  Kath felt uncomfortable about this. School life meant fitting in with your peers. They had managed to do it at Hailsham. Well, mostly. Kath never imagined that she would have to try to modify her behaviour to fit in once more – at her old school. Had she really changed that much? She was surprised to learn that she had.

  At school in Hailsham, they had become accustomed to returning to their seat politely if they happened to be standing when anyone, such as another teacher or a priest, walked into the room. It was a simple sign of respect. When Kath did that in St Joseph’s, as another nun entered the room, she was again corrected by her classmate.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ she was asked.

  ‘You have to,’ Kath replied.

  ‘No, you don’t! You just carry on with what you’re doing.’

  Once more, Kath frowned. She didn’t like being different or being told she was posh. It was an insult. She had to mend her ways.

  Joan carried on looking after Anne and helping with the cooking, shopping and cleaning at the aunts’ house, as the family eagerly awaited a house of their own. She was missing her independence working at Greens. It hadn’t been a dream job but it had got her out of the house and was a break from the domestic drudgery. Life just became busy without it – a daily bustle of things to do.

  In an effort to enjoy some leisure time, Joan persuaded Sheila to join the local social club with her at the church hall. Sheila, who was still shy and felt as if she was almost starting again in Bermondsey, was apprehensive but agreed. However, on their way there on the first evening, Sheila felt anxious all of a sudden.