The Diaries of Nella Last

by Patricia Malcolmson

  I became conscious I was leaning over car gripping a cloth-sleeved arm firmly and then remembered, as ship started off stocks, a man rushing up and down trying to see over the dense rows of people’s heads. I beckoned him and helped him up backward onto car step and for the few minutes taken for launch had held him by one arm! – funny what excitement can do!! By his broad Glasgow accent and by his queer pitted skin – and also by his breath! – I think he was a ship’s engineer. He pulled off his cap and said to Arthur ‘Lad, it was grand. And thanks to your leddy I saw it “aw”.’ Arthur sometimes gets cross with me for being impulsive but he only laughed today and said ‘You do do some odd things, my pet!’

  Arthur shares my love of ships and sea and when he was small I used to take him to see all the launches. We – the townspeople – had full run of the Yard in those days and we always used to stand close to stocks. I recalled a launch I’d heard my Gran talk about – the first steamship to be launched at Barrow, the City of Rome. They did not know much of steamships those days and had put boilers in and launched her with her own steam. My mother, who was married twice, had delayed her honeymoon so that she and her husband could accept invitation to launch lunch, a much coveted honour even today. An explosion took place and one man was flung high into air and killed. Most of his blood fell on my poor little mother, a bride of twenty. Her silver grey dress was splashed and the bunch of ostrich plumes in her bonnet were dyed crimson. Exactly a year later her husband died and her unborn child only lived a few weeks. In after years she married my father but I never remember her happy and smiling. It was as if she was frozen somewhere.

  When the Mikasa was launched – our first Japanese warship – I was a little girl and was taken by some friends to see it – mother never went to a launch. I can see high platform now, crowded with twittering kimonoclad Japanese ladies. Instead of breaking a bottle of champagne to launch her a huge wicker cage of the most beautiful white pigeons was opened on all sides by a pulled ribbon. It was a lovely sight, and a novel one, to see the clouds of lovely flashing wings circling over slowly moving hulk, but suddenly a curious hissing chatter and shaken heads above on platform made us realise that something on platform was wrong and then we saw pigeons had only flown over ship once and then had gone back to their wicker cage. I believe it was the gloomiest lunch that had ever taken place in Yard after launch – and in Russo-Japanese war she sank as untrained gunners let off all guns on one side and tide caught her and keeled her over!

  Winston Churchill [First Lord of the Admiralty] would get a pleasant impression of our northern town for sun came out again and it was a glorious day. Arthur says if Germany could miss such an opportunity of wiping out our two aircraft carriers – the new one [Illustrious, soon to be commissioned] was held back, it seems, for big War Office party to see – Winston Churchill and a few thousand skilled workers conveniently collected together to make an easy target, she will never bomb anywhere in England!

  Wednesday, 27 March. The chief topic of talk everywhere was Winston Churchill – he seems to have made a very good impression by his ‘ordinariness’, and his free and easy manner and knowledge of things in general. He, together with his son and a big party of big-wigs, made a tour of the machine shops. I asked if he had a new hat for occasion and learned that he had walked round with his hat on end of his stick!

  I baked bread and spiced gingerbread to send to Cliff and called it a day for Ruth said she would do anything else so that I could take time off with Arthur. We decided to go to Coniston by way of Woodland Valley. It was lovely and clear but the hard winter has bitten deep at moors round Woodland and as yet there is no sign of greenery on their bare rocky slopes. We ran into a real blizzard of snow and it was odd to be so surrounded by big snowflakes and to look a little way ahead and see the sun. We got out of car several times to catch, and put back over fence, little frisky lambs which had squeezed through tiny gaps and could not get back to their mothers.

  Coming home by Coast Road we found we had half an hour to spare so I told Arthur I’d like to go and look at aircraft carrier again in Channel. We were just in time, however, to see her being towed round through swing bridge to her place under the crane. It was nearly as interesting as seeing her launched. Two tiny tugs drew her like Pekinese drawing an orange crate while two in reverse pulled nearly as hard to keep her on her course. Two fussy little tugs each side kept pace with the helpless hulk and a fire boat stood by. She reached her position – but in centre of dock. Then the two near side tugs scuttled quickly and joined two off side ones and the four turned as one and like clever little elephants headed her to her berth. All the time from open ports on carrier the clang of hammers and the glow of electricians’ and riveters’ braziers told of ceaseless work that would go on night and day for months.

