Olga - A Daughter's Tale

by Marie-Therese Browne (Marie Campbell)

  Sydney said tonight he was sure Olga was safe; he says if there was bad news the hospital would have informed us and, of course, he is right. That is some comfort. I pray to the Virgin Mary every night to keep my daughter safe and well.

  ******

  Chapter twenty five

  Olga’s Diary

  Dear Diary

  What did I do wrong: The water in my bath was so hot the bathroom was thick with steam, burning my skin and I could barely see the bath taps. But I didn’t want to cool it down, I wanted it as hot as I could bear it.

  Earlier Moores had said she’d meet me at the pub, but wasn’t there when I arrived. So, I got my ginger beer from the barman and sat down. The pub was busy and noisy and though I’d been there a few times before, this was the first time on my own.

  From where I was sitting I saw John in the other bar with a group of friends. His name was John Edward, Captain John Edward, and he’s a doctor in the army based just outside London. Before the war he was a senior doctor at St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington. Very popular, everyone knows him and he has a reputation for being a bit of a ladies man. I’d seen him on a few occasions - in the pub and sometimes in the hospital. Moores would often tease me about him saying I had a crush on him and, it was true, I did like him a lot, but he’d never even notice me.

  I’d been sitting there for half an hour and Moores still hadn’t turned up so I decided to get one more drink. I decided I’d go back to the Nurses’ Home if she hadn’t arrived by the time I’d finished it. I felt a twinge of disappointment when I went up to buy my ginger beer because I couldn’t see John in the other bar.

  I returned to my seat and the next thing I knew he was sitting opposite me. He smiled at me but I was overcome with shyness.

  “Olga, isn’t it?” he said loudly so I could hear above the noise. Goodness, I thought, he knows my name.

  “Yes, it is”.

  I was getting a really good look at him now. I’d never seen anyone so handsome, except, of course, film stars, but most of them were dark haired. John was slim and fair-haired and he had such a lovely smile. By now I was hoping Moores wasn’t coming because I wanted John all to myself. He told me he had three days leave before he had to report back to the army. I could see some of the other girls in the bar looking, a bit jealous I thought, at us and I felt so proud that he seemed interested in me.

  My initial shyness was gone and I was surprised by how easy he was to talk to. I told him where I came from and all about my family and he talked about his life in the army. We talked like two people who had been friends for ages. He offered to buy me another ginger beer and while he was at the bar I went to the ladies toilet.

  As I came out he was standing in the passage waiting for me and took hold of my hand.

  “Come with me, Olga, I want to show you something.”

  We went down the passage, in the opposite direction of the bar and John opened a door and we were in a small dirty yard where there were lots of beer barrels and crates of beer. He closed the door and I wondered what we were doing here.

  Then he pushed me against the wall of the pub and started kissing me very roughly. With his knee he forced my legs apart and I was frightened because I knew then that something bad was going to happen to me.

  I tried to push him away from me but the weight of his body had me pressed against the wall.

  “Stop, please stop, you’re hurting me” I pleaded still trying to push him.

  “Stop struggling and it won’t hurt” he said.

  He pulled my dress up and my knickers down. He’d undone his trousers and by now I was crying

  “Please, don’t” I said, my fists punching his shoulders. I looked at him and he was smiling and then he covered my mouth with one hand and forced himself inside me.

  Suddenly terrible, terrible pain, as he repeatedly pushed himself into me. The pain was so bad I wanted to pass out. I prayed to God to let me pass out so I could not feel it any more. After a few minutes I felt his body relax.

  Again I said “Stop, you’re hurting me” and he laughed.

  “It’s OK, Olga, I’m finished now”. He buttoned up his trousers and then went back inside.

  For a few minutes I stayed in the same position I’d been in throughout my ordeal, leaning against the wall because I couldn’t stand up properly on my own without its support. I could feel fluid running down my thighs but was afraid to go back inside to the toilet to clean myself up.

  There was a door in the yard that opened straight onto the street. I tried to run back to the nursing home but my legs were shaking so much I couldn’t. I kept my head down all the way back not wanting anyone to see my tears or to make eye contact with me because I thought they would know what had just happened to me.

  I felt so ashamed and humiliated and tried to think what I had done or said in the pub to make such a bad thing happen to me, but I couldn’t think of anything.

  I stayed in the bath until it was cold, crying for Mammie.

  ******

  Dear Diary

  I have physical pain and yet I feel numb too. How can that be?

  I’m not the person I was before. That Olga has gone. I cannot concentrate on anything I am asked to do and am always being scolded by Sister Tutor. She asks me

  “What’s wrong with you, are you sick?”

  I can’t tell her. I don’t tell anyone.

  “If you don’t pull your socks up there will be no point in sitting the first year examination again” she tells me. I don’t care any more. I have nightmares now and am too frightened to sleep. When I close my eyes, I see it all happening again, so I stay awake.

