Chapter Six

THE TRIBUNAL

While living in the cottage my mother had got a job at the main Post Office and John had started work at Herbert Morris the big engineering firm.

A dis-used chapel was set aside for the London evacuees in King Street that was to house about 250 children and three teachers one of who was nearly blind. She had been brought out of retirement to teach the infants. This she could manage with the help of two senior girls.

To say that it was crowded would be an understatement but we managed and I even passed my 11+ to go to Rawlins Grammar School but my parents had neither the money or the coupons for the uniform.

The Londoners were looked upon as foreigners because we had come from another part of the country.

We were blamed for T.B. nits, scabies and anything else that was going round.
It took some time for the barriers to come down between the Southerners and the Midlander’s.

Once they got to know each other some firm friendships were formed as well as marriages.

It was 1942 and my mother had not received any money from my father to keep us because Mount Pleasant Post Office had been bombed heavily and it looked as though my mothers housekeeping money had gone out in a blaze of glory.

I must add here that though my parents fought like cat and dog from when I can first remember after finally going home to live with them, my father had NEVER kept my mother short on her housekeeping money. It used to come regularly to her all the time we were away from my father.

My mother knew that a special place was set aside for the evacuees in dire straits where they could go if they needed help in an emergency.

I went with my mother to this austere looking building. We were taken to a room where a bald headed man was sitting behind a huge oak desk, on which stood two inkwells. One with red ink and one with black. He demanded to know what we were there for and my mother said that she had not had any money come through and would like to know if she could borrow some out of the evacuee kitty to see us through until she heard from her husband.

He started ranting at us and scrabbling in the small safe and threw on the desk 3s/6d. 32 and a halfpence in todays currency.

Even I as a 12yr old knew that the amount would be no good to keep us until we heard from Dad. Our rent was 5 shillings ( 25p ) a week before buying the rations. Just as all this happened another woman came in. She was another victim of having no housekeeping money to live on through the same circumstances.

Meanwhile the bald headed man said as he threw the money on the desk "You all want to get back where you came from instead of taking money and wanting handouts."

OH DEAR! OH DEAR! He had said the wrong thing to the wrong person.

I can see my mother now with that look of anger on her face as she picked up both inkwells on the tray that they sat on and just threw the lot all over him. She was saying at the same time "You cheeky git you! Don't you dare talk to me like that. I have lost two homes and my family is split up and you say things like that to me. I will brain you, you bald headed git."

The bloke was spluttering with ink running all down his face shouting out for help. All this was going off while my mother in her anger got hold of the heavy oak desk and just lifted it bodily and tipped it over on him. He luckily saw it coming and moved pretty quickly. I was trying to pull my mother away from the desk where it lay on its side and before she did anything else in her anger.

Someone had sent for the bobby and he came in and told my mother she had to accompany him down to the police station. We went there and my mother had to make a statement why she had gone berserk. She had to report back in a few weeks time because it was going before a tribunal. I was too young at that time to take it all in and I had NO idea what a tribunal was.

When we finally came out of the police station I can remember my mother saying
"Well after all that I am still no better off money wise but I know what I will do"

We were on our way home by this time. Our walk home took us past Johnny Marrs the pawnbrokers. My mother made a beeline for his door and when we got in she wrenched an 18 carat gold keeper ring off her finger that had been her mothers.
She got £3 for it and it had to be redeemed at the end of a month. The rent got paid and we got our meagre rations out of that £3 but unfortunately the ring was never redeemed.

After a few weeks my mother had to go before this tribunal.
She got off with it because the one in charge said that she had been provoked.

They even hoped that if ever it happened again she would be spoken to correctly.
I believe the other evacuee lady who saw it and heard it went to the police to tell them that my mother was provoked.

OR thinking back over it the one who said that she was free with no blame could have been one of those she had sung for.

Once again I have to remind the reader that it was over sixty years ago this happened and things were vastly different then to the present day system.

Chapter Seven

THE CINEMA

This next incident happened in the same year that my mother had lost her temper with that ignorant man at the evacuee centre. This took place about three months after that fracas.

I had been off school with measles. My mother had said that when I was better, before she let me go back to school that she would take me to the pictures to see Pinocchio.

