Annie’s parents would join the family upstairs for Christmas dinner of turkey and vegetables and a homemade apple pie. Then, in the evening, they would all go downstairs for a party with visiting aunts, uncles and cousins on Annie’s side of the family. Her brothers Arthur and Tom would be there with their wives, as would Annie’s Uncle Jack who lived opposite, her other brother Mike and the girls’ cousin Kit. The house came alive and everyone had their own party piece, including the children. Mary and Joan always rehearsed some dance moves together and over time perfected what they called ‘The Irish Fling’ and ‘The Sailor’s Hornpipe’.
Granddad caused some sniggering amongst the girls because he would traditionally sing a song they had never heard anywhere else, which included the recurring line ‘Over the burning sands of Egypt’, and seemed to go on for ever! Standing with a glass of beer in his hand, he would sing verse after verse, and at frequent intervals the girls would clap enthusiastically in the hope that he was finished but each time he would take a deep breath and carry on. Kate would watch him appreciatively and shoot sharp looks at her granddaughters whenever they clapped prematurely, saying crossly, ‘He’s not finished yet.’ When he did eventually come to the end, he would mistake the heartfelt applause of relief as encouragement, prompting him to launch into ‘Danny Boy’. He would become so emotional with his rendition that by the end he would be crying his eyes out!
Boxing Day was spent at Pierce’s sisters’ house, where there would be another singalong with various relatives on his side of the family this time. Aunt Rose’s speciality was ‘Two Little Girls In Blue’, while Aunt Mary tried but – truth be told – mostly failed to accompany her on the piano. The melancholy song began:
An old man gazed on a photograph, in the locket he’d worn for years;
His nephew then asked him the reason why that picture had cost him tears.
‘Come listen,’ he said, ‘I will tell you, my lad, a story that’s strange but true.
Your father and I, at the school one day, met two little girls in blue.’
Then, the adults and the girls, all familiar with the song, would join in with the chorus:
‘Two little girls in blue, lad, two little girls in blue.
They were sisters, we were brothers and learned to love the two.
And one little girl in blue, lad, who won your father’s heart,
Became your mother, I married the other, but now we have drifted apart.’
All of these happy memories came flooding back the first Christmas that Pierce and the girls spent without Annie. After seventeen years of marriage, Pierce was a changed man following the loss of his wife. Despite the traditional husband and wife roles that typified the era, Annie had always been the tougher of the pair. She had been the driving force who had made the pennies stretch, kept up standards, run the household and made most of the decisions. Now living with his sisters during the week in London, their company helped to take his mind off his bereavement but the feeling of loss intensified, almost like a physical pain in his stomach, as the festive time got nearer and happy memories of Christmases past began to haunt him.
He yearned to be with his children and to hug them tightly, and couldn’t wait to finish work for the Christmas break and get on a train to be with them in Hailsham. He hoped that they would help to ease the pain.
On Christmas Eve he did his usual rounds, collecting money from meters for the Electricity Board, but found it difficult to focus on anything other than finishing work at lunchtime and being with his family a couple of hours later. He had been shopping down The Blue a few days earlier and had bought some sweets, books and small toys for his daughters, which he had already packed into the travel bag that was waiting at home.
Kath and Pat in particular were to be very lucky girls that year because, carefully wrapped up in newspaper and also placed in his bag, were two china dollies that had been given to him by his younger brother Albert’s wife. They had sat on her dresser as ornaments over the years but now, with Annie gone and Pierce doing his best to buy his girls presents, she felt that she should pass them on.
Pierce had worried about giving such beautiful gifts to only two of his children but didn’t want to deprive Kath and Pat of them. Anne was too young for such a fragile doll, he reasoned, Mary and Joan were too old for them, and he thought Sheila might be too. So Kath and Pat seemed to be best suited and he did his best, with the help of some money from his sisters, who had taken pity on him, to buy some extra little presents for his other daughters, to make up for it.