  I want to go home, but I can’t.

  ******

  Dear Diary

  Matron called me to her office. I’m not surprised. I know my work has not been good lately. I was hoping she would tell me I could go home. Dr Randall, who carries out some of the three monthly student medical examinations, was sitting behind Matron’s desk. He spoke first.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you Nurse, you are pregnant and I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave St Giles”.

  The room started spinning and I don’t remember what happened next, except I was sitting down and Matron was giving me sips of water from a glass. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe what Dr Randall had said. Neither of them asked me any questions, which was just as well because I didn’t have any answers.

  “I don’t know how I got pregnant” I told them and I started crying. Matron was very, very kind and said

  “Leave things to me, I will arrange everything”.

  Later Moores came to my room and asked me what had happened, so I told her what Dr Randall said.

  She asked me who the father was and I said

  “I don’t know”.

  But she didn’t believe me,

  “You must know who made you pregnant Olga, after all you it’s not like you know a lot of men. What man have you been with?”

  And then it began to dawn on me that maybe it had been John Edward. I had never mentioned to anyone what happened that day in the pub, even when I saw Moores the next day I didn’t tell her. But now I told her everything. By the time I’d finished, she was crying and came over and hugged me tight.

  “Oh, Olga, I’m so sorry. I let you down. It would never have happened if I’d been there.”

  Still holding me she asked hadn’t I realised afterwards that I might be pregnant.

  I told her “No. Mammie brought us up very strictly at home and we never talked about things like that, so I had no idea how babies were made. When my sister Chickie was pregnant we were never allowed to discuss why she was getting bigger and bigger. We knew she was going to have a baby but Mammie never told us how babies were made. We were always told that babies were sent by God and delivered to the mother. That was the sort of upbringing we had”.

  “Oh Olga”, Moores said, “and you a nurse. Never mind, my family know a doctor who will get rid of it for you. It won’t
help you get your job back but at least you won’t be burdened with a baby and can go back to Jamaica and your family won’t know anything about it.”

  I knew Moores meant well, but I was horrified by her suggestion.

  “But, I would know. I can’t do that. It would be a sin.”

  When I went to bed I thought about my family. There had been so much gossip about us over the years, so many scandals and I didn’t want to be another one. When I thought of Mammie I ached to put my head on her lap, just once more, and feel her hand stroking my head like she did when I didn’t feel well.

  I don’t feel well now Mammie.

  Then I said my prayers and prayed for God to forgive me for my wickedness and the shame I had brought on my family

  ******

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Report

  Miss Olga Josephine Browney

  by

  Miss Geraldine Franks, Superintendent,

  Catholic Refuge for Friendless Girls, Barclay Road, Fulham, London

  Olga Browney was referred to the home by Miss Mary Norton, Matron, St Giles Hospital, Camberwell. Throughout the interview Miss Browney sat on the edge of her chair with her head bowed.

  I told her that the first thing we had to do was to complete a registration form for her and she would have to tell me something about herself. As she answered my questions her voice trembled and her hands shook and when she mentioned her mother she started to cry. Miss Browney has made it clear she does not wish her mother, or any member of her family, to be informed about her situation. She says she does not want to hurt them.

  We then moved on to the father of the child. At this point she refused to talk about him and no amount of encouragement on my part would make her. I decided not to press the matter.

  I then asked her what plans she had for supporting the baby once it was born. When I explained that she could put the baby up for adoption, for the first time in the interview Miss B raised her head and said she would keep the baby. As gently as I could I explained to her that she may have no choice in the matter especially since she was not prepared to take the baby home to her family in Jamaica. I asked Miss B, how, if she kept the baby and stayed in England, she planned to manage, support and care for herself and the child. Miss B said she would find a job and work.

  It is quite obvious that Miss B feels she has brought shame on her family by her predicament, but I am concerned about her decision not to return home and have tried to persuade her to change her mind.

  I am at a loss to understand why the fear of confronting her family with an illegitimate child is greater than choosing to remain in a country at war, without the support of friends or family and treats unmarried mothers with contempt, not to mention the problem that her colour may bring.

  Fortunately, there is time to persuade Miss B to place the child for adoption.

  Geraldine Franks

  Superintendent

  *****

  Dear Diary

  I never knew places like this existed. Matron said I was lucky to be here because this is a Catholic refuge and other girls in my state end up in the workhouse which she says, are very unpleasant places and the treatment of the women in them is often cruel and harsh.

  “Here”, she said, “they will treat you well and take care of you until you have your baby”.

  My room is cold and bare with an iron bed, a table, a chest of drawers, a large white enamel jug and bowl. On the wall is a big crucifix of Jesus on the cross. I like the cross being there. It makes me feel I’m not so alone.

