Merely Players A stor y of the Twentieth Centur y
A memoir of my parents, David and Gladys
Margaret A. Ford
Merely Players A story of the Twentieth Century
A memoir of my parents, David and Gladys
Margaret A. Ford
To my husband Jim, without whose constant encouragement and help (not forgetting a certain amount of nagging), this book would never have been completed.
Margaret A. Ford
Merely Players A story of the Twentieth Century
All the world’s a stage And all the men and women merely players They have their exits and their entrances And one man in his time plays many parts (William Shakespeare, As You Like It)
MEMOIRS Cirencester
Published by Memoirs
Memoirs Books 25 Market Place, Cirencester, Gloucestershire, GL7 2NX info@memoirsbooks.co.uk www.memoirspublishing.com
Copyright ŠMargaret A Ford, December 2011 First published in England, December 2011 Book jacket design Ray Lipscombe
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of Memoirs.
Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct when going to press, we do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. The views expressed in this book are purely the author‘s.
Printed in England ISBN: 9781908223937
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following for their help in preparing this book. My sisters, Mary and Lynette, and the many other relatives who contributed their memories. Those who kindly read the book in its various stages. The staff at the Bruce Castle Museum and Archives, Wood Green, North London, the Metropolitan Archives, London, the National Archives, Kew, London and the Wirral Archives, Birkenhead, Wirral.
CONTENTS Introduction Preface
Part 1: Gladys Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Family Tree 1907 Beginnings War breaks out: 1914-1918 Growing up: 1919-1928 Family Tree 1928 The Nurse: 1928-1932
Page 1 Page 12 Page 24 Page 27 Page 33
Part 2: David Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter
5 6 7 8 9 10
Family Tree 1903 The Wilkies: 1829-1903 David’s boyhood: 1903-1913 Growing up: 1914-1918 Changes: 1918-1927 Around the country: 1928-1932 Courtship: 1932-1936
Page Page Page Page Page Page
39 43 48 53 59 64
Part 3: David and Gladys Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter
11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
Family Tree 1936 The wedding and afterwards: 1936-1938 The Wirral: 1938-1939 War once again: 1939-1945 The austerity years: 1945-1949 Into the 1950s: 1949-1956 A new home: 1956-1957 Moving on: 1957-1961 Births, marriages and deaths: 1962-1968 After Clatterbridge: 1968-1975 The final decade: 1976-1986 Postscript
Page 71 Page 78 Page 87 Page 101 Page 119 Page 134 Page 141 Page 150 Page 160 Page 171 Page 181
Introduction
After my mother died in 1986 the family documents and photographs were entrusted to my care, but it was not until twenty years later that I found the time to study them properly. Two things struck me; first, the strikingly different circumstances of my parents’ childhoods in London and Edinburgh respectively, and second, what a century they had both lived through! In their lifetimes David Wilkie and Gladys (née Salmon), both born in the early years of the twentieth century, experienced unimaginable developments in living conditions and transport and communication systems, as well as two world wars, plus the ‘Cold War’ and the Great Depression. Meanwhile, the thirty years David spent working in the same hospital covered its transformation from a recently-converted workhouse, the difficult war years, the introduction of the National Health Service and the early days of its development into a modern general hospital and specialist cancer treatment centre on an enlarged site. Back in 1901, on Queen Victoria’s death, Edward VII had become King of Great Britain and its vast overseas empire. The British Navy ruled the waves and Britons held their heads with pride all over the world. For decades the nation had concentrated on extending and consolidating its empire, keeping out of European politics through much of Victoria’s reign, but the government of the day now felt it could no longer maintain this neutrality. A recently-united Germany, led by Emperor Wilhelm, Edward VII’s nephew, was already powerful and growing ever more ambitious. Germany particularly wanted to challenge Britain’s naval supremacy.
INTRODUCTION
France and Russia were also powerful states which, like Germany and Britain, had interests in both European and African countries, while in South East Europe the Austro-Hungarian Empire formed yet another power block. In 1904, worried by the evercloser alliances between European countries, Britain joined with its traditional enemy, France, in the Entente Cordiale, a friendship and cooperation agreement. Three years later Russia joined them in the Triple Entente. Journeys to other countries at that time were always by sea, as air transport was not available to most people. Most people would have laughed out loud at the suggestion that one day men would walk on the moon. At home there were the same transport issues which are so familiar to us today. Road traffic was increasing so fast that as early as 1903, the year David was born, a Royal Commission was set up to look at ways of controlling the congestion on the overcrowded London roads. Other big cities faced similar problems. 1903 was also the year the Ford Motor Company sold its first vehicle, after which the private car became increasingly accessible, popular and fashionable. There were still many horse-drawn vehicles on city roads; there were the smart carriages of the wealthy as well as hansom cabs (taxis) for public use. Coalmen and other traders needed strong, heavy carthorses to pull their carts along the busy streets. The new petroldriven buses and electrically-powered trams, which needed their own tracks, added to the general congestion. Tram journeys, at one old penny per mile, were popular with many of the poorer people. Steam rail travel was already well established and reasonably priced, and the first electric London Underground train went into service in 1904. Easier mobility had far-reaching effects. People could visit friends and relatives in other parts of the country more easily and live further away from their work, which led to the development of city suburbs.
INTRODUCTION
Exciting technological developments were not confined to transport. While it would be a long time before most families had a wireless (radio) of their own at home, the use of radio was being developed fast. In those days before everyone had access to radios, let alone televisions or computers, national and local newspapers flourished. Personal communication was by letter or, in emergency, by telegram. Although Alexander Graham Bell had invented the telephone in 1875, it was decades after that before it became commonplace in people’s homes. Houses were cold and central heating virtually unknown. Kitchens lacked fridges, freezers, washing machines, dishwashers and countless other modern amenities. Electric power was only for the wealthy; poorer people used oil lamps or candles for lighting and gas, or the fire, for cooking. Many homes in that first decade of the century still had neither gas nor electricity. There were of course no supermarkets. Bakers, butchers, grocers, greengrocers, drapers and chandlers filled the high streets and, without fridges or freezers, women shopped every day except Sunday, when all the shops were closed. Food was mostly fresh and eaten only when in season; strawberries in December and tomatoes in January were undreamed of. Unemployment was relatively high, and there was a huge difference in living standards between the rich and the poor. While some people were making millions out of trade and the empire, living in fine houses and employing many servants, far more were desperately poor and living in miserable conditions. On the other hand, towns and cities had public parks and green spaces, many of them huge, created for recreation. Some had lakes, cricket grounds, playgrounds, even funfairs and race tracks, making them delightful places, especially for families. As the century progressed, the role of women was to undergo
INTRODUCTION
enormous change. At first married women usually stayed at home, while their husbands went out to earn money. Unmarried girls and women were mostly employed as servants in middle and upperclass families. Women were not yet allowed to vote in elections, so in the first decade of the century a determined group, the Suffragettes, was formed. It demanded that women’s opinions should not only be heard, but should count. Children’s general health was of concern, the main issues being malnourishment, the high incidence of illness and epidemics of infectious diseases, like diphtheria, scarlet fever and measles, which killed many. Visits to or from the doctor had to be paid for, so poorer mothers waited until they were sure the case was serious. Politically, Britain’s government swung as now between two main political parties, then the Conservatives and the Liberals. The Labour Representation Committee (forerunner of the Labour Party) was formed by Ramsey MacDonald in 1900. The story which follows is a double one, relating the lives of David and Gladys. Each story has triumph and tragedy, success and reversal of fortune. We shall first meet them, briefly, at the defining moment of their lives.