I was quite excited about this because it was a rarity for my mother to do anything like that.

The day dawned when this wonderful event was to happen. My mother said that before we went in the pictures she would purchase the rations of two of the family and get the other two lots at the weekend. This was because by this time my sister had come from London to live with us.

The family consisted of my brother, sister, mother and myself. My eldest brother had been sent to Burma with the RAF and my father was still living in London working on the docks.

We duly went in and got the rations that included a tin of Spam and two fresh eggs two portions of cheese, lard and butter. Nothing that would go sour during the time we would be in the “Empire” cinema.

We got in and waited for the lights to dim before the film started. I was on the edge of my seat because I was SO excited about seeing Pinocchio. It had been out since 1940 and it was in Technicolor so it would be a real treat for me to see. If I remember rightly it was 1s/6d or 12 and a half pence for adults and 9d or about 7p for children.

The lights finally dimmed and I was all pent up to watch this wonderful film. It got started and about 20 minutes had gone by but I was feeling extremely uneasy about my mother. She did not seem to be paying much attention to the screen but looking down the row in the gloom of the cinema. I tried to see what it was she was looking at and all I could make out was a large gentleman sitting with a little girl next to him holding his Bowler hat on his lap. My mother told me to pay attention to the film.

Once again I got engrossed with the film but suddenly my mother jumped up and raising the bag with the rations in she clouted the bloke across his head saying at the same time "I've been watching you. You dirty git. I'll give you something to remember me by and you wont be doing that again."

OH MY GAWD! Pandemonium broke out. The lights went up the manager was running down to see what was going off. The bloke who had been clouted with my mother's bag was clutching at the stars that surrounded his brain after the force of the bag and contents had knocked him nearly senseless. He was so stupefied he sat there with his manhood hanging out.

I was fascinated looking at it. I had never seen anything like it and thought it was some sort of sausage. I laugh at my own naivety now and when I think of today's 12 year olds. They are a different breed entirely and know exactly what it is all about.
They know more about sex now than I did at 20yrs of age and pregnant with my son.

From what I could gather he had done this sort of thing before and got little girls to hold it for him under the pretence of getting them into the pictures. Once again we finished up at the cop shop but this time my mother was being praised for catching him in the act because the police had been warned to be on the lookout for him.

The tin of Spam was bent out of shape SO much it took ages to try and undo it and the two eggs were smashed to smithereens all over the small portions of butter, lard and cheese. Once again my mother's temper had been a source of my embarrassment.

To crown it all ( pun ) when the bloke said that my mother had hit him and he was going to have her for assault. The policeman said quite seriously, although he knew my mother had hit him deliberately, "Oooh I don't think we can charge anyone for dropping a bag on your head it was an accident"!!!!!!!!!
Once more my mother had got away with it.

I never saw that picture all through until I had my granddaughter. Funnily enough every time I went to see a Disney film something happened that I never managed to see the lot. Its only since my granddaughter came on the scene when I have managed to see every Walt Disney film in the full.

As I have said my mother had a terrible temper but she was also a very gentle type of person in many respects. She would help anyone but anything that she thought was wrong she soon put right in her own fiery way. She was a very complex personality.
As well as having a vicious temper she was extremely superstitious.

I think most people will know the sort of things I mean.This poem depicts my mother exactly with all her superstitions.


SUPERSTITIONS

Are people superstitious today as my mother was years ago?
Like bringing lilac in the house, this could bring much woe
Not to wash on Good Friday or Xmas and New Years Day
Because this was bad luck for family, and would wash a member away.

Number 13 was unlucky and 666 was taboo
This is the devils personal number and he would come looking for you,
Never put new shoes on the table or pass anyone on the stair
Something unpleasant would happen, do it if you dare.

Crossed knives meant an argument and one magpie something sad
Don’t walk under a ladder, spilling salt was also bad,
Breaking a mirror means seven years bad luck for all the family
My mother with all of her sayings tried to put the fear of God in me.

Seven is supposed to be lucky, good fortune is on its way
And to have a black cat cross your path, it could be your lucky day.
I grew up with these superstitions pushed into my head
It’s a good job I ignored a lot of what my mother said

So anyone who believes in all this think hard before you speak
Because to someone who is nervous these sayings can make life bleak!.