  On the first Sunday of May 1940 Nella and Will were enjoying the sunshine in the seaside town of Morecambe, and in walking about listening to people’s conversations she heard ‘not one remark of any kind about the war!!’ This, however, was about to change. From the second week of May 1940 there were many startling developments on various battlefronts, including the German assault on Western Europe, the rescue of most of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) from Dunkirk, the fall of France, the exposure of Britain to German aerial attack and the intensified commitment almost everywhere in the country to civil defence.

  Mood swings during these tense weeks were to be expected. In late May women at the WVS centre were worried about their sons in the BEF – and then were much relieved a few days later when news arrived of their safe return. Nella’s own feelings were often mixed. On 6 June, a lovely evening, she was at the seaside at Walney and ‘We parked near a big crowd and I noticed they were Jewish. Our Jews are decent respected tradesmen who have been here for at least one and sometimes two generations and grown a part of growing town and I looked at the pretty girls and babies and thought how each family had at least one son in Forces and I contrasted their happiness and quiet content with their relations and friends on the Continent.’ Nella felt that the Nazis had tapped into and were driven by a profound Evil – and while they seemed to be in the ascendant, she thought they were stoppable. ‘If I thought I were in the right’, she wrote on 12 July, ‘I’d kill – or be killed. That’s why I know we will win for our soldiers know they are in the right and that knowledge will be a spur.’ Sometimes the war to her seemed near, sometimes far away. Her confidence in the future ebbed and flowed. ‘I think war nerves come and go like waves’, she wrote on 30 June. An encouraging military event or Churchill’s bracing words on the radio might buoy her up (he became Prime Minister on 10 May). The expectation of German air attacks, perhaps even invasion, forced Nella and her fellow WVS members to ponder their personal resources of courage and fortitude, which had not yet been seriously challenged but which soon, they thought, would be. Some feared that Barrow would be in peril ‘once’ the Germans took over Ireland.

  During ten days in the first half of August, Nella wrote about a wide range of matters.

  Sunday, 4 August. It’s been such a lovely day and after a soup, cold meat and apple pie lunch we went up to Coniston Lake. Arthur and I climbed a steep path through the woods, looking for sloes.† We were unlucky for the blossom had not set and only a brown crumble was where purple sloes should be. The early promise of a good nut crop has vanished as has also the holly berries, partly through caterpillars and also the too dry spring. It’s a delight to see the fat contented lambs munching the new sweet grass where only a week or two ago they searched the brown scorched ground so vainly. It’s such a puzzle to me how cars from Glasgow, Ipswich, Southampton, Northampton, York, Cardiff etc. can come all the way to the Lakes, as well as scores of Blackpool and South Lancs cars. There must be a lot of petrol about somewhere. There was crowds of people about, hiking and cycling as well as motoring, and it looked as if there were people staying in the villages. Evacuees too were about in numbers and altogether the peaceful Lake road was unlike its normal
quiet. Arthur loves Coniston Lake as I do and found no fault today in the ‘tripper’ atmosphere and when we got above in the woods and looked over the water it seemed impossible that War and the upsets of today existed. All was so still and the hills looked so ageless, so unchanging that even Hitler and the threatened invasion fixed for today seemed futile.

  Arthur says the Board has called for Inspectors to go to East and South coast to relieve the Tax Inspectors who are losing so much sleep they cannot work. He volunteered but Cliff said there was no use sending his name through till after he had got his Commission [after writing final exams]. Only another two months for him to go now and then he will be off again and he says he will volunteer again so he will be in the danger line somewhere. He is right and I cannot take the attitude his father takes – that he is a fool. We must all take our share and help each other and I’ve noticed that ‘wisdom’ does not always bring the happiness that ‘foolishness’ does. ‘Whoso saveth his life must lose it’, and I wonder if the hidden meaning is that we must not grow to think of ourselves too much and that in helping others we help ourselves more. I look at my two aunts of 73 and 75. The deaf one [Sarah] of 75, who has had a life of hardship, has the sweetness and calm that radiates confidence while the other [Eliza], who had a family to care for and plenty to manage with but who always seemed to expect things of life and people, is a real worry both to herself and others. She says no one wants or loves her, but she does not want them really and although she clings to me so, it’s only because she likes to be comfortable and likes what she calls the ‘peace and quiet’ of our house. She does not care really whether I’m there or not. The swallows are dipping very low and my lavender bush smells overpoweringly sweet and in spite of lovely day and evening I feel rain not far away.

