Sheila had left school at fourteen and started work at Green Brothers factory. She wondered what her mother’s reaction would have been to her working there, after the confrontation with the foreman years earlier. However, unlike Mary, she wasn’t having to sew smelly and dirty sacks, and, besides, there wasn’t a great deal of choice when it came to local work.
In conversation at home, Sheila mentioned that the company was looking for part-time staff to make ropes for warships. Joan’s ears pricked up but she said nothing to her sister. Instead, the next day, she went down to Greens to enquire about the job, and walked away as a part-time employee. She had mentioned the fact that her sister Sheila worked there but, like Sheila, had made no mention of Mary’s one-morning stint and their mother’s tirade!
The work didn’t prove to be as bad as Mary’s had been but it was still quite unpleasant, coiling lengths of heavy rope that trailed on damp, stone floors, that then became very dirty. However, it was only for four hours a day and Joan welcomed the break from the house. With Mary having given up work during her pregnancy and being able to look after Anne when she wasn’t at nursery or with Rosie Goldsmith, it also brought in some much-needed extra money.
Despite Annie’s opinion of working at Greens years earlier, both of the girls were sure that their mother would have approved of their jobs. They were doing what being a family and pulling together was all about. Annie, having struggled financially all her life, knew the value of money all too well and she was always grateful for any extra income. As Greens was just a short walk away from Battle Road there were no travel expenses either.
Back when they had lived in Bermondsey, things had definitely been tougher in some ways. Just having enough money for the bus fare to work at Koupy Gowns had been a frequent trial for Mary. After giving Annie her weekly 12 shillings wage and being handed back 2 shillings, Mary’s money didn’t go very far. Although Mary never resented it and had been pleased to be able to help her mother and support her sisters, it had meant that she was often unable to pay her bus fare to and from work. Annie would hand Mary her daily fare but by Friday, or even by Thursday, the ten shillings would have been eaten up and Annie would desperately be searching for coins to cover Mary’s travel costs.
Not wanting to embarrass her mother, Mary occasionally went downstairs and asked her uncle Mike if he would let her have some money so that she could get to work. Mike had problems with reading and writing, and had never gone out to work, so his parents used to give him some money from time to time when he did various chores. The family might not have considered him capable of being able to look after himself but he had a mind for money. He also showed a rare flair for the horses and his weekly bet on the races invariably saw him picking up winnings from the local bookie.
Mary hated having to ask Mike for her bus fare, though, because he was always very reluctant to part with his money. He wouldn’t say much. In fact, he rarely said anything at all. There was usually a lengthy silence before he eventually mumbled, ‘I’m short myself,’ or ‘Can’t your mum help you out?’
In the end he had always given in and handed her the money, but not before he had made her late for work.
‘Thanks, Uncle Mike,’ she would say quickly and then rush out the door before she missed another bus.
With Joan able to walk to work at Greens, everything felt easier to manage and the two young women settled into a routine quickly. Joan felt useful again and Mary was enjoying looking after Anne, getting in some parenting practice before her own baby arrived.
Having heard the glowing reports of the success of the D-Day landings on the wireless, but nothing of the Allied casualty toll, Mary didn’t feel overly worried about Frank being in the midst of it. Nevertheless, after he’d been away for six weeks she was relieved and delighted to receive a letter from him, saying that he was well and that he missed her, and that he hoped they would be reunited soon. He made no mention of his terrifying ordeal, the many lives that had been lost, or the continuing life-threatening danger he was in as the Allied troops pushed deeper into France in the offensive against Germany.
A long summer of fighting against the Germans ensued before the Allies finally managed to break out of Normandy and, in August, a pincer movement of Canadian, British, Polish and American forces cut off the retreat of the German Army through the town of Falaise, inland from Caen. The Normandy campaign finally ended on 21 August and the pursuit of the enemy into Holland, Belgium and Germany itself was now on.