Chapter Eight

THE YANKS ARE COMING

By 1943 my mother got a key for another house in South Street after six months in the cottage and by this time we had managed to get a bit more furniture, all bought from the auction rooms I might add.

My father came to stay for a while and believe it or not he brought with him the piano that had been in the pub cellar. I still think to this day that my mother was more pleased to see the piano than she was my dad. He also brought with him “Blue” the lovely blue Persian cat that we had.

My father used to be a stevedore and he came home one night in May of 1940 with a beautiful blue Persian kitten that he had found abandoned in the hold of the ship.

My mother had an instant bond with that kitten and Blue as we named him was my mothers shadow. When the blitz started and well before the siren wailed out its warning he used to stand clawing at the side of the door. It gave us time to get our belongings together and get down the Anderson shelter. Shrapnel had hit Blue about three times but my mother nursed him back to life each time and she always shared her food with him although we were rationed.

Blue had to stay behind with my father and sister until we got a place of our own in this new town that we had gone to live in for safety. My sister had already joined us in Loughborough some months before. She was 18 years old by this time and working at the Brush Engineering works. When we did finally get a house my dad brought Blue down to us. It was then that my father said that Blue had saved his and my sisters life because a direct hit bombed what was left of the house and it buried my father and sister alive. They were trapped for 48 hours but Blue wriggled away from them and somehow found a way through all the bricks and mortars that lay on top of the Anderson shelter. His continuous meowing and clawing at the debris finally brought the firemen to the spot where dad and my sister were still trapped.

My sister had NEVER told us about this incident and I can only assume that she was still traumatised by it. We never knew anything about this until Blue was in my mother’s arms. We were SO proud of him and he was over the moon to be back with his beloved mistress, my mother.

Our joy lasted for two weeks because the neighbour that we lived against was anti cat and he put poison down that Blue licked and he died in agony in my mothers arms two weeks after surviving all the horrors of the blitz and saving two lives. I still weep about it now. To think he had gone all through that to die the way he did. We could not prove it about the neighbour but if we had I think my mother would have brained him. She would definitely have been locked up for good.

I must add here that many animals were put to sleep when the war started. My mother would not let Blue be put to sleep.  I can recall going to the pictures with my mates one evening and as I walked home I witnessed this little carry on. I laughed SO much at this incident I put it in a rhyme and here it is.

A TRUE WAR STORY

It was way back in the war years of nineteen forty three

When this incident took place and it can still tickle me.

Everything was rationed and water was precious too

We had to use it sparingly even when we used the loo.

It happened as I made my way home when I was just thirteen

I waved goodnight to my mates, to a cinema we had been.

When I spotted a couple under next door’s bedroom window

Suddenly an old man shouted out and told them where to go

But the courting got quite vociferous, the old man got irate

As he shouted loudly “Buzz off, you two its getting very late”

But the couple carried on and the old man they did ignore

“ Are you going to shift yourselves or do I call the law?”

The pair just carried on oblivious to the old man’s plea

And what happened then was a complete surprise to me.

The old man opened the window and with a bucket in his hand

He poured the lot over the couple on the spot where they did stand.

The couple stopped abruptly as the man shouted in dismay

“ I’ll have the law on you old man wasting water in this way

I have a mind to call the police and have you put in jail

Drowning us with fresh water from your bloody great pail”

The old man was not at all worried by this menacing threat

As he waved his fist at the couple standing there all wet.

“ I told you twice to clear off and now you know” said he

“ And that wasn’t fresh water it happened to be my pee.”!!!!!!!!!

The couple went off reeking of an awful of a urine stench

Their ardour wasn’t just dampened it had also had a drench.

copyright---Maisie Walker 2001--- all rights reserved.

In August 1943 my sister got married to one of the local chaps much to my mother’s distress because my sister had become pregnant.

I can still see my mother sobbing her heart out sitting at the kitchen table and when I asked her what was the matter I was told I was too young to know.

I was by this time 13 years of age. I was old enough to clean and do the washing and starch curtains. Plus cleaning up after my mother throwing food or anything else that was handy at my father, but not old enough to know that my sister was pregnant. I found out after by overhearing a conversation.

