The Sisters of Battle Road

by J. M. Maloney

  Heywood, 18 Battle Road, Heywood, 18 Battle Road.

  For the present

  We are living in

  Heywood, 18 Battle Road.

  However, as time went on ‘the present’ seemed increasingly like ‘for ever’. Until the tide of war slowly started to change.

  Joan was having a similarly hard time settling in. Now aged twelve, she began to attend the secondary school almost opposite their house in Battle Road. Hailsham Senior Mixed was quite different to Joan’s previous experience of school. Having come from a Catholic girls’ school in Bermondsey, where she had been taught exclusively by nuns, she found it difficult to adapt to being in a class with boys and to being taught by men. To make matters worse, she formed an instant crush on her teacher, Mr Nichols, who she thought was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen – despite his thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

  Joan was especially conscious that she and her sisters sounded very different from the local children of Hailsham – who the Jarman girls considered to be ‘posh’ – and didn’t find it easy fitting in at school. She also felt that some of her classmates were snobs and treated her shabbily. It was good news, then, that Mr Nichols took a shine to Joan – realizing how hard it must be for her as an evacuee in a new school. It was clear that he wanted to help and encourage her as much as he could.

  It still wasn’t plain sailing, though – and at times it was downright disastrous. Joan had always thought she was good at mental arithmetic – addition, subtraction, division and multiplication was what she was used to – but to her horror, her new class was working on fractions and percentages, which she hadn’t yet studied at all.

  One day in class, they were given a quick test. As Mr Nichols read out each question, the pupils wrote down their answers in their exercise books. Joan became increasingly anxious when one question after another passed and she had no idea what the answer was. In a panic, she began scribbling figures down in the hope that something might be right, but by the time she had finished she felt sick with worry and nerves.

  ‘Right. Swap your books with whoever’s next to you and when I call out the answers, tick the ones that are correct and put a cross against the incorrect ones,’ said Mr Nichols.

  Joan felt her heart sink even further. Now she was going to be publicly humiliated. She toyed with the idea of not handing over her exercise book but the girl next to her was already proffering hers and so Joan swapped reluctantly. As Mr Nichols read out the answers, Joan began to feel worse and worse as she made one tick after another on her neighbour’s page. When she was passed her own book back and saw a cross against every single one of her answers, she felt so ashamed that she wanted to cry.

  ‘Which clever person got them all right? Twenty out of twenty?’ Mr Nichols asked with a smile. A couple of hands shot up proudly.

  ‘Excellent. Well done. Nineteen?’ A few more hands went up. As he counted his way down, Joan felt that she would rather be anywhere than here.

  ‘Five? Four?’

  Panic rising, Joan was sure that she would be the only one who had not got any right at all.

  ‘Two? One?’

  In a desperate attempt to avoid complete humiliation, she put her hand up.

  ‘OK, Joan. I’ll work on those with you and you’ll soon get the hang of things,’ Mr Nichols said kindly.

  Then came the not-so-kind remark from the girl who had marked Joan’s score and knew exactly how many she had got right. In a loud voice she said, ‘She didn’t get anything, sir!’

  Joan felt her face flush with embarrassment but Mr Nichols ignored the comment, which filled her with relief and made her teacher even more admirable in her eyes.

  When Joan arrived home from school, Annie asked her how her day had been.

  ‘The kids are snobby and maths is nothing like what we did in Dockhead,’ she replied miserably.

  ‘And your teacher?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ said Joan, her eyes widening and a smile creeping on to her face. ‘He looks just like Errol Flynn!’

  The girls made the most of the garden in their first few days at Battle Road. The freedom of open space all around them was a completely new feeling, and they knew they were very privileged to have some grassland where they could sit or play right outside their own house.

  Back in London, despite their granddad’s best efforts in the back yard, the play area was the road and they would spend every spare hour in the street with their friends. It was quite safe as there were seldom any cars, just horses and carts and the occasional lorry. One of their favourite pastimes was to lay a long, thick dray rope across the road, with two girls each holding an end in both hands. They would slowly begin to swing it, building momentum until, when the moment was judged exactly right, a group of their friends would rush into the middle and begin to skip along to one of their favourite skipping songs. Indeed, there were so many songs that they even had them for special occasions: ‘Good Fri-day, never let the rope go emp-ty.’

  Should any horse and cart or vehicle come into the road, the rope would be lowered to the floor to let it pass over and then the game would continue.

  There was also a peculiar little ditty for consecutively throwing and catching two or three balls at the wall.

  One, two, three, O’Leary,

  My ball’s down the airy,

  Give it to Jane and not to Mary

  Outside the penny bazaar.

  Another much-loved game was whip and top, and the girls particularly liked to coil the whip around the spinning top, stick the point of the top into the nearest piece of earth, usually at the bottom of a tree, and cover it with some silver foil. Once the whip was pulled away sharply, the top would spin in place and delight the children with the dazzling silver glare. They would also amuse themselves by seeing who could keep a large wooden hoop rolling the longest by hitting it from behind with a stick.