Now on his round he noticed how, despite the escalation of war, people generally continued to be of good cheer, and he was greeted with smiles and hearty hails of ‘Merry Christmas’ at many of the houses he called at. He managed a wan smile in return but how could he tell them that he was still in mourning? It had only been six months since Annie’s death and it felt as raw as ever – even more so at such an emotional time of the year. Merry Christmas? For some, maybe, he thought.
The morning seemed to drag. He checked his watch regularly and when he was finally able to finish work, he hurried back home, packed some last-minute belongings into his bag and headed for London Bridge station with his heavy luggage in one hand and a box of fruit he had bought as a Christmas treat tucked under his other arm.
Train services were limited on Christmas Eve and he was unable to travel directly to Polegate, the nearest station to Hailsham, so he boarded one that necessitated changing trains. As he journeyed out of London, though, his mind racing with thoughts of his girls waiting for him and of Christmases past, he went flying past his station and had to alight further down the line. There was then a long wait before he could get a train back in the other direction, and an even longer wait before getting the next one to Polegate.
It was eventually dark as his train pulled in to Polegate. The station was deserted and there was no bus service to Hailsham. Everyone, it seemed, was already home for Christmas. The journey had been stressful, Pierce hadn’t spoken to anyone for hours, and he was feeling lonely and depressed. He should have been with his family by now. Instead, he was still some way off – about three miles – and the pitch black of the countryside during the wartime blackout was considerably more disorientating than in London with its buildings and pavements and people. Always people. There was nothing else to do but to set off on foot and hope to hitch a lift if he saw a passing vehicle.
The cold bit through his old overcoat, his arms ached from carrying the bag and the box of fruit, and his despair increased with every step. The only thought that kept him going was his gaggle of girls, waiting to greet him in the warmth of their country kitchen.
At Battle Road, the girls waited anxiously for their father, wondering when he would arrive. It was getting later and later. Pierce’s sisters, too, were concerned about his whereabouts.
‘Is Daddy ever coming?’ asked Pat.
‘He probably had to work later than he thought,’ Joan answered. ‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’ But she knew he should have been with them hours ago. Already missing their mother, Joan was struggling to keep her sisters’ spirits up in Pierce’s absence.
For Pierce, the walk seemed to go on for ever and there were times when he worried that he’d taken the wrong turning – all the signposts and place names had been removed, in case the Germans invaded. He could hardly see anything in front of him and no vehicles had passed by. Every now and then he had to stop and put the bag and box down to rest his arms. The fresh fruit had seemed a lovely idea at the time. Now he regretted bringing it.
After almost an hour, he began seriously to wonder whether he was going in the right direction. Just when he became completely exasperated, convinced he simply wasn’t going to make it, he heard a noise behind him. It was the sound of an engine. He turned and saw the dipped lights of a vehicle in the distance. As it approached, Pierce put down his bag and stuck out his thumb in a hitchhiking gesture. He felt a burst of hope as the car stopped and a man�
�s head emerged from the window.
‘Where are you going?’ asked the driver.
‘Battle Road,’ Pierce replied.
‘You’re in luck. Get in and we’ll drop you off.’
Pierce breathed a huge sigh of relief. The man got out to help him put his belongings in the boot, and Pierce jumped into the back seat, next to an even bigger brown cardboard box than his own. The woman in the front passenger seat turned and smiled at him.
‘Sorry about the squeeze,’ she said, and explained that they had just been to a party and were bringing home some of the balloons and other party decorations.
‘Oh, I’m just so relieved to get a lift,’ Pierce replied. ‘I’ve had the most horrendous journey.’
Pierce told them of his travels and said he was going to see his daughters. During their conversation, it transpired that the couple knew Mary because she collected and delivered their laundry. As the couple listened sympathetically, Pierce’s pain and anxiety poured out when he talked about the loss of his beloved Annie and how it would be the girls’ first Christmas without their mother.