I had to be a bridesmaid although my sister got married in blue. Everything was still rationed and my mother managed to get quite a bit of food from singing to her cronies. As I said my father had joined us for short time and he got a job at Morris engineering works. The same place that my youngest brother Johnny worked at.
Johnny was nearing calling up age and he just could not wait to get his enlisting papers.

Towards the end of 1943 a rumour had been going round that the Yanks were coming to the Midlands. My youngest brother had been called up by this time and was now in R.E.M.E

The Yanks came alright and Loughborough had never been so alive. They even found out about my mother and started to look for Ma Johnson as they called her because she would sing all their favourite songs. I could not believe how they seemed to revere my mother until one day I overheard one Yank say to his buddy "Lets go and find Ma Johnson, have you ever heard her sing ' Danny Boy ' Toby?" Toby said, " I guess I haven't, is she good" "She's great and did you know her first name is Amy"?

It suddenly dawned on me that the Yanks thought my mother was a relation to the famous pilot Amy Johnson who had lost her life over the Thames Estuary while ferrying planes back and forth to help our pilots. Crazy, but perfectly true.

My mother used to invite one or two Yanks home for supper if she could get twopennorth of bones to make bone broth with. They loved her because she was like a mother to them. In her eyes they were someone's son, husband, brother or father in a strange country and my mother was trying to make up for the absence of her first born who was fighting the Jap’s in Burma. Plus her youngest son just being called up who was sent to North Africa.

I can remember just before the Yanks were shipped out for the big push the American band came to Queens Park and started to play. A lot of people had turned up thinking that it would be a brass band but even the die-hards got " In the mood " when the band started swinging it. It was brilliant because they were playing Glen Millers music and when they played music that could be jitterbugged to the Yanks who were not in the band grabbed any young girl who was watching and proceeded to jitterbug them all round the bandstand. What a wonderful memory I have of that day. Sadly they started moving out and we all knew why.

It was during this time that my mother took in the two German Jews who had fled from Germany. They had been cruelly treated and raped by the German officers and managed to escape by dyeing their hair blonde. I have no idea how my mother came by this brother and sister I only know that she de-loused them and kept them for about a month until the authorities found them a safe haven.

Yvetta --pronounced Yetta -- and Karl both died of T.B. within two years of each other. They idolised my mother and called her Momma and still came to see her after they left.

Just after Yvetta and Karl went my mother had the offer of moving into number 3 South Street that she jumped at because it was bigger. It had three bedrooms instead of two and we were not so cramped. My mother was quite pleased because she said that it would house her piano better. The comical bit about her and her piano was that she could not play the darn thing.

1944 the 6th of June was when the invasion started. I can remember looking up in the sky to see hundreds of our planes flying overhead and wondering how many would return from the trouble that lay ahead. It was an emotional time to see this sight and I had to write this.

This poem is written as a tribute to all the thousands of men who

took part in this most historical day that ever went into history books.

as written by M. M. Walker

Deliverance Day

June 6^th 1944

 

How well I remember Deliverance Day in 1944

This was the beginning of the end of our six year war.

Many nations took part in this exceptional historic day

To help bring back justice and take tyranny away.

I watched with baited breath as our planes filled the sky

Many would be wounded and many would also die.

What a lot we owe to all that took part in that historical day

They gave us back our freedom and banished evil away.

We should never forget those who fought for us to survive

Just Thank God they gave you freedom and you are still alive.

The V rockets had started over London by this time. This was to be another exodus of evacuees from London who had wandered back home after getting homesick from being evacuated previously.

My auntie who lived in London was in hospital and seriously ill so my mother arranged for her and myself to go to visit Aunt Mary. I was not very happy about this because I had an aversion to hospital smells and always used to pass out.

My mother said that I could go to the nearest picture house and then come to the hospital ready to make our way back to Loughborough. We duly arrived at St Pancras Station and made our way to the hospital.

After I found what ward my aunt was in I made my way to the nearest cinema. Meanwhile the V rockets had started to come over but they seemed to be moving further over London and not in the spot where I was making for.

I spotted the roof of the cinema at exactly the same time as a V rocket came over and as it cut out I knew that the cinema was going to be the target. I shot into a doorway and covered my head with my coat. The explosion lifted me off my feet but I was not hurt in any way excepting for shock.