  Monday, 5 August. My husband came in and asked if we would like to go to Morecambe as his brother had given him an extra petrol coupon. I’m always ready for a festa† of any kind and it did not take me long to pack a picnic tea and we were off at 1.30. It was lovely after the rain and all looked clean washed … I saw few changes in Morcambe from peace time except of course the air raid shelters and the uniforms. It was full of visitors and I thought of Scarborough and the East Coast ports and seaside resorts. It’s so queer everywhere now – nothing is ‘fair’ or equal or ‘right’ anywhere or for anyone. It does look as if we were under an evil star or some kind of influence.

  We always go on Heysham Head and we met some teachers who were staying from Barrow and I sold them some of my Sweep tickets. They had heard about them and teased me and said I’d have the police on my trails – the last Chief Constable was very down on Sweeps of all kinds. I said I’m not at all worried for the late Chief’s wife has two tickets and the new Chief’s wife has taken a book to sell for me!

  There was such an odd collection of people on the Head and it was quite a while till I could place the difference to the usual crowd. It was an intense interest – a happy interest – that gave me the clue and I said to Arthur ‘Do you know I believe many of the people here are seeing Morecambe for the first time, or a very rare time’, and we had a kind of game as we did when the boys were small – an ‘I spy’ game. Arthur said I did not play fair for I went into the ladies’ toilet and on the pretence of getting two half pennies changed into a penny got talking to quite a crowd and found that quite half were unused to a day trip which ‘cost such a lot of money’. Two were agricultural workers’ wives and they were staying over the weekend – one had a son in the Air Force stationed at Morecambe. I said ‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it? Did you never think of paying Morecambe a visit before this?’ She smiled and said ‘Aye, thought on it, but it’s first time I’d had cash eno’. Happen next year we will aw come for a week, if t’money’s as good.’ There was an old happy looking woman who smiled and nodded to all and told how her grandson – a grand lad – had said for her ‘to come and he’d pay her fare and give her a good time’ and went on to say that grandson was working on new chemical works going up. Poor old lamb, she could have been a danger if spies had been about for she seemed to know far too much about construction of new works. A severe looking little girl with pigtails said rather smugly ‘Careless talk costs lives, MY TEACHER says’ and the old woman said ‘I’d never dream of telling a SPY anything. I’m sure there are none here.’ As there were four at wash bowls and several combing hair, not to speak of waiting queue, and all strangers, it might have been a question.

  Tuesday, 6 August. I’d a busy morning for I’d a wire from Cliff [in Chester] to say he would be home by lunch time. In the middle of the morning two little girls came and solemnly presented me with a cardboard box with 1s 3½d in – ALL for the soldiers! They had made a ‘bran tub’ and charged ½d a dip and judging from a handkerchief that I saw that had come out of ‘tub’, their mothers would be far from pleased when the handkerchief drawer was visited. They said their mothers had told them to ask me what they could do and as I was busy and wanted them to go I said ‘What about collecting silver paper for soldiers and papers and magazines for the sailors and I’ll take you down to Sailors Home and you can give them to Mr Dickinson yourself?’ I thought I’d got rid of them but they were soon back with a pile of a woman’s paper called Mother and when Arthur opened it at random it was at a page on ‘What to do the last week before the little stranger’s arrival’. We had a good laugh at imagined remarks of a minesweeper or submarine crew!

  I dashed down to Centre to meet my sister-in-law and arrange about Savings Group and raffled a lovely flower jug and got 16s and arranged for someone to take a bunch of flowers round for a 1d raffle and help Mrs McGregor make tea and then told Mrs Waite I was coming home AND that as I’d arranged all for Thursday I was taking day off! She was so cross and when I said ‘There will not be one thing neglected and it’s only one day’ she said ‘I don’t see need for you to be off all day. I think you could come in for half a day.’ I just laughed and said ‘Now don’t be stuffy. You will have a whole day’s peace with no one to tease you.’ I’ve got two new knitters and there were four sold books of tickets handed in and others taken and now nearly all books are out.