Margaret A. Ford Harborne, Birmingham, October 2011
PREFACE Broomfield Parish Church, Essex, September 12 1936
David sat in the front pew of the small country church, his brother beside him. The September sun shone through the lancet windows, lighting the cool interior, and the lilies beside the pulpit filled the air with their sweetness. Behind them, a low murmur of conversation was heard. There was an air of happy anticipation. Yet David was not at peace with himself. His emotions were in turmoil at the life-changing step he was about to take. At 33 he was a successful professional man and had been independent for a long time, yet he was nevertheless acutely aware of his mother sitting silently behind him. She had depended on him for financial support over the past eight years, and she was unable to forget her disappointment and disapproval of his choice of bride. Was she right, David wondered? Perhaps he was about to make the worst mistake of his life. It was certainly true, as his mother had said, that he and his bride had little in common. They differed in class, education, personality, even, in her view, in nationality. But did all that matter? Unbidden doubts slid into his mind, as did the thought of the dreaded reception, which was to take place in, of all places, the local pub. He had never been an enthusiastic party-goer, and he had long ago promised himself that he would abstain for life from drinking alcohol. Panic threatened to engulf him, but at that moment there was a
stir at the back of the church and the sound of voices. The bridesmaids had arrived. Just moments later came another bustle from the back of the church and the opening notes of the famous bridal march rang triumphantly out. David’s heart lurched. His brother nudged him encouragingly and they both stood up. Lump in throat, clammy-handed, David moved to his place at the top of the aisle to await his bride. As the melody swelled, he turned to look at her. And there she was, walking towards him, holding her father’s arm, her slender figure sheathed in white, her dark hair held in place by her veil, happy, smiling and proud – Gladys.
5 others
Lucy Louisa b1872 m John Anson
m
Edith b1887
Sarah Emmons b1854
Mary b1880 m James Loker
John Salmon b1849
Gladys b1907 Edmonton, London
Nell b1881
Kate b1897
(Aunt Ruth)
Ruth b1881
m Sarah Rogers b1839
2)Alice b1879
Alice b1888
John Smith m 1)Ann b1861 b1859 d1902
Luke Merryweather b1830
5 brothers 1879-1895
8 other 1860-1884
(all born in Sedgehill or Semley Wiltshire)
Ernest m Mabel b1886 b1885
(all born near Southend-on-sea Essex)
GLADYS’ FAMILY TREE – 1907
Part 1
GLADYS Chapter 1
Beginnings Gladys was born on February 19th 1907. Her parents, Ernest Salmon and Mabel Smith, had first met by chance in London on a cold December evening in 1905. At that time Ernest was a young soldier on leave and Mabel a country girl who had come to London to find a more exciting life than her home county of Wiltshire could offer. Ernest had joined the army in the spring of 1904, some eighteen months before their meeting. Born in North Benfleet, Essex, in January 1885, he was the seventh of nine children. During his childhood the Salmon family had moved from village to village in the Southend-on-Sea area, following his father’s work as a thatcher. After leaving school, Ernest helped his father make hay shards for the roofs, but in time he tired of this, wanting a livelier occupation. He found this in a local builder’s yard. The work there was more varied, and among the employees was an old school friend, Horace Ebbs. When the two young men reached the age of nineteen, they left the builder’s yard to enlist in the Royal Garrison Artillery at the nearby Shoebury barracks, and here in the army Ernest found
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the adventure he craved. He wore his distinctive uniform with great pride. Gladys’ mother, Mabel Mary Smith, was born one year after Ernest in Sedgehill, a hamlet in Wiltshire, not far from the town of Shaftesbury across the border in Dorset. Like Ernest she had eight siblings, in her case, five brothers and three sisters. Mabel was the fourth child. Her father was a farm labourer and at the time of Mabel’s meeting with Ernest, a widower. When she left school, like most of the village girls, Mabel went into service. Her first job was as a general household help for a farmer and his wife who lived a few miles away. They treated the young Mabel kindly, the wife even bringing her a cup of tea in bed in the early morning. Nevertheless, when the wife of the local squire required a kitchen maid, Mabel applied and was given the post. While there she caught the eye of the squire’s son, who told her one day that she was a pretty girl and he would like to kiss her. Mabel who, like Ernest, had tired of the quiet country life, rebuffed him and started looking for jobs in bigger places. A photograph showing seventeen-year-old Mabel wearing her best lace blouse was taken by a photographer in Fareham, Hampshire, where she had relatives living. Whether she was visiting them or was working there, we don’t know, but we do know that by 1905 she had achieved her ambition of obtaining a post in London. One frosty December day that year, she had spent her afternoon off in town shopping and as dusk fell she was returning to her work place in Edmonton, north London. Ernest had come to London to visit his sisters, but had lost his way. He saw Mabel and asked if she could help. She said she could. The road he wanted was not far from her employers’ house, so they walked there together, chatting companionably. Before they parted, Ernest asked if he could call on her.
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All too soon, the nineteen-year-old Mabel had fallen in love with the handsome young soldier who told such stirring tales of his adventures. He visited her when on leave and wrote to her when away. He courted her through the winter, spring and summer of 1906. That August, Mabel discovered that she was expecting his baby. What should she do? She did not want to leave London and return to the quiet life of the country. She did want to marry Ernest. He loved her too, but was torn between his love for Mabel and his love of his army life. His sisters, Louisa, Mary and Edith, on hearing of the predicament, knew at once what should happen. Their brother must do the honourable thing and marry Mabel. He could leave the army when his three-year term ended in the middle of the following year. That is what happened. Ernest was transferred to a clerk’s job, still in the army but in London. The couple found lodgings and set up home together. In October 1906, Ernest and Mabel were married in Edmonton parish church in North London. It was a very quiet wedding, with few guests. Louisa, Mary and Edith were the only family members present. Ernest was twenty-one, so he was legally allowed to marry without parental permission. Mabel was only twenty, but to save a long journey home to Wiltshire to get her father’s permission she told the priest she was already twenty-one. After their wedding, Mabel kept house in Edmonton while she awaited the birth of the baby. She was no longer employed and soldiers’ pay was low while rents were high, so money was in short supply. However Mabel had grown up in a large, poor family, so she knew how to manage. She shopped carefully, washed, ironed, sewed baby clothes, cleaned the house and then, one chilly Tuesday in February, produced her child with a minimum of fuss. Having five younger siblings, Mabel knew how to care for a baby.