Germany was now on the back foot and many of Hitler’s top generals despaired of his increasingly defiant insistence to attack at all costs – even when retreat would have saved the lives of tens of thousands of German soldiers. However, in spite of this, the Führer decided to attack Britain on the home front once again. This time with a new, improved version of the V-1.
The V-2 rocket was an astonishing advance in technology. The V-1 had caused terror with its distinctive sound that warned of its arrival and potentially imminent explosion, whereas the V-2 travelled faster than the speed of sound, crashing and exploding without warning, bringing with it a different kind of terror. The first V-2 was launched towards Paris on 8 September 1944, and caused modest damage near Porte d’Italie. This was followed by another V-2 attack on London on the same day. The bomb landed in Chiswick, West London, reducing rows of houses to rubble, killing three people and seriously injuring seventeen.
These frightening weapons caused the Jarman sisters to be even more concerned about their father. During the evenings, Pierce had taken on air-raid duties in Bermondsey, walking the streets to make sure that all lights were out during bombing raids and guiding people to shelters. He was also part of the night-time fire-watch team, based on top of the town hall near to where he worked. If the team saw any building set on fire by a bomb they would telephone the National Fire Service, but tackled smaller fires themselves.
There was ample opportunity for Pierce to be affected by Hitler’s new weapon and the girls worried about him all the time. At night, in their beds in Battle Road, the girls would pray to God for the safety of their father as well as Frank.
In the midst of this hell, at times life carried on in a very normal way for the girls. In stark contrast to dark and dangerous war-battered London, Kath and Pat got to wear their pretty white Communion dresses once more, when they made their Confirmation. This sacrament – a confirmation of the vows made during the Baptism service – took place in neighbouring Eastbourne. The journey was as exciting as the event itself because Father Frost drove them there in his car, along with a couple of other girls from their school. Kath and Pat had never been in a car before and they felt like princesses being chauffeured to a ball. More delights came after the official service when they were treated to tea, cake and soft drinks in beautiful tea gardens at Wannock, just outside Polegate. Here the girls looked in wonder at the lily ponds, rock garden and, in one of the greenhouses, a delightful miniature Japanese garden.
‘Mind you don’t drop anything down your dress, Pat,’ Kath cautioned her younger sister, as both bit into a slice of cake. They enjoyed this part of the day much more than the church service. The weather was beautifully sunny, birds sang in the garden, and war, deprivation and sadness were bleached from their consciousness for a brief but blissful period as they lifted their smiling faces up to the warming sun. Even when it was time to go back home, they looked forward to getting into the car once more with Father Frost. This small but golden memory stayed with the two girls for the rest of their lives.
Christmas 1944 saw people in better spirits than they had been in years. Finally, it really did look like this dreadful war, which seemed to have gone on and on with raised hopes and dashed expectations, might soon end. Paris had been liberated by the Allies on 25 August and German troops in the French ports of Boulogne-sur-Mer and Calais had surrendered at the end of September.
The prospect of peace, however, took another battering when Hitler surprised the Allies once more with a m
ajor offensive a week before Christmas. American units in northwest Europe were caught off guard when German tanks and troops thrust through the Ardennes, heading for the Belgian port of Antwerp. The bold move aimed to split the Allied line allowing the Germans to encircle and destroy them. As the Germans drove deeper through the forest, the Allied line, as depicted on maps, took on the appearance of a large bulge and gave rise to the offensive’s name, the Battle of the Bulge.
Christmas in Hailsham saw Mary heavily pregnant with her baby. For her monthly antenatal check-ups she had been given the opportunity to go either to the hospital in Eastbourne or to Guy’s Hospital, by London Bridge, which was the closest hospital to their Abbey Street home. Mary had thought she wanted to be at Guy’s, as it was one of the biggest and most renowned hospitals in the country. However, she began to regret her decision when the monthly journeys to London became an increasing ordeal.