  In Battle Road the Jarman sisters, unused to playing anywhere else, naturally took to skipping outside the house. It was a particular favourite pastime of Sheila’s, who could go on for hours without tiring. During their games early one evening, a man who lived two doors along the road approached them with a look of disapproval on his face. Joan recognized him as one of her teachers.

  ‘I don’t think you should be playing in the street,’ he said to the girls. ‘Why don’t you go into the garden and play?’

  ‘We’ve always played in the street,’ said Joan.

  ‘Well, we don’t play in the street here,’ he replied brusquely, and walked off.

  The girls looked at each other, feeling the force of his rebuke, and with all the fun having vanished in an instant, they trooped back inside the house, feeling oddly ashamed. From then on they played either in the garden or in the nearby recreation ground, known as the rec. It was another reminder that they were different; that their London ways were not necessarily welcome in Hailsham.

  The Thursday of that first week in Battle Road, Pat turned six. Before setting off for school, her sisters wished her a happy birthday and gave her cards. So too did Annie, writing ‘Love from Mum and Dad’ inside, complete with kisses, even though Pierce was miles away. It was the first time that he had ever missed being there for one of his daughters’ birthdays and his absence was felt keenly by all. A smiling Pat just had time to open presents, which included crayons and sweets, before leaving for school but she looked dejected when Annie told her there would be no cake that evening. She cheered up instantly, however, when Annie added, ‘We’ll save that for the weekend, when Daddy comes down.’

  During that first week, the girls looked forward eagerly to the arrival of their father and the chance to tell him all their news. Meanwhile, Annie determined to make the new house feel like a home once some extra furniture and provisions arrived. Upstairs, Mary Eddicott did the same for her family, feeling that things were looking up after a stove was installed and she was able to cook a proper hot meal.

  Pierce had written back to Annie to say t
hat he would visit them on Friday evening after work and stay with them over the weekend before travelling back to London on Sunday evening. Annie had given him instructions, as best she could, to take a train to Polegate, then a bus to Hailsham and a short walk to Battle Road, but she felt very far away from London and worried all week that he wouldn’t be able to find them. While the younger girls were all at school on Friday, Mary helped Annie make one of Pierce’s favourite meat pies for him to enjoy with his family on his arrival.

  Although she missed him terribly, Annie was comforted by the thought that Pierce was not entirely on his own at home. As well as having her parents living downstairs, Pierce’s spinster sisters, Nell, Rose and Mary, who lived nearby in Stanworth Street, were very protective towards their brother. Annie had no doubt that he would be spending many evenings at their house where they would spoil him with their home cooking and feed him luxuries he could barely afford when she was in charge of the family meals.

  Pierce’s sisters were rather stern and forbidding. Not only did they share a house, but they also all worked together as machinists – making army uniforms once the war started – and they were a formidable team who doted on their brother. Annie had never got on with them very well and was convinced that their frostiness stemmed from their resentment towards Annie for taking their brother away by marrying him.

  At least living here in Hailsham I’ll be well away from them, she thought to herself as she rolled out the pastry for Pierce’s pie.

  The girls too were less than fond of their aunts. The women had no affinity with children and lacked any of the warmth or kindness that might be expected from an aunt, being more of the ‘children should be seen and not heard’ school of family relations. At least they shared a love of Pierce and, as Friday evening drew on, the girls looked forward excitedly to seeing their father. Kath, Sheila and Pat twittered on.

  ‘When will he be here, Mum?’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘How long now?’

  ‘Girls, you’re getting under my feet,’ said Annie, putting the pie in the oven whilst Mary and Joan helped to prepare the vegetables. ‘Why don’t you go and look out of the window and watch for him?’

  ‘Yes!’ they squealed and scampered off.

  At first, they stared intently out of the window, thinking every passer-by was Daddy.

  ‘There he is!’ said Kath. ‘Oh, no … That’s him! Oh, wait a minute … No.’

  ‘Is that him?’ asked Pat.

  ‘Course not, Pat. Don’t be silly.’

  After a while, Sheila tired of looking out of the window and went off to help out in the kitchen. Kath and Pat were thinking of giving up too, when they saw him appear.

  ‘He’s here! He’s here! Daddy’s here!’ they yelled. As Annie and the older girls joined them from the kitchen, they watched the familiar figure, brown holdall in hand and flat cap on head, studying the front door of each house as he approached.

  Annie rushed out to meet him, reaching out and embracing him tightly. ‘I’m not sure they do that in the street here,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Never mind. You’re late,’ she teased. ‘Tea’s ready.’

  They walked arm in arm towards the house but didn’t get very far as the girls rushed out to welcome him ‘home’.

  Pierce barely had time to put his bag down in the hallway before he was dragged around the house, from room to room, by his excitable daughters, who were eager to show him their new surroundings. Like the girls, he thought the garden lovely. He felt a surge of relief and happiness that they were all together as one, living in a nice house and had been looked after. The feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

  ‘I’ve missed you all … so much,’ he said with a tear in his eye, suddenly overcome with emotion.

  Annie watched him, smiling sympathetically, as the girls chorused, ‘We missed you too, Daddy.’

  ‘The girls have so much to tell you,’ Annie said to her husband. ‘But they can do that over tea.’