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Both she and Ernest, who was granted leave, were delighted with their new daughter. They named her Gladys Mabel, the second name after her mother. The grown-up Gladys disliked her name intensely. ‘You must have found Gladys on a tombstone!’ she said to her mother. ‘And why Mabel? Why not your other name, Mary?’ When Gladys was just a few months old, Ernest completed his three years army service, although he was not completely discharged. For the next seven years he was a reservist, which meant that in the event of war he would have to fight. He said a sad goodbye to army life and started the hunt for work, not easy at that time of high unemployment. Mabel continued to run the household, carrying the baby everywhere as they could not afford to buy a pram. Then, when Gladys was just nine months old, came the blow. Mabel realised she was pregnant again. A pram was now essential, and she finally got one, paying for it in instalments of two shillings a week, a huge sum for her to find from her weekly allowance. The change from independent soldier to unemployed husband, with the responsibility for a wife, child and soon another baby, weighed ever more heavily on Ernest, until one day he simply did not come home. Mabel did not know where he was, nor whether he would ever return. Supported by Louisa and Mary, who lived close by, she struggled on alone until the following May, when she gave birth prematurely to twins, a boy and a girl. The baby boy died within hours of his birth. The tiny girl survived a few days before she too died. Gladys was still only fifteen months old. Louisa, Mary and the neighbours rallied round until one day, as suddenly as he had left, Ernest returned. Where he had been he never told Mabel, but it seems he had found work as a tram conductor in Wood Green, a nearby suburb. The new job allowed him plenty of activity and fresh air, he had charge of his passengers
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and, importantly for Ernest, he wore a smart uniform. For practical reasons the family now left Edmonton and moved to Wood Green, where two more daughters, Eileen and Milly, were born in 1909 and 1911. Though she now lived further away, Mabel still often visited Louisa and Mary in Edmonton. From the time the children were very small, they walked with their mother over the ‘brickfields’ which lay between Wood Green and Edmonton to visit their aunts. Today it seems a long way for small children, but the Salmon girls were used to walking and looked forward to seeing their cousins. Louisa and her husband Jack had a daughter, Winifred (Win), just a few months older than Gladys. Their last child, Nora, was born in 1914. Ernest’s younger sister, Edith, was sometimes able to visit the family in Wood Green, as she was fond of her brother and her small nieces. At the end of her schooldays she had been employed as a pupil teacher, but now, though she still lived at home with her parents in Essex, she worked as a secretary in London, travelling up by train every day. Such independent activity was unusual for women at that time. Looking back at her life many years later, Edith said, ‘My friend Eva and I were considered ‘fast’. People didn’t think it respectable for young women to travel alone and have office jobs as we had, but we didn’t care what people thought. We were just determined not to go into service.’ Mabel, too, had relatives living in London. Her aunt, Ruth Merryweather, who was a mere five years older than Mabel, had also been in service in London. In 1909 she married Charles Patmore and they lived in Kensington. Mabel was delighted when their first child, Alice, was born the following year, as she and Ruth were close, so there was much to-ing and fro-ing between the two houses. Wood Green, where Gladys spent her childhood, had been a
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village not so long before, but now London had spread and the village had become a suburb, centred on the High Street with its shops and pubs, library, parish church and, from 1910, a cinema. It was a busy, bustling place; on the roads were loaded carts with men calling to their horses, delivery boys on their bikes with big baskets in front, as well as the buses, the new electric trams and an ever-increasing number of cars. Always there were women and children about; many of them were housewives or servants from the big houses, as people then went shopping every day. Gladys and her sisters soon knew their way about and even as small children ran errands for their mother or went out on their own. The children always looked at the trams in case they were lucky enough to see their dad. In 1910, when Gladys was three and her sister Eileen one, the king died. The funeral was conducted with great ceremony and heads of state from all over Europe sent wreaths and attended the event. The government decided that four wreaths should be placed on the coffin. One was to be from the new king, George V, one from the House of Commons and one from the House of Lords but whose should be the fourth? Ironically, the last wreath laid on the coffin was that sent by the King’s nephew, Wilhelm, Emperor (Kaiser) of Germany. George V was crowned on June 22 of the following year, 1911. Though the family relationship was strained following an ugly incident between the Germans and Britain’s ally, France, just three months earlier in Morocco, Kaiser Wilhelm attended the coronation. It was a hot, hot summer and celebrations took place throughout the land. The Salmon family had recently moved to a house with a lower rent in Meads Road, Noel Park, so Mabel, busy with her three-week-old baby in addition to Gladys and Eileen, took little part in the festivities.
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This relatively new estate contained four types of houses. Ernest and Mabel rented one of the simplest. It had a porch and a front door leading to a small hall. Downstairs were a parlour, a kitchen and a tiny scullery at the back. The rarely-used parlour had a fireplace with a marble mantelpiece and the kitchen had a copper for boiling water in. They had cold running water from a tap in the scullery, but neither gas nor electricity. To keep warm in the winter, Mabel bought coal and lit a fire in the kitchen, but only very rarely in the parlour. At night when it was dark she lit candles or, if she had enough money to buy paraffin, lamps. Gladys was terrified of the dark, but her mother did not allow her a candle upstairs, so the little girl had to endure her dread every night. In later life, Gladys never forgot that fear and made sure her own children were allowed a dim light in the bedroom if they needed it. Outside, behind the house, lay a small garden with an outside toilet (the ‘privy’), and upstairs were two bedrooms. When Mabel bathed the children, she heated water in the copper, brought the big tin bath into the kitchen and filled it. Then in went the girls, usually followed by their parents. Noel Park was a pleasant place to live in, but once again the rent proved too high, so after two years the family moved again, this time to a flat in Granville Road, just outside the estate. From the outside, the house looked rather like the previous one, but with two front doors for the two flats. The Salmons lived downstairs, the Racher family upstairs. There was still a small back garden, but the living accommodation was much more cramped. While she had been in service Mabel had spent most of her two weeks’ annual holiday with her family in Wiltshire. Now, thanks to relatively cheap train fares, the family still went on holiday in August, usually to visit the Salmon relatives in Essex, but occasionally to the Smiths in Sedgehill.