In mid-January 1945, three weeks before she was due to give birth, Guy’s Hospital arranged for Mary to move to Northampton, safely away from the V-2 rockets both in the capital and along the south coast. There she would stay at a house with two other young women, also pregnant for the first time. When the time came to give birth, they would be admitted to the local hospital. What should have made life easier turned into one of the worst experiences of her life and, although she was only at the house for a few weeks, it seemed an eternity.
The elderly landlady was completely insensitive to the feelings of apprehension the young women were experiencing. All were just twenty years old, anxious about pregnancy and giving birth, particularly as they were away from their husbands, families and friends.
On top of this, conditions inside the house were spartan. Mary had to share a double bed with one of the expectant mums, Maudie, who lived in the Old Kent Road, while the other had a single bed in a separate bedroom. It was freezing cold outside, where the snow lay ten inches thick, and inside the house it wasn’t much warmer. Each night, the three women had to share one hot water bottle between them to warm their beds – not easy when one of them was sleeping in another bedroom. On one night, the bottle would start in the double bed, warming it before the women got in, and then it would be passed to the single bed for the rest of the night. The following night, the procedure would be swapped so the bottle warmed the single bed first.
‘I’m not sure who’s the luckiest,’ said Mary to Maudie one night after the water bottle was removed from their bed. ‘Having the water bottle while it’s really hot or getting it not so hot but being able to put your feet on it until it goes cold …’
The landlady didn’t believe in the women sitting or lying around all day. She stressed that exercise was healthy and vital, and terrified them by saying, ‘If you don’t get enough exercise your baby will stick to your womb.’
Not knowing anything about such matters, they firmly believed her and so walked with her every day, through the snow, into the centre of Northampton. It was while they were in town that they visited the chemist to purchase a razor and toilet paper, which they had been asked to supply for themselves during their stay in hospital. Embarrassed about buying these personal items, they pretended to the shop assistant that they were parcelling them up to send to their husbands on the war front.
One evening at dinner, Maudie was having trouble chewing and swallowing the fatty meat on her plate. After doing her best, she ended up leaving most of it.
‘Why haven’t you eaten your meat, Maudie?’ the landlady asked, clearly unhappy.
Maudie didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that it was fatty. Besides, she was too frightened to complain, so she answered, ‘I’m not very keen on meat, to be honest.’
The landlady said nothing but raised her eyebrows. The remark was noted and Maudie came to regret her little lie because she wasn’t given any more meat at all during her stay and often felt hungry. All three of the women thought that the landlady disapproved of them being young mothers, and that was why she treated them like naughty, foolish schoolchildren rather than women who were about to become parents.
How Mary wished she had gone to Eastbourne Hospital, where she could still see her father and her sisters, who she missed desperately. Northampton was just too far away for them to visit. The isolation was miserable and she clung on to the idea of her baby – it wouldn’t be long now before it arrived.
When Mary’s contractions started late in the evening, the landlady insisted that she make the journey to hospital by foot, instead of calling for an ambulance.
‘The walk will do you good,’ she insisted.
The snow was still thick so Mary put on her wellies and trudged alongside her landlady in the dark to the hospital, a fifteen-minute walk away. However, it took much longer because Mary had to keep stopping to catch her breath, and it was while she was holding on to some railings that surrounded a US Army base, halfway through the journey, that her waters broke.
‘Something’s happened,’ said a horrified Mary, as she felt the wetness running down her legs and into her wellies. ‘I’m soaking wet!’
‘Your waters have broken,’ said the landlady, as matter of fact as ever. ‘Come on, let’s get a move on. The quicker we walk, the quicker we’ll be at the hospital.’
The rest of the journey was even more horrendous. Mary felt the American soldiers could probably hear her squelching past their base! It was a great relief when the hospital finally came into sight. Once there, she was taken into the delivery room, clutching her razor and toilet paper, and spent sixteen hours in labour, wearing long white compression stockings to prevent blood clots, and feeling absolutely terrified.
Unfortunately the midwife, like Mary’s landlady, was lacking in compassion. After giving her some gas and air she took a no-nonsense approach to the proceedings. ‘Now push,’ she shouted at her young charge. ‘And pant.’