When they pulled up outside the house in Battle Road, Pierce couldn’t thank them enough. It was their pleasure, the kind couple told him. But his emotional state hadn’t gone unnoticed. As Pierce stepped out of the car, the man, on a whim, picked up the cardboard box from the back seat.
‘Here, take this,’ he said.
‘I can’t take that,’ Pierce replied.
‘Yes, you can. I can’t think of a better home for it. Anyway, it’s not for you. It’s for your girls; for them to decorate the house with.’
The man carried the box down the path to the side door and Pierce shook his hand warmly and thanked him for his kindness once more. He stood to watch the car drive off down the road, waving them goodbye, then he heard the sound he had longed to hear for what seemed like an age.
‘Daddy!’ The door was flung open and the girls rushed to him, hugging him and dragging him inside. Pierce felt a lump in his throat and tried to fight back the tears welling in his eyes, but it was no good. He was so overcome with emotion at being reunited finally with his girls that his eyes began to water. Unable to contain himself any longer, he burst into tears.
The girls were shocked. ‘What is it, Daddy?’ they chorused. ‘What’s wrong?’
Embarrassed, Pierce shook his head and spluttered, ‘I’m just so happy to see you. That’s all.’
Nell looked at him and softened. She had little compassion for others but Pierce was her brother and she loved him. She squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly.
‘Sit down,’ she told him. ‘You’re here now.’ However, Pierce just couldn’t control the tears that coursed down his cheeks.
‘Fruit!’ exclaimed Kath, as she noticed the box of apples, pears and nuts on the floor.
‘What’s in this other one, Daddy?’ asked Pat, her hands already on the box that had so generously been donated.
‘Hush now,’ said Nell. ‘Let your dad rest for a while.’
The girls could barely contain themselves but, once Pierce had recuperated with a double dose of family warmth and a glass of beer, he helped his delighted daughters pull out the party decorations, which they put up around the house excitedly.
‘You girls need to be off to bed,’ said Nell after a while. There were moans from Sheila, Kath and Pat but when Pierce reminded them that they had to be asleep before Father Christmas arrived, their spirits soared again and they took themselves off hurriedly.
After Mary and Joan had also retired for the night, Pierce became melancholic once more as, for the first time in his life, it now fell to him to cram his socks with little presents for the girls. Although his sisters helped him out, he missed his wife dearly. There was an absence of fun and he longed for her to be there; to hear her voice, feel her presence, share a laugh and to hold her in his arms.
Pierce sat chatting with his sisters for another hour, over one more beer and a cigarette, which helped to lighten his mood. Then, when he judged that the girls were asleep, he crept as quietly as he could up the steep staircase, past the precariously placed toilet, carrying his gift-laden socks, and put his ear to one of the bedroom doors, listening for any sound. All he could hear was sleepy breathing and light snoring, so he crept in and gently placed a sock at the foot of each bed, smiling softly at Sheila, Kath, Pat and Anne’s angelic faces. He exited and returned a few minutes later to sit the two china dollies carefully on top of the chest of drawers.
Back downstairs, he entered the large bedroom to the rear of the house and placed a festive sock at the end of the beds where Mary and Joan were asleep, and then got ready to retire for the night. It had been a long day and he fell asleep quickly on the downstairs sofa under a comforting blanket.
Kath awoke early in the morning. The chinks of subdued light between the curtains suggested that the darkness of night had not yet faded and the sun was yet to rise. Through her half-opened, bleary eyes, she could make out two shapes on the chest of drawers. Curious to see what they were, she opened her eyes wider and was startled to realize that the shapes were in fact two beautiful dollies. Kath felt the excitement coursing through her body but, fearing that she would ruin the magic if she got out of bed too early – and perhaps saw Father Christmas – she squeezed her eyes shut again and, with a little smile on her face, eventually went back to sleep.