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Whether they were spent at the seaside in Essex or deep in the Wiltshire countryside, the holidays made a complete contrast to the town life of the rest of the year and the children loved it. They had fun playing with their many cousins, both older and younger than themselves – by the time Gladys was grown up she had no fewer than 61 first cousins. One especially memorable visit to Wiltshire took place in the early autumn of 1912, when Gladys travelled with her parents and sisters to Sedgehill for the wedding of Mabel’s sister, Alice. Gladys, aged five, felt proud and important. She was the flower girl and, unlike her small sisters and other younger girl cousins, wore a grown-up hat. It was a splendid occasion, in marked contrast to Mabel’s own wedding. The whole family was present and to mark the event Grandfather Smith had a photograph taken in front of Rose Cottage, where he was living in at the time. White-haired Grandfather Smith stands behind the bride, surrounded by his second wife, his nine children, some with husbands or wives, his grandchildren, his mother and his mother-in-law. Gladys, hat on of course, sits in the middle of the front row, while her mother holds Milly on her lap and Eileen sits on the small chair beside them. Ernest stands on Grandfather’s right. Mabel’s sisters, Nell and Kate, of whom we will hear more, are the bridesmaids in the front row. Not long before the wedding, Gladys had started school in Wood Green. She would walk to Lordship Lane Infant School with John Dunn, one of the neighbourhood children, who was some eighteen months older than herself. The children got to school at nine o’clock in the morning, returned home at twelve for their dinner, as all the children did, and then walked back again for afternoon school at two o’clock. John kept marbles in his pocket and the gutter at the side of the street made a fine alley to play on, as long
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as you avoided the drains. He and Gladys enjoyed many a game on their twice-daily journeys to and from school. How often they were late for school is not recorded. The newly-built school had a large, airy infants’ room with high windows and a peaked church-style roof. Shiny bright green tiles covered the lower walls (still in very good condition today, more than a hundred years on). Gladys liked school and quickly proved herself an apt pupil. For school, she wore her dark school dress with a white pinafore over it. On her legs she wore the hated black stockings knitted by Aunt Louisa, who knitted for all three Salmon sisters as well as for her own daughters, Winifred and Nora. The wool Aunt Louisa used was actually very dark green, which looked black until, after much washing, the stockings developed an unmistakable green tinge. By then, the holes in the heels could no longer be darned or the feet of the wearer had grown, so the indefatigable Aunt Louisa simply knitted new feet – black – which were then sewn to the greenish legs. How the girls detested their hybrid stockings! As a very small girl, Aunt Louisa’s younger daughter Nora developed a fascination for scissors. Her father, like Ernest, had a curled moustache of which he was very proud. He would wax it carefully to keep it in perfect shape, but one evening he fell asleep in his chair. Very carefully, because she knew scissors were dangerous, Nora cut off one half of the precious moustache. Sadly we have no record of his reaction when he discovered her crime. Her mother’s best hat, of which she was very proud, had once sported a splendid bunch of artificial cherries, and these went the same way. One day while Gladys was at school, four-year-old Eileen and toddler Milly, who was in her pram, disappeared. Panic-stricken, Mabel hurried out to look for them. Neighbours joined in the
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search, but the children were nowhere to be seen. Time passed. Ernest would not be home for hours. What should she do? As Mabel became more and more agitated, suddenly the welcome sight of a short plump figure, tiredly pushing a pram, came into view. It was Eileen. ‘Where have you been?’ her mother demanded. ‘Up the ‘teps and down the ‘teps’ came the proud answer. Unbelievably, the four-year-old had somehow pushed and dragged the pram over the railway bridge to the park without mishap. She had thought Milly would enjoy the outing, which she undoubtedly had. It was at this time that Mabel became pregnant again, but some four months into the pregnancy, when on her own in the flat with the younger children, she realised she was bleeding. She quickly sent little Eileen to fetch a neighbour, who helped and comforted Mabel as she endured a miscarriage, there and then on the kitchen floor. Since the coronation, the international situation had become more and more unstable. The major European nations, distrustful of each other, had built up armies and navies, while simultaneously each had strong interests in weaker states. Individual alliances abounded. In 1913, conflict arose in the Balkan States of South East Europe between Serbia and Austria. Russia was allied with Serbia, Britain with France and Austria with Germany. All were involved in the dispute. Though war was averted, catastrophe looked inevitable. In England throughout 1914, Ernest and Mabel, like most of the population, continued to believe that war, if it came, would be confined to Europe. The British newspaper headlines focused on the issue of home rule for Ireland rather that the deteriorating European situation. The far-away assassination of Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne, on June 28th was to provide the spark which lit the powder keg. Over the following six weeks, country after country declared war on one another. Finally, the Belgians
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called on the British to honour a long-ago promise to help them if they were attacked. The Germans did invade, and Britain, keeping her word, went to war. Ernest was determined to re-enlist in his old regiment at the first opportunity, even though he had just come to the end of his Reservist status. He and Mabel, knowing that he would soon be back in uniform fighting, made an appointment with a photographer. The children, understanding nothing of the reason for the photographs, were excited. First Mabel and Ernest got ready, and then the children’s best clothes came out; the white dresses their mother herself had made, black stockings and boots for Gladys and Eileen and white socks and slippers for Milly. Mabel brushed their hair carefully and tied their white ribbons. In the studio, the photographer took pictures of the parents, and then came the children’s turn. He positioned them to his liking, told them to keep very still and then disappeared under the black cloth covering his large box camera for what seemed like a very long time. We see them captured for all time; seven-year-old Gladys looking serious, three-year-old Milly not really knowing what was going on, and five-year-old Eileen trying hard not to giggle.
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Chapter 2
War breaks out 1914 - 1918 On Tuesday August 4th 1914, war was declared. All over Wood Green the newspaper vendors shouted excitedly ‘Great Britain at war with Germany! Great Britain at war with Germany!’ Distrust and hatred of the Germans had been growing for several years, so the news was greeted with jubilation. Throughout London groups of people formed excitedly in the streets, and the huge crowd which had gathered in front of Buckingham Palace cheered. People were determined to do their patriotic duty and hundreds of young and not-so-young men volunteered to enlist immediately. One of the latter was Ernest, now twenty-nine years old. As a recently released Reservist, he reported to his old regiment, the Royal Artillery, and was sent at once to Aldershot barracks, where he was medically examined, passed fit and kitted out. He then did some preliminary training before being sent to Southampton to embark. Within the space of twelve short days he had landed in Northern France as part of the British Expeditionary Force. Straight away, Ernest and his unit marched east towards the river Aisne, where they met and repelled a German force. They continued east towards Belgium and fought, again successfully, at the river Marne. The men were in positive mood, but by now the generals had realised that the German strategy was to lure the British force forward and then surround it.