Mary was clueless and the midwife rebuked her sharply whenever she didn’t do as she was told. It was a lot to take in. And then there was the pain … She just hadn’t been prepared for this. She had had no mother to talk to about such things; Pierce hadn’t been able to help. How she longed to have her mother by her side. Right now, she felt like she needed Annie more than ever.
Annie, after all, had given birth six times, so would have been able to tell her exactly what to expect and put her mind at ease. It was the fear of the unknown that was so traumatic. During this difficult time she imagined how wonderful it would be to have her mother by her side, smiling and holding her hand.
Finally, Mary gave birth at 2 p.m. on 7 February 1945 to a baby boy whom she named Christopher. She remained in hospital for fourteen days, as was usual at the time. For the first week she was confined to bed and wasn’t even allowed to sit up. She had to eat all her meals lying on her side and had no visitors. However, Mary felt she could bear anything now. She was relieved and delighted to have given birth safely to a baby boy. Her only wish was that Frank could be there to see him.
After two weeks, Aunt Nell arrived to accompany Mary and her new baby back to Hailsham. After all that time lying in a hospital bed with no exercise, Mary felt weak and thought her legs looked terribly thin. Nell was her usual matter-of-fact self and didn’t even smile at the baby or Mary. She was no substitute for Annie but Mary hadn’t expected her to make a fuss, and so she wasn’t disappointed. Just saddened. In contrast, her sisters were delighted and excited to see baby Christopher, their first nephew. Even Pierce gingerly held his grandson in his arms. Mary was greatly comforted by being at home with her family after what she could only describe as an ordeal.
On the war front, the Battle of the Bulge had come to a quick end on 28 January as the Allies, having recovered from the surprise, used their superior numbers to push the Germans back decisively. Now they were retreating into Germany itself.
However, whilst Mary was feeling safe and comforted within the bosom of her family, V-2 rockets were still flying over and falling, for the most part, on London. Then, on the night of Fri
day 2 March, a strike on Dockhead shocked the Jarman family, along with the rest of the strong Catholic community of that part of Bermondsey.
Pierce had already left for Hailsham, as usual, shortly after finishing work, but later that evening, just before 11 p.m., a V-2 rocket hit the presbytery near Most Holy Trinity Church, causing the four-storey building to collapse. Three priests – Stephen Spillane, who had married Mary and Frank, Finbar MacCarthy and Michael O’Riordan – were all killed instantly. A fourth, Edmund Arbuthnott, along with the housekeeper, Bridget Slavin, miraculously survived.
Father Arbuthnott had been trapped beneath rubble and thought he was likely to die. Having passed out temporarily after the bomb hit, he had awoken on the floor with a mass of debris pinning him down. Local people had rushed to the scene but there seemed little hope of finding anyone alive. However, when a rescue party from the local Civil Defence Service arrived, milkman turned section leader Albert ‘Ted’ Heming had heard a faint cry for help. He crawled through a small hole and painstakingly removed the bricks, rubble and a main timber that was pinning Father Arbuthnott down. Despite the danger of further rubble falling and burying them both, the priest was rescued after three hours and taken to hospital, along with Bridget Slavin, where they both made a full recovery.
The relationship between parishioners and their priests in Dockhead had never been confined to weekly mass attendance. The priests would regularly visit their parishioners’ homes and were held in high esteem by the congregation. They were also the people that parishioners could go to for help.
Shortly before the war, Annie had sought help from the then parish priest, Father O’Kane, when she couldn’t afford the money needed for Mary to go on a two-week school trip to the Isle of Wight. Knowing how much Mary wanted to go, and desperately wishing she had the money but not wanting to increase her debt with the pawnbroker, she had turned to the priest. He had agreed to lend her the money and she had duly paid it back in instalments without any crippling interest. Even her brother Mike would have charged her interest if she’d borrowed money from him!
The Sisters of Battle Road Page 21