  During the meal, Pierce listened attentively to their stories, interjecting with the odd question about school, friends and life in Hailsham.

  ‘All the kids are snooty,’ said Joan. ‘They don’t like us much. They’re not very nice at school.’

  ‘They’re not very nice at the rec, either,’ piped up Kath. ‘Calling us names like “ginger”.’

  ‘Yeah,’ added Pat, feeling that she should contribute something to the string of complaints.

  Pierce looked over at Sheila, who had been unusually quiet. ‘How are you finding things, Sheila?’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right, I suppose,’ she said. ‘But I miss my friends from back home. And we all miss you.’

  Pierce gave a little smile. ‘Well, I miss you all too. Lots,’ he replied.

  When they’d cleared their plates, Annie asked the girls to sit around the table a little longer, and she fetched a home-baked cake from the larder with six candles burning in a circle. Pat glowed with pleasure as Pierce led the chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ and told her to make a wish. Screwing up her eyes, and puffing out her cheeks, she silently wished that her father could live with them for ever. Then she blew with all her might until the last of the flickering flames went out.

  After slices of cake and much laughter, the younger girls went off to play while Mary and Joan cleared the table and started the washing-up. Pierce and Annie stayed seated, relishing each other’s company once more.

  ‘And how have you been coping?’ Annie asked him.

  ‘I’ve been managing,’ he said.

  ‘I expect you’ve been spending most evenings in the pub. While the cat’s away …’

  ‘No … no,’ Pierce protested. Then, with a shy smile he added, ‘Well, I’ve had one or two pints. But … no.’

  ‘Yes, I can imagine.’ Annie gave him a knowing look. ‘Have you seen much of your sisters?’ she continued airily.

  She wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised when he said that they had been cooking for him, but his next comment did startle her. ‘They thought that they might like to visit.’

  Horror flashed across Annie’s face and, seeing it, Pierce quickly added, ‘After a while. Not yet.’

  ‘But we can’t put them up here,’ Annie protested. ‘There’s barely enough room for us.’

  ‘Oh, they can stay somewhere nearby,’ Pierce replied. ‘They’re not short of a bob, after all.’

  ‘I know that!’ said Annie sharply, but not wanting to ruin the moment she then fell silent. She was used to getting her own way most of the time but knew when to withdraw tactfully.

  Later that evening, with the washing-up done, the family settled in the front room and the girls were delighted when Pierce reached for his bag and brought out some of their toys and books from home, which they hadn’t had room for in their own bags to bring themselves. With such familiar items in the house it began to feel more like a proper home.

  After the girls had gone to bed, Pierce and Annie chatted some more and gave each other a kiss and a cuddle before retiring for the night. There wasn’t much room for any more romance as Annie crept into the one remaining camp bed in the bedroom full of her sleeping daughters while Pierce huddled down on the living-room sofa.

  The following day saw the Jarman family strolling around Hailsham, with Annie pushing three-month old Anne in her pram, and the other girls showing Pierce the local landmarks.

  ‘That’s my school,’ Joan pointed out. ‘There’s a really nice teacher there. Mr Nichols. Teaches maths.’

  An amused Annie commented, ‘Looks just like Errol Flynn, apparently.’

  ‘Errol Flynn,’ repeated a smiling Pierce. ‘Well, I bet he’s popular.’

  As they turned into the High Street, they walked through the historic market square and then turned right into George Street where Pierce was directed to marvel at the ornate, neo-classical design of the gleaming-white Pavilion Cinema. In truth, though, his eye was more attracted to the cosy, inviting lu
re of the nearby George Inn.

  They showed Pierce the vicarage and church hall where they had been taken on the day of their evacuation and then took a leisurely walk around the large pond on the common in the centre of town.

  On Sunday morning, with the children at church, Pierce walked down to the newsagent to buy the News of the World, his newspaper of choice, and sat down on a chair in the front room to read about how war was escalating overseas. Canada had joined Britain, France, Australia and New Zealand in declaring war on Germany, and the War Cabinet warned that the conflict would be long but it would be victory at all costs. Pierce felt stirred by the confidence and patriotism but the German military and naval build-up was increasing at an alarming rate.

  After church, on that sunny, balmy afternoon, as the girls sat in the garden, chatting and casually picking and eating the loganberries that were poking through the fence of the adjoining garden, international hostility seemed to be happening in another world.

  ‘Don’t eat too many. You’ll get a bad tummy,’ Mary advised her sisters, as she stretched out her legs.

  Joan gave one of the protruding branches a tug. ‘We’ve not had many,’ she said.

  Suddenly, they were startled by the appearance of a head over the fence. It belonged to a tall and slim woman with iron-grey hair pulled into a bun, and she was frowning.

  ‘You may have any berries that are on your side of the fence but don’t pull any through,’ she said sternly.

  The girls felt very guilty as the woman turned away but then decided that she had been unnecessarily harsh on them.

  ‘She’s a bit mean,’ whispered Kath. ‘There’s loads of fruit in her garden. Wouldn’t you think she would let us have some?’

  ‘A real meanie,’ Pat agreed.

  When the girls told Annie what had happened, Annie remarked that she had already met their neighbour.