Was that bloke called God, who my mother always called upon during the blitz, looking after me?

I had a narrow escape by not being in the cinema at that time. I do not know how many people lost their lives in that cinema that fateful day. I made my way back to the hospital where they treated me for shock. I was thankful to see Loughborough again when we got home.

Three weeks after this incident the evacuees started coming from London to escape the V rockets and my mother took in three brothers who did not want to be parted from each other. They took to us straight away because we spoke like them. They stopped with us for about six months

The end of this bloody war was getting nearer and the undercurrent of excitement that everyone felt was a feeling that had no words to describe it.

When Victory in Europe was declared the celebrations went on for days.

The ban on the blackout was lifted it was wonderful to be able to see at night where you were going and lights were turned on just for the sheer pleasure of lighting up the streets.

We had double British summer time during the war. This meant the nights stayed lighter and it was very often light at midnight.

It played havoc with the body clock though and I very often wondered how the animals went on especially the cows at milking time.

I feel honoured to have lived through the Second World War and if any one were to ask me if I would rather be a youngster today I would answer very emphatically "definitely not".

Chapter Nine

THE TRAIN JOURNEY

In August of 1944 I left school at the age of 14 to go into printing, I was only there three weeks when there was a shortage of paper. We had to look busy doing something when the owner did his rounds and unfortunately I had been to the toilet and the boss was just walking in.

He said to me because I was a newcomer and the youngest working there ( I use that phrase loosely ) ,“Well while you are waiting for delivery you can go and clean the toilets out” I have to say here that by this time I had grown into a cheeky b*****r who would not take any crap from anyone. I think I had caught the speak up for yourself bug off my mother. I remember turning to him with my hands on my hips saying “I came here to learn the printing trade not to clean bloody toilets” With that I got my coat and went home. I went to the Labour Exchange next day and told them that the job was not much good because we were standing around waiting for deliveries.

I finished up in at Towles hosiery factory transferring the logo on the foot of the socks and lisle stockings. This involved pressing the logo on with a red hot iron without scorching the socks or stockings. I got up to the speed of 180 dozen pairs a day. A dozen to the hosiery trade was 24 socks to one dozen. That amounted to lifting the iron which were extremely heavy weighing about 4lbs for 4,320 times each day. We had just ten minutes break in the morning and the same in the afternoon. Hours of work were 7-30am till 12-30pm half an hour for lunch then back to work from 1pm until 6pm each day. A ten hour day but with Saturday morning added it was a 55 hour week.

Saturday morning was a must, it wasn’t voluntary . It came into the working week.
It was extremely hard work with minimal pay. I was there for nearly two years and I had gained muscles on top of muscles with lifting that iron all the thousands of times a week.

During 1945 I met Cliff who was then 17 and although it was NOT love at first sight he seemed to cotton on to me because according to him I was different to other girls.
My first impression of him was of a red haired very fair skinned skinny bloke who reminded me very much of a Swan Vesta match..

He said he had never met a girl who was not frightened of anyone and who spoke her mind.

It did not get serious between us because I knew that I would be going back to London at sometime or other and he would be called up to do his two years National Service. When he was called up in 1946 we made a vague promise to get together when he had finished his time in the R.A,F. We did get together while he was still in the forces and after I moved back to London.

It was also in 1946 when my eldest brother was demobbed from the R.A.F. He had been in since 1940 and had been in Burma fighting the Japs. He came back a changed man.
I was staggered when he put all his gratuity money on a horse running in the St Leger called Airborne. It came in first at 66-1.

That was a fortune in those days especially with all his gratuity being put on it. Unfortunately it was gone by the time we moved back to London with the drinking habit that he had acquired. He wanted to make up for lost years and to wipe the memory of his mates screaming as they died in agony. I found out a lot of what he went through by the nightmares he had and calling out in his sleep. It was not a nice thing to hear but he did not know he was doing it. He had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide when he tried to settle in civvy street. He was very difficult to live with.

In 1947 my mother had word from the London County Council that they had a house for her to come back to. My father was already back in London living in one room in a boarding house because if he had not gone back to the dock's within a certain time he would have lost the little bit of pension that he had worked hard for all his life.