  There are eight other women here, all waiting to have their babies. I spend my days cleaning the refuge or peeling vegetables in the kitchen. When I’m not working I stay in my room and say my rosary. We are forbidden to speak to each other during the day but can talk for one hour in the evening after prayers. But I don’t want to talk to anyone. I feel ashamed. I keep myself to myself.

  Why do I dream of the things I can’t have.

  Last night it was Cissie’s wedding. I saw everything so clearly.

  Father Baker performed her wedding ceremony at the Holy Trinity Cathedral and there were flowers everywhere. Cissie walked down the aisle on Sydney’s arm to the music of the wedding hymn, looking beautiful in a simple white silk dress with a long tulle veil and a spray of orange blossom in her hair. The tots and I were the bridesmaids and we wore pale blue dresses with broad hats trimmed with blue lace and chiffon. Over sixty people attended the service, as well as Dyke’s family and friends and including three of Cissie and Dyke’s children.

  After the ceremony everyone went back to Mission House. In the back garden Mammie had arranged for a large booth made of bamboo and coconut leaves to be built and decorated with lignum vitae and pink bougainvillea. This was where all the wedding presents were put before they were unwrapped. There was a table in the garden covered with a white linen table cloth and on it stood the wedding cake with a net over it and pinned in several places.

  After the bride, the wedding cake was the centre of interest and the guests had to bid money to uncover the cake. They would try and outbid each other and by the time the cake was uncovered Cissie and Dyke would have several pounds, as well as lots of lovely presents.

  It was such a happy, noisy day with so much laughter. I thought about Michael Sales and the pretty earrings he’d given me at my leaving party in Kingston and how he said he’d wait for my return so I could be his girlfriend. Not now Michael, you wont want me to be your girl friend now.

  ******

  Chapter twenty seven

  Olga’s Diary

  Dear Diary

  Marie: So many people were in the labour room of St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington, three medical students watching as part of their training, two nurses, Sister and a doctor. After eighteen painful hours it was nearly over.

  “One good heave now Olga. I can feel the head” the doctor said and then finally the baby slipped out.

  Before the mouth and nasal passages were cleared Sister had slapped the baby on its bottom and it cried immediately. Then it was weighed, washed and wrapped in a blanket and given to me – I had a baby girl. I was frightened holding her because she was so small and I thought I would hurt her.

  “Babies are tough, Olga. Give your daughter a cuddle” Sister said kindly. I wish Mammie could see my tiny, perfect little daughter.

  ******

  Dear Diary

  I’ve christened my daughter, Marie-Thérèse, after my favourite nun at Alpha Academy and I’ve had to register her birth. When the Registrar asked me the father’s name, I just shook my head. I felt ashamed, but he was a kind man and patted my hand and gave me a little smile, but his act of kindness made me cry. I have no idea how I am going to look after my baby. I have no home, no money and no job.

  Then the problem was solved for me. Miss Franks came to me and said that because of my circumstances, my baby would be taken from me and put in an orphanage to give me time to think about whether placing Marie for adoption was best for her. She also told me that Matron from St Giles had said I could work at the hospital, as a maid, for a short time, which would give me some money, and I could stay in the refuge for a while until I came to some kind of decision about Marie.

  I’ve asked Miss Franks if she could arrange for Marie to be baptized at St James’s Roman Catholic Church in Spanish Place and Moores said she would be Marie’s godmother. Immediately after Marie was baptized I handed her over to a complete stranger to be taken to an orphanage in a place I’d never heard of, Gloucester. If Moores hadn’t been with me I think I would have ended my life then.

  “In Jamaica we have Obeah men who can work evil against people who hurt you, you know, Moores. They can make bad things happen to that person. I only have to ask someone back home and it will be done.”

  “That’s voodoo, Olga”

  “Maybe it is, but I want to hurt him for what he did to me”.

  “Would it help if I pop into John Lewis and bought a little doll and
some pins, then you can pretend the doll is John Edward and stick the pins in it.”

  “Don’t laugh, Moores, believe me Obeah works, I know, I’ve seen it working” I told her. I looked at her and there was a little smile on her face.

  “Forget all that rubbish Olga” she said putting her arm around me.

  “You need to concentrate on finding a way to get your baby back.”

  ******

  Dear Diary

  Miss Franks wanted to see me. She showed me an advert from a newspaper. A toddler and baby nursery in Wimbledon wants help in its nursery and she thinks that with my nursing training I should apply for the job particularly as no school leaving certificate is asked for.

  It is a private nursery in a very big posh house at the end of a long drive in Victoria Drive, Wimbledon. I was interviewed by the two trained nurses who ran it. They were called Sister Warner and Sister Pateman. The Sisters told me that the mothers of the babies at the nursery are in the navy or army and when they have finished their tour of duty, or the war is over, they will take their babies back again. I told them I had a little baby, Marie, and asked if she could come with me and unbelievably they said I could bring Marie with me. Oh what joy.