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The British commander ordered the men to retreat. And what a retreat! Two hundred miles in thirteen days, and many of the soldiers were Reservists like Ernest, who had been doing civilian jobs. They marched, sometimes in their sleep, held up by their companions, until they reached their destination, filthy, exhausted and hungry. It had been impossible to get supplies quickly enough to the constantly-moving men. There had been no time for letters home. The first news Mabel received, strangely, was from her sister-in-law Louisa in Edmonton, where refugees from Belgium, women and children fleeing the invading German army, been brought in September. Louisa described their arrival to Mabel. ‘They were carrying what they’d managed to save from their homes and they were so shabby. Some of them were really old and the children! The poor little things were hanging on to their mothers and crying.’ Mabel, dismayed, wanted to know about the fighting, but Louisa had no details. From then on Mabel lived in fear for Ernest’s life. As the regular British army was small compared with Germany’s huge force, Lord Kitchener began a campaign to recruit a million volunteers. Posters bearing his photograph appeared everywhere, urging men to enlist. Thousands of men responded to this call, and parks were turned into training grounds for the new recruits, including the Wood Green park where Eileen had taken Milly for her pram ride. Immediately after the declaration of war, there were other changes in Wood Green. The daily shopping trip changed dramatically. Huge queues formed outside the local grocer’s as people started panic buying and stockpiling food. When too many people crowded into the shop the grocer would lock the door and let his customers in a few at a time. He might even close the shop while he and his
13
assistants cut and wrapped more butter, cheese and bacon from large slabs and weighed out sugar, tea and flour from sacks. Mabel, like other poorer housewives, could not afford to stock up, so she continued to shop a day at a time, knowing that what she needed might be sold out before it was her turn to be served. On the streets there were fewer trams and buses. Ernest had not been the only tram employee to leave his job immediately war was declared. Many others, as well as bus drivers and conductors, had done the same, and some of the buses were converted into ambulances or taken to Dover to bring home wounded men from France. For Gladys, Eileen and Milly, daily life went on much as usual, except for Ernest’s absence. Gladys, now seven, went to school every day with five-year-old Eileen, but no longer with John and his marbles. Gladys had finished her infant years and Lordship Lane Elementary School took boys only. In any case, since the family had moved to Granville Road, White Hart Lane School was nearer home. Gladys quickly made new friends, including Louisa Adams, a girl of her own age who lived nearby. After school, Gladys and Eileen played with Milly, helped their mother reluctantly with the chores, ate their tea and went to bed. Meanwhile, in France, the British Expeditionary Force had advanced eastward again, along with the horses which pulled the carts carrying the artillery’s heavy guns. In October the men started digging firing holes, which soon turned into the trenches they would occupy for so long. Back home in England, as autumn turned to winter, the women started knitting socks, waistcoats, scarves, gloves, for the men facing the cold. Seven-year-old Gladys knitted with the other girls and women, and even five-year-old Eileen was considered old enough to learn from their skilful mother.
14
Money, always in short supply, became even shorter. From the government Mabel received a ‘separation allowance’, eighteen shillings and sixpence (82p today) a week plus twelve shillings and sixpence for herself (62p) and two shillings (10p) for each of the children. Ernest, fighting in France and Belgium, was paid even less, seven shillings (35p) a week, so he could send very little home to Mabel. Within months, the prices of everything had risen. The flour needed to bake bread had gone up hugely; a loaf which had cost tuppence (2d) now cost threepence. In Gladys’ family, bread was an important part of their diet. They ate it for breakfast, had a hot meal (dinner) at midday, then bread again for tea, so as the war went on and prices got higher, they had less and less to eat. For dinner they usually, but not always, had small portions of meat or fish, with potatoes and vegetables. Gladys always hoped it would not be cabbage, which she hated, or even cauliflower with its daunting amount of stalk. ‘Can’t waste good stalk’ Mabel used to say as she dropped great chunks into the saucepan. The children were expected to clear their plates. Some days the head teacher came into the classroom, spoke quietly to their teacher, then left. The children knew what was coming and waited breathlessly to see which child would be told by the teacher he or she was to go home. Everyone knew that such a visit meant someone had received news of a death at the Front. As the eldest child, Gladys was expected to help her mother, and on occasion to be responsible for her younger sisters. Mabel began to take in washing to earn extra money. She delivered the clean garments to their owners on Saturday mornings, while Gladys was left in charge at home. During Mabel’s absence the girls’ job was to dust the ornaments, and on these occasions the sisters often
15
argued. Gladys, keen to exert her authority, liked to order Eileen about and, in her turn, Eileen teased their little sister. If Milly cried, panic struck. Her blotchy face would betray to their mother what had been going on, and that meant trouble for Gladys and Eileen. Later on, telling their own children about those mornings, they would laugh, remembering their frantic efforts to hold Milly’s face under the cold tap to get rid of the evidence before Mabel’s return. Early in 1915, just six days after her eighth birthday, an excited Gladys received a picture postcard from Ernest in France: Dear G. It was very bad of me not to remember your birthday, but better late than never. I hope you are a good girl and help Mummie with all the work. I hear you can ride in buses and trains and not be upset, so we must have some long rides when I come home. Dad xxx A second postcard followed in July: 5-7-15 Dear G. how are you getting along? I am wondering if you are away on your holidays yet. I was expecting a letter from Mummie last night, but it did not come in. I guess the holiday made some difference. Best love and kisses xxxxxxxxxxxx Dad The next postcard arrived in August; 24–8–16 Dear G Here is one more for your collection. Best love Dad The next in September; 16 Sept 1916 Dear G, What do you think of this one? You were going to write me a letter but I have not seen it yet. I guess I shall one of these days. I hope you are well. Best love xxxxxxxxDad The last postcard was enclosed in a letter to her mother, after which Gladys and Ernest corresponded by letter. Dear G, I am not sending a letter as you owe me one. Hurry up and write. Best love & kisses Dad xxxxxxxxxxx
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Gladys liked the pictures on her cards from the trenches so she kept them, but sadly she did not keep the letters. Ernest was not allowed to tell Mabel where he was, but the two of them devised a method of doing so. Each letter or postcard contained an apparently random letter of the alphabet. Put in sequence, the letters spelt out his location. Since the outbreak of war, the balance of the population had been subtly changing and by the middle of 1915 the difference was obvious to all. The younger men had disappeared, their jobs taken over by older men or women. Two of these women were Gladys’ aunts, her mother’s sisters, who had left Wiltshire and come to London. Nell, older than Mabel, had found work in a factory, making goggles for respirators, and now came to live with the family in Granville Road. Kate, at nineteen the youngest of the Smith family, found employment in a hotel in Marylebone and started training to be a cook. So there were now three of the Smith sisters, Mabel, Nell and Kate, living in London. Since her wedding the fourth sister, Alice, had lived on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent. The sisters had remained close, corresponding with each other and visiting when possible. After one visit to Alice, Nell returned to Granville Road whitefaced and shaken. While on the island, she had been raped by a sailor on leave there. Shocked, Mabel comforted her sister as best she could, promising her support in any eventuality. Through the next anxious weeks Nell worked as usual in the factory. Then what she had dreaded became reality. She was pregnant. In the April of the following year, 1916, she gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Vera. Gladys, Eileen and Milly, ignorant of the circumstances, were thrilled to have a baby in the house. Once Nell had recovered from the birth, she returned to her job while Mabel cared for the baby.