My mother decided to catch the midnight train so that we could be at the Council Offices to pick up the key to go and have a look at the house. I was told that she wanted me with her. I was working by this time but I had to take time off and lose money although wages then were no where near as good as they are today. Even if I did lose two days work I still had to pay my board. It was 15s/- a week then or in today's currency would be 75p. I only earned £1 10s/- or £1-50p a week so that meant half my wages gone.

I told her if I went with her she would have to pay the train fare. She said yes so I deigned to accompany her.

Before we set out she told me to carry a bag similar to a small holdall and not to let it out of my sight. I assumed it held a flask of tea and some sandwiches of dripping for when we got to our destination.

We arrived at the station at the correct time to be told the train was running late due to the ice and snow on the lines. This was the extremely bad winter of 1947. We have NEVER had one as bad as that winter since then. Snow was falling for weeks and double decker buses were having to be dug out of 30 ft snow drifts. Electric cut off due to various cables being disabled with the severe weather conditions. Water was frozen solid and so were the streams. Folk were queuing up for a bag of coke to keep the fires going and on top of all that we were still on rations. WHO could forget that winter.?

Anyway to get back to the story. Many folk were waiting for that train. Some were service men and women going for de-mob others were trying to get home for leave and others were just commuting to London on business I should imagine.

The train duly arrived at 1-10am and we all piled on. I say piled on because it was already full to the brim with passengers. Oh Boy ! This was going to be some journey. For starters there were NO lights. Folk were sitting in the corridors and if any one wanted the loo it was climbing over folk to get to it after finding their way with lighters or matches and torches.

There was no heat in the train, the only heat was from someone's lighter when it was lit. My mother and myself had to sit on the floor in the corridor because there was no where else so we had to make the best of it. I was guarding the holdall as if it had the Crown Jewels in it. In a way to my reckoning at that time of my life food was my consolation for many things although I was not an overweight person.

The journey should have taken us 3 and a 1/4 hours but with stopping every so often we finally arrived in St Pancras Station at 6-15am. By this time I was tired and ruddy irritable and badly wanted a cup of tea and a bite to eat. The platform filled up very quickly with folks wanting to get to their destination as I stood waiting for my mother while she scrabbled in her handbag for something.

By the time she found what she was looking for most of the passengers had gone. We walked towards the exit but we had to pass the train drivers box. The driver was still in it seeing to his engine and my mother went to him and shouted above the hiss of the steam "Here you are me old cock sparrow. Get yourself a drink on me for getting us here safe and sound!" She handed him half a crown or 2s/6d that would be roughly 25p in today's coinage. The train driver said "Gawd Bless yer Mrs! I have worked on the railway for 30 years and that's the first time any one has done that."

I stood looking on and I can remember feeling embarrassed but at the same time I felt very proud of her. The half a crown was worth quite a bit of money then and although it may sound piffling to the reader it was hard earned and it could buy quite a bit in those far off days.

When we got out of the station an all night cafe was open and we went in there for a hot cup of tea and a scrambled egg on toast. I felt in a better mood after that although I felt grubby.

We caught the bus over to Southwark to the council offices and picked up the keys to a house in Peckham. When we got there and I looked up at the house my heart sank it was three storeys high. As I was the one that did most of the housework I was none too pleased at the prospect of more rooms to clean. Anyway we let ourselves in to look round and found that it had no bathroom which was the norm for those days. It had a very long passage-way with the front room leading off it and a kitchen as we called the eating place then plus a scullery right at the end of the passage. The stairs led off the passage way to two flights of stairs which led up to four bedrooms.

It was rather similar to the house we had when my mother had the accident with her finger.

It was bitterly cold in the house and my mother was upstairs investigating. I had put the hold-all down in the front room and decided it was time we had a cup of tea in hopes that it was still hot. I opened the bag and I could have screamed at the top of my voice at the sight that I had carted for all those miles. A bag that contained a lump of coal about 12inches wide by 6inches deep some dry bread and a packet of salt.

I was SO angry I went to the foot of the stairs and shouted to my mother "What the heck have I carted this coal, bread and salt all this way for? I wanted a drink but this is in the bag instead." I felt as though I could have brained my mother in that instance. No wonder my father used to get his hair off with her.