Later that morning, still bright and early, there were squeals of delight when the girls woke and saw their presents. Kath and Pat in particular could scarcely believe that they had been given the dollies about which they could only dream. Neither had owned a doll before but had improvised in imaginative ways. During the summer months, they would collect flowers that had fallen from the fuchsia bush in the garden – sometimes even plucking them gently from the plant itself if Annie wasn’t watching – and, holding them delicately between two fingers, bob them up and down, imagining they were pretty little ballerinas in pink tutus. They would also line them up along the top of the wall so that, in a little girl’s imagination, they resembled the ‘Dance of the Little Swans’ from Swan Lake.
Even a statue of Our Lady in the bedroom would be utilized as a doll when a mother or older figure was called for!
Pierce explained quietly to his other daughters that the china dollies had in fact been given to him and that was the only reason why their younger sisters had such lavish presents. He was relieved when Mary, Joan and Sheila took it in good grace and didn’t resent it at all. He was also amused to watch Kath and Pat playing with the dolls so sweetly and gently, despite being the most tomboyish of the sisters.
‘Get yourself ready for church, girls,’ said Aunt Rose. ‘You don’t want to be late. There will be a lot of people there today.’ She was right. The girls managed to squeeze into one of the pews but little St Wilfrid’s Church was so packed that some latecomers had to stand at the back. A church service was always torture for the girls, but today of all days they simply couldn’t wait for it to end so that they could rush back home to play with their presents once more.
There was a special treat of some chicken and vegetables for Christmas dinner. Not a lot, but enough to go around. As they sat tightly packed around the kitchen table, Pierce raised his glass in the air. The excitable chatter died down gradually as, one by one, they all became aware of his posture. When all was quiet he said simply, ‘To Mum.’
As his daughters and sisters raised their glasses and each took a large gulp, there was a moment of sadness before Pierce, regaining his spirit quickly, smiled and said, ‘Come on then, eat up. Mum wouldn’t want your food to get cold.’
In the afternoon, Kath and Pat were sitting on the floor, engrossed in playing with their dollies, when Pierce suggested the family go for a walk to ‘help the food go down’.
‘Come on, you two,’ he encouraged. ‘You can take your dollies with you, if you like.’
‘No, I’ll leave her here,’ said Kath, after a moment’s hesitation.
‘I want to take mine,’ said Pat.
‘You can both take them,’ said Pierce. ‘Besides, I want people to see what lovely presents you have.’
While Pat was happy with that idea, Kath was decidedly less so. As overjoyed as she was with her present, she felt that at the age of nine she might be considered a little too old to be playing with dollies. Happily playing with it in private was one thing but in public … She was embarrassed by the thought of her friends seeing her. Worst still, her enemies.
‘What if I drop her?’ she said to her father.
‘You won’t. I’ve been watching how careful you both are. Come on. Let’s show them off,’ he said, thinking how delighted Annie would have been at their neighbours seeing what fine presents they could afford.
Kath reluctantly did as her father asked but, for the duration of the walk, she held the doll close to her, its face against her chest, doing her best to conceal it. She couldn’t wait to get back home where she could play with it without any inhibitions. Spending as much time away from his daughters as he did, Pierce lacked the understanding that Annie would have had about her girls growing up fast and being a bit embarrassed about certain things.
That Christmas was as difficult for the girls as it was for Pierce, who, more than ever, felt the absence of Annie so keenly. Although she was in everyone’s thoughts, after the toast nobody mentioned her again because they feared that it would be too painful. For the last six months, Pierce had done his best to keep strong for the girls. However, the memory of seeing their father crying uncontrollably on Christmas Eve, his emotions having got the better of him, would never be forgotten.
The new year got underway with no sign of the war ending. Pierce and his sisters continued to visit Hailsham at the weekends once the festive period was over, but the girls were becoming increasingly self-sufficient and able to look after themselves.
The Sisters of Battle Road Page 14