17
During that same year a new word entered Gladys’ vocabulary - Zeppelin. Zeppelins were airships, a bit like gigantic hot-air balloons, over 500 feet long. Now, for the first time, people experienced death and injury from the sky as bombs fell on people and buildings. Because of their size, it often looked as if a Zeppelin hovering in the sky above was right over a particular house when it was some distance away. As bombers they were not very efficient, not only because they were slow and cumbersome to manoeuvre but because their bombs often missed their targets. Instead they seemed to fall at random, killing whoever happened to be in the way, so their real effectiveness was as instruments of terror to the people beneath. Throughout 1916 they dropped their bombs on London and other parts of the country. People tried to help each other when they could, for example, by inviting passers-by into cellars to shelter. The Zeppelins came mostly at night, especially if there was no moonlight, so they could remain unseen by the British gunners for longer. One night in early September, Gladys and the rest of the family were fast asleep in bed when they were woken at about halfpast one by a thunderous noise. It was the guns at nearby Woolwich, firing furiously. The house was shaking. Terrified, the three girls dashed in to their mother who, though extremely frightened herself, remained outwardly calm. Nell was clutching her screaming baby. The Rachers from the flat above had rushed downstairs. While the children cowered at the back of the room, Mabel went cautiously to the window and peeped between the curtains. She saw the searchlights sweeping the night sky and a large Zeppelin, like a gigantic vulture, attacking Wood Green and Tottenham. The battle did not last long; the Zeppelin moved away and a short while later was shot down in flames over Cuffley to the north. Everyone in the street was awake and many adults went outside
18
half-dressed to meet their neighbours and talk about it all, cheering loudly when the night sky was lit up by the flames of the burning airship. Next morning the children’s excited chatter filled the school rooms as they relived the events of the previous night. Not long after this incident, Mabel and Nell were getting dressed in their bedroom early one morning when they were surprised by a knock at the front door. ‘See who it is, Eileen’ Mabel called. Moments later Eileen politely showed a soldier straight into their bedroom. He turned out to be Horace Ebbs, Ernest’s friend from his schooldays and now his companion in France. Ernest had encouraged his old friend to call upon Mabel in London, and had written to tell her, but Horace had arrived before Ernest’s letter. Once recovered from the surprise, and delighted to get first hand news of Ernest, Mabel made Horace welcome and introduced him to her three girls as well as to Nell and little Vera. It was a merry party which sat down to a meagre breakfast. Life in London was becoming more and more difficult. The winter of 1916-1917 was one of the coldest on record. Day after day it froze. Coal was in short supply and expensive. Mabel would light a small fire in the kitchen, but let it go out early in the evening when they all went to bed. It was a miserable time. The baby was so muffled up that they could hardly see her. The three girls shivered and their chilblains hurt. Mabel, worried about buying coal, her lack of money and the children, especially Gladys, always a thin child and now getting even thinner, never ceased to fear for Ernest as news of the terrible loss of life in Passchendaele reached home. The Salmons were not only cold but hungry. Britain had for many years relied on imported food to feed the population, but now German submarines were sinking merchant ship after
19
merchant ship full of food supplies, especially grain, sugar and meat, bound for England. At one point the country had only three days’ supply of grain. The shops ran out of provisions, the queues grew longer and longer and the people got angrier, until rioting broke out. Often, a policeman had to stand at the head of a queue to keep order. One day Mabel heard that the grocer had received a consignment of butter, so she sent ten-year-old Gladys out to buy some. Gladys waited patiently in the queue until she was finally served. Clutching her precious two ounces of butter, (55 grams), wrapped in greaseproof paper by the grocer, she tried to leave the overcrowded shop. She managed to squeeze her way through the scrum of customers, but in so doing the butter squeezed out of the paper and Gladys ran home, butterless and in tears. Disappointed, Mabel reacted philosophically. ‘Oh well, if we can’t have butter, we’ll just do without’ she said. The government had to act to prevent revolution. First it launched a concerted advertising campaign telling people to eat less of everything, particularly bread. Not so easy for the Salmons, as bread was such an important part of their daily diet. They didn’t have much to eat of other things either. The government then thought of a way to make the available wheat go further. On the 14th of March, bakers throughout the land received a letter telling them that they were to add potatoes to their bread recipe. They obeyed, reluctantly, but it was hard to mix in the slushy cooked potatoes and the resulting bread was heavy and full of chewy black bits, which nobody liked. The government told everyone that the new recipe was more nutritious, but the bakers, hitherto proud of their product, were outraged. In May 1917, Mabel along with every other householder in the country received a copy of the following letter:
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Ministry of Food, Grosvenor House W.1.
ON HIS MAJESTY’S SERVICE I wish to appeal for the immediate help of every man, woman and child in my effort to reduce the consumption of bread. We must all eat less food; especially we must all eat less bread and none of it must be wasted. The enemy is trying to take away our daily bread. He is sinking our wheat ships. If he succeeds in starving us, our soldiers will have died in vain. In the interests of our country, I call upon you all to deny yourselves, and so loyally to bridge over the anxious days between now and the harvest. Every man must deny himself; every mother, for she is the mistress of the home must see that her family makes its own sacrifice and that not a crust or crumb is wasted. By a strict care of our daily bread we can best help the men who are gallantly fighting on sea and land to achieve victory, and so share with them the joys of the peace which will follow. No true citizen, no patriotic man or woman will fail the country in this hour of need. I ask all the members of your household to pledge themselves to respond to the King’s recent appeal for economy and frugality and to wear the purple ribbon as a token.
29th May, 1917 - Food Controller To emphasize the message, posters appeared on hoardings everywhere with the message:
THE KITCHEN IS THE KEY TO VICTORY. EAT LESS BREAD.
21
By now the Zeppelins had largely disappeared, but their place as bombers had been taken by Gotha aeroplanes with their far more efficient targeting. Daylight raids were now common and the bombers more accurate. In June, a school not far away in East London was hit and eighteen children were killed. Mabel, though she was afraid for her children, did not keep them at home as many mothers did. The authorities were keen to warn people of an imminent raid, but lacked the technical expertise to introduce an efficient system, instead a policeman rode round the area on his bike, equipped with a notice round his neck ringing his bell and shouting out the warning as he rode. The notice read ‘POLICE NOTICE – TAKE COVER’. As autumn 1917 approached, the food situation improved, largely thanks to a good harvest. The government introduced coal rationing in London in case of another hard winter, and American soldiers were fighting with the Allies in Europe. After Christmas, people began cautiously to hope that the war really was going to end soon. The beginning of 1918 brought happy family news to Granville Road. In January, Ernest wrote to say he had been promoted from Sergeant to Second Lieutenant. An officer! With a batman – Horace Ebbs. How proud he was! And how proud Mabel was an officer’s wife! There was more joy in February when Horace married Nell in nearby Edmonton, and that same month Gladys, who had always done well at school, had her eleventh birthday and learned that she had been awarded a scholarship to Tottenham Grammar School. The government introduced food rationing in February 1918, so the queuing and jostling eased and, perhaps in response to the ceaseless campaigning by the suffragettes, or as thanks to the women who had worked so hard for the war effort, granted the vote to all women over the age of thirty.