  Wednesday, 7 August. We went to Spark Bridge this afternoon and Aunt Sarah was so delighted to see the boys. [Cliff was now visiting Barrow, as well as Arthur.] Cliff wants to go up Friday night and we will pick him up on Saturday when we go. He has my love of liking to be alone sometimes and wants to tramp about by himself. He says it might be the last time he is able – such a silly thing to say; perhaps he means to stay with Aunt Sarah. I hope it’s not one of his hunches but Aunt Sarah is 76 on Friday and seems to grow tinier every time I see her. Cliff says he sees a great change in her, but she is as bright as a robin and always gay and happy with a trust and faith in God’s plan I have never seen in anyone else but her mother, who was my Gran. The boys were off dancing tonight and my husband and I went off to see James Cagney in The Roaring Twenties.

  The following day was Arthur’s 27th birthday, and Nella laid on a cake and other treats. ‘I felt as gay as a bird when I saw my two darlings’ faces, so bright and happy, and while no doubt a bit of their gaiety was a show for a birthday tea, I knew they, like me, had memories of many happy birthdays.’ That evening ‘We sat round the fire after supper and talked and wondered when we would be altogether for a festa again. Cliff insisted on his cards being read and I saw broken journeys and changes and a far off place. He seems to think he will be at Chester for duration as it’s a busy training place and Physical Training Instructors are kept busy. Arthur’s cards were of a strange unrest of mind and body. His passing of his exam will not be the “journey’s end” of things he is anticipating and so eagerly banking on. Cliff said “You are not as good as you used to be, old thing” and I said “No, I am out of practice”, but I thought of the days when there was so many gay things and happy little trivial things to see in cups and cards. Now it’s as if there is only one thing to see – a muddled greyness with at the best a lighter grey. I
t’s a silly thing anyway to tell cards or to try and see ahead. Just a day at a time and let tomorrow look after itself is best for ordinary people and leave the plans for the future – and the worry – with clever people who have forethought and courage in addition to being clever.’

  Saturday, 10 August. The boys have gone dancing – more to meet friends who happen to be on leave or still left. It’s not many who are for he had not a lot of friends who worked at Shipyard and so many of the older boys who knew Arthur were in Territorials and called up right away – it was estimated that one in four of them were lost at Dunkirk. I made some soup tonight – I have never kept my stock pot going so much in summer as this last year. My mother-in-law never uses the giblets of a fowl so sends them up and this week I’ll have Cliff’s favourite soup tomorrow and as he got some more mushrooms I’ll add some of them in Monday’s soup. I’ll add sliced tomatoes and Arthur will have one of his favourites. While Arthur and Cliff have been home and I’ve had extra cooking and work and Arthur has needed the dining room table to papers and books – and quiet for study – I’ve got no sewing done so have concentrated on some knitting. I bought enough wool for vest about last Easter when I had a little surplus one week. It’s been rather a bogey whenever I thought of them for I am no knitter but I’ve got one finished except for stitching together and quite a quarter of the other.

  Sunday, 11 August. We sat and talked of beliefs and faith and Arthur said suddenly ‘What do you believe, Dearie?* I never remember you teaching us to pray to Jesus – always God, our “Father”. Don’t you believe at all in Christ?’ I was taken back for a few minutes and had to think, but try as I would I could not put my thoughts and beliefs in plain words. I often think my ‘religion’ is odd and wonder if it’s because of my quieteyed Quaker Gran who always spoke of our ‘Heavenly Father’ and then again a sister of my father’s always had the name of the Saviour, Christ or Jesus Christ on her tongue and yet got me so many whippings by her tale telling that I both hated and feared her! Anyway, for whatever cause I’m definitely not a Christian and I could not say I was – nor would the boys have believed me. Cliff really likes to go to church and communion and I go with him but I rarely go alone although when young we all went as a matter of course. I think my religion is a mixture of wishful thinking, nature worship and a stern belief in God that is Jewish, although as far as I know for at least four generations that I can trace on my father’s side of the family and none since Elizabeth on mother’s side – at least – has there been Jews in the family. I tried to tell the boys my views – a beginning again [i.e., reincarnation], belief in God’s Plan, trying to help those who needed it, and being true to oneself rather than to any creed – but I didn’t feel I did it very well. They will find their own faith and roots themselves no doubt as they grow older.