22
However, that summer a deadly flu epidemic ravaged the nation, killing thousands of people. Fortunately the Salmon family escaped - or they seemed to have done. Gladys became ill, perhaps because of the epidemic. In any case, Mabel was worried enough to take her to the doctor, who sent her to hospital for further examination. The hospital doctor diagnosed a weak heart and prescribed rest and regular doses of cod liver oil. Whether it was he or Mabel who added port to the prescription, we do not know, but this mixture now became Gladys’ ‘special’, and how she hated it! There were no convenient easy-to-swallow capsules in those days, so she had to drink the oily, fishy, port-flavoured concoction every day. The new school term was to begin in September, so Mabel sat at her sewing machine and made her uniform and Gladys nervously started her secondary education, interrupted by the ban on any participation in physical education and her weekly hospital visit, which took place during her French lesson. On the continent the autumn dragged on, but at last it seemed the stalemate was really coming to an end. Finally, on the 11th November, the fighting stopped and the church bells rang out; the long-awaited Armistice Day had arrived. The country rejoiced, and Mabel and the girls looked forward eagerly to Ernest’s demobilisation and return home.
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Chapter 3
Growing Up 1919 - 1928 As the church bells rang out for Armistice Day, how the population rejoiced. But as in 1914, the cheers did not last long. Huge numbers of the returning soldiers could not find jobs, while those who had stayed at home were exhausted. During the war they had been united in their hatred of the Germans, but now that unity started to disintegrate. All over the country people demonstrated and went on strike. Even the police went on strike in Liverpool, and soldiers had to be brought in to control looters. It took almost two years before the last soldier was finally demobbed. During this time local councils everywhere built memorials to honour and remember those who had fought and died in the years of war. The memorials were dedicated in solemn ceremonies and the red poppy was used as a remembrance symbol. The most famous ceremony took place in London, when the body of an unknown soldier, representing all the anonymous dead, was brought back to London and laid in a coffin in Westminster Abbey, not far from the newly-built Cenotaph (empty tomb) in Whitehall. By the time the nameless solider was finally buried in November 1920, the poppies were growing again in the Flanders fields where Ernest and thousands of others had spent so much of their wartime service. From November 1918, Mabel, Gladys, Eileen and Milly waited
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impatiently in Granville Road for Ernest to come home. They were on their own again, as Nell, Horace and Vera had left London and were living in a tiny, primitive cottage in the village of Barling, near Southend in Essex. Christmas 1918 came and went and the weary months of 1919 dragged on. Food supplies remained so precarious that in September 1919 rationing was introduced for milk, butter, cheese, sugar, beef and mutton. Still Ernest waited for his discharge. He had arrived back in England, and was stationed at the Prees Heath training camp in Shropshire, to which many of the big guns he had fired during the war years had been brought. Although the fighting had stopped, Ernest was still sent over to France several times that year. The terms of the Armistice had made it possible for the fighting to start again if the Germans did not comply with its conditions. In the spring, Mabel was dismayed to discover that her unmarried youngest sister, twenty-three-year-old Kate, had become pregnant and was refusing to name the father. Eventually, after much questioning, she admitted that he was someone Mabel knew well; Uncle Charles, husband of Aunt Ruth. The family was devastated, but Mabel, though furious with Kate and Charles and extremely sorry for Ruth, was nevertheless prepared to help her sister with child care, as Kate both wanted and needed to keep working in the hotel. Charles would not leave Ruth and their children, and Kate’s baby, a girl named Evelyn, was born in November 1919. That same month, a whole year after the ending of the war, Ernest finally came home. But he had become a very different man from the one they had waved off in 1914. As he relived his trench experiences in his frequent nightmares, his screaming shattered the whole family’s sleep. By day, depressed and uncertain of temper,
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he occupied his days in a fruitless hunt for work. Very little money was coming in and Mabel’s preoccupation with Kate and her baby irritated him. Mabel’s realisation in March that she herself was pregnant almost drove Ernest from home for a second time. At that critical moment, however, he found a job, and it was one which suited him perfectly. For the next few years he was employed as a shopkeeper in a tobacconist and confectioner’s shop in Wood Green. In sole charge of his shop, he busied himself serving his customers and gradually recovered his health and spirits. Mabel’s child was to be born in the autumn, and Gladys, Eileen and Milly looked forward eagerly to having a baby of their own in the house. They did their best to help their mother, who felt ill and weighed down throughout the pregnancy. Convinced in her own mind that she was expecting twins, she was proved right on August 20th 1920, when she gave birth, once again prematurely, to two boys. Family finances and Ernest’s nerves were both equally precarious. Exhausted and despairing, Mabel lay in bed. Aunt Ruth, her sisters-in-law and neighbours rallied round as they had eleven years before, and Eileen, much later, vividly recalled the visit from the curate of the local church who, somewhat self-consciously, laid a precious shilling on the dresser before he left. Gladys, relieved at Ernest’s lifting spirits and excited by the birth of her brothers, had no inkling of how her own life was to be affected. The tiny twin boys survived, but the hitherto so capable Mabel recovered painfully slowly, and was totally unable to manage the babies and the household on her own. There seemed only one solution; Gladys, now thirteen and a half and about to start her third year at the grammar school, would have to stay at home and make herself useful. After all she had nearly reached the legal schoolleaving age of fourteen.
26
27
(living in London)
Gladys b1907
Milly b1911
George b1920
Jack b1920
Vera b1916
Nancy
Peter
(living in Kent)
(living in Essex)
Eileen b1909
(m Richard Tharp, July 1926)
(m Ben Smith 1912)
(m Horace Ebbs 1918)
(living in Essex)
(living in childr en’s home in London)
3 Others
(living with Nell, Horace and Vera in Barling Essex)
Victor Tharp b1926
(living in London)
Kate b1897
Alice b1888
Nell b1881
Ernest m Mabel b1886 b1885
GLADYS’ FAMILY TREE – 1928
CHAPTER THREE
Worried about her mother and the babies, Gladys agreed willingly. As the weeks stretched into months, she was kept busy caring for the tiny boys as well as shopping, cooking, and cleaning. She loved her little brothers dearly, relishing the responsibility entrusted to her and feeling important and useful. By December the twins, George and John (Jack), were thriving and Mabel was stronger. Perhaps remembering the friendly curate and his much-needed shilling, all five children were baptised together at St Michael and All Angels’ church in Wood Green. The following February on her fourteenth birthday, Gladys began to look for paid employment in order to add to the family finances. It was not a good time for a young unqualified girl to be looking for work. In that month the number of unemployed rose beyond a million, allowing her little choice of occupation, so she did a number of short-term domestic jobs. Later she found a job in a factory which made curtains and there she learned the art of machining long, straight lines, a skill which was to prove useful throughout her life. Though her daytime work was unexciting, Gladys, a sociable girl, still had fun with her friends in the evenings and at weekends. She joined the King’s Messengers, a youth group for teenagers run by St Michael and All Angels church, where she met up with her old school friends John Dunn (who no longer kept marbles in his pocket) and Louisa Adams. Later, Eileen and Milly also joined the group, and they started going to church on Sundays. Gladys also liked going to the cinema with her sisters, cousins or friends. It was popular and cheap, though the films were still silent, relying on the music played by the resident pianist, sometimes calm, sometimes dramatic, to emphasise the action on the screen. His services were needed until the ‘talkies’ arrived from America at the end of the decade.
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In the summer of that year, 1921, Mabel’s sister Kate became pregnant again. She was never persuaded to name her second little girl’s father, though the family suspected he was a local postman with whom Kate was in love. She wanted to marry him but he, like Charles, was married and would not leave his wife. Kate had found a woman who would look after her children as long as they were well. If they were ill, she simply brought them to her sister, who could always be relied on to help. On one frightening occasion, Mabel found herself propping up baby Iris, who had whooping cough, with pillows to enable her to breathe, while simultaneously keeping her own young twins away from the infection. George and Jack had become toddlers and their mischievous exploits caused their sisters endless amusement. Ernest and Mabel were very proud of their sons, as numerous snapshots and photographs taken by the photographer in Tottenham High Road show. There are no photographs of the girls! By now Gladys had applied for a job in the Post Office, for which she had to pass an exam. She was successful and started work, but found it neither demanding nor particularly interesting. More importantly, she was no longer as happy as she had been. From early childhood, as the eldest daughter, she had enjoyed being put in charge of her younger sisters, and in her father’s absence during the difficult war years Mabel had come to rely on her more and more. During her mother’s illness she had played an essential part in the family. Now, with both mother and father well again, she seemed to have lost her role. Eileen and Milly were growing up and could share many of her duties. In her eyes, from being an important somebody in the family, Gladys had become a nobody. Ambitious and clever, she began to realise what she had lost in leaving school. Recalling this time many years later, she said: ‘I was
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CHAPTER THREE
miserable in my teens, but I didn’t know how I could change things. I knew I didn’t want to do what I was doing, but I didn’t know what I did want to do. I felt lost.’ Gladys’ discontent at this time was shared by many. Since the end of the war there had been great social and political changes. Unresolved miners’ strikes had taken place in 1919 and 1920. High unemployment led to widespread poverty and, for those who were employed, working conditions were often appalling. As there were fewer exports and home demand was static, stocks of goods were too high and many employers wanted to decrease their workers’ pay. The inevitable dissatisfaction paved the way for a third coal strike in 1926, in which the miners asked other workers to join them. Over two million did so, resulting in Britain’s first (and so far only) General Strike, in May of that year. By then, the Salmons were no longer living in London. For some time there had been increasing tension between Ernest and Mabel. They rarely quarrelled openly, but there were terse exchanges and cold silences. Ernest frequently left the house without explanation. To Mabel’s fury, Kate had become pregnant for a third time, and the shattering truth finally emerged. This baby’s father was none other than Ernest himself! In the emotional aftermath of the affair, Ernest, like Uncle Charles and the postman before him, said he would not leave Mabel and his children, but one day, as he had done when Gladys was a baby, he disappeared. This was just before Kate gave birth to his son. For a second time, neither Mabel nor Kate nor anyone else knew where he had gone, nor whether he would ever return. Kate, realising she could expect no more help with childcare from Mabel, took her three children to a children’s home, where they spent the rest of their childhood. Many weeks later, Ernest returned. He had gone back to his
30
CHAPTER THREE
native Essex where he had settled his family’s future by renting a caravan from which he planned to sell fish and chips. Accordingly, in 1925, the Salmons left London for good and moved to Maldon in Essex. Gladys was eighteen, Eileen sixteen and Milly fourteen, and all were expected to find work. With even less opportunity for a choice of occupation than there had been in London, going into service was the only option for all three of them. Gladys found work in Southend-on-Sea, where she was employed as a live-in general domestic by a cantankerous old lady who treated her like a skivvy. How she hated it! It was immeasurably worse than any of her previous jobs. In London she had at least enjoyed the companionship of colleagues, and had had cousins and friends from schooldays living close by. Now she was stuck with a mean-spirited, miserable employer in a place where she knew nobody of her own age. Only two things lightened the gloom. The first was that Barling, the tiny village where Aunt Nell, Uncle Horace, Vera and now a young toddler, Victor lived, was easily accessible. Gladys had missed them when they had left London, but now she could visit them on her half day off. Victor was not Nell and Horace’s child. One day Nell had opened her cottage door to find her sister Kate holding her baby. ‘Please look after him for me’ said Kate. And Nell did. Victor was Kate’s fourth and last child. Some months after his birth she married his father, though Victor remained with Nell and Horace throughout his childhood. Ten-year-old Vera was delighted by the arrival of the baby. Up till then life in the cottage, without mains water, gas or electricity, had been hard work and dreary. As a girl, Vera had been expected from a young age to do her share of the work. Nell was not unkind to her daughter, but the two had never been close. The arrival of the baby boy, in Vera’s own words, ‘brought a bit of fun and laughter into the cottage.’
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The second good thing for Gladys was that Aunt Edith, Ernest’s sister, the one who had worked as a secretary in London during Gladys’ childhood, lived in Southend and welcomed having her niece nearby. Edith had carved out a successful career for herself in estate agency and perhaps it was she, realising how unhappy Gladys was, who encouraged her to aim for a profession; or perhaps Gladys herself remembered the pleasure of caring for Vera, her own small brothers and Kate’s daughters. We shall never know, but something at this time led Gladys to take what was to be a lifechanging decision. She would return to London to train as a nurse.
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Merely Players A stor y of the Twentieth Centur y
David Wilkie and Gladys Salmon were born in the early years of the 20th century at opposite ends of Britain and in widely differing social circumstances. After eventful early lives, they met in 1931 in a London hospital where they were both working. Romance followed, and the story continues with their subsequent move to the Wirral Peninsula in Cheshire, following David’s promotion to the post of Medical Superintendent in Clatterbridge hospital which had recently been converted from a workhouse. Against the backdrop of the often turbulent events of the 20th century, the book sets David’s and Gladys’ personal story in the context of the changing lifestyles of the middle and later decades until their deaths in 1985 and 1986 respectively.
)3".
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