Chapter 11: Big Sister

Since 1934, Gordon and Margaret had lived for several years in the end house in Edward Street. The dwellings had been condemned years earlier as being too damp and dilapidated for human habitation but moving there had been the first step of what is now called 'upward mobility'. Their first hovel, where Michael had been born, was in St. Thomas's Place. It had been much worse, with water running down the walls, and there was only one bedroom. Michael liked Edward Street, especially now he had his friend, Rob. They saw each other twice a week at Michael's.

Sometimes, Margaret went up to Williamson's Park, if the weather was good. The two boys played great adventure games there, exploring its fifty-four acres more and more widely, finding some of the secret places.

They had an ice-cream or a drink of fizzy pop after they'd finished their adventures. The mothers sat chatting on their usual seat. The two boys stayed apart on the grass. Rob said, "I think my Dad might be going to be a soldier."

"How do you know?"

"I heard him telling my Mam somebody had to stop the bugger. He said that he needed shooting and he was the man to do it."

Michael took another lick at his ice-cream then asked, "What's a bugger?"

"I think it's another name for a Franco."

Michael wondered why they never went into Rob's house. One day, when he was playing under the table, he heard his Mam say to his Dad, "It was pouring down today. We got caught in a really heavy shower but she couldn't let us in the house. Her husband won't have anybody indoors. I expect he has his reasons. It takes all kinds I suppose."

"Perhaps they haven't got a lot," said Gordon, "and they don't want you to see."

"I don't know about that," replied Margaret. "it's a great big posh house."

Margaret came from a very large gregarious family. Her mother had always welcomed people indoors.

Michael wondered what Rob's dad was like. Rob never said much about him or any of his family. He didn't speak about grandparents or aunts and uncles.

Michael had lots of relatives. Three of his father's aunts lived in Edward Street. They let him go in all of their houses. He liked going to Aunt Elsie's best.

All three were Nan's sisters-in-law. Like Nan, they were all war widows. Their husbands had died with Granddad Eli in France, in 1915 -- and they weren't the only war widows in Lancaster, by a long shot. Lots of that generation of women wore black, mourning their lost men for the rest of their lives. There were long columns of names on Lancaster War Memorial, in a little garden at the side of the Ashton Hall. One day, on their way to go and see Nan, Michael's Mam took him and pointed out the name of his Granddad Eli.

Despite their common tragedy, the three sisters had not bonded with little, fiery, red-headed Nan. They thought her bossy and a bit snooty.

Elsie said, "I don't know who she thinks she is. She's no better than us."

Margaret agreed, "I've tried but she's not easy to get on with."

Michael used to hear all sorts of things that grown-ups said, while he was playing on the floor with his soldiers or looking at his picture books. He liked it on the floor, on the cool lino. He was fascinated by the patterns which his Dad had helped to make at work. There were brown and beige variegated rectangles, all exactly the same size, fitting together like a perfect jig-saw puzzle.

The aunts were close allies with each other in adversity, including being against Nan, but they were not always in-and-out of each other's houses like some. It was only Aunt Elsie of the three who kept open-house and Margaret and Michael liked her the best.

"Hello love, Hello Michael. Sit yourselves down! I'm glad you've called in. I'll just put the kettle on. And we'll have a nice little chat. You have got a few minutes to spare love?"

Margaret always had time to spare. She'd have been disappointed if she hadn't been asked to stay.

Aunt Elsie was different from the other two aunts in lots of ways. For a start she'd married again, after the war. She had two children by her dead, soldier husband and two by Jim, her second. Jim drove one of the chocolate-and-cream coloured Lancaster buses.

Elsie's youngest child, Joan, was like a big sister to Michael. She was five years older than he was. When he was a baby, she liked to rock his pram, play with him on the rug in front of the fire, helped teach him to crawl, then to walk. Her patience was inexhaustible. She was a tall child with the red hair and greenish eyes which several of her family had. In her view, Michael could do no wrong. After Gwyn was born, she stayed faithful to Michael. She made a fuss of the new baby but Michael always came first.

Michael loved Joan's pretty, friendly gaze on him. He liked to watch her when she did things he could not do, like skipping, doing forward-rolls, keeping a spinning top going with a whip, turning the mangle handle without help, fetching the bucket filled with coal from the cellar. She was always calling at Margaret's, when she was not at school, and Margaret loved to see her.

Joan's mother, Aunt Elsie, had longish, lank, black hair, streaked with grey. She had grey eyes and pale cheeks. She dressed in black, wore a slack, formless frock , low-heeled shoes, woollen shawl, thick stockings. She was lame and carried a walking stick with her, or leaned on it when she was seated. She was friendly but rarely went out. Her world normally came to her. The older children, who still lived at home, did the shopping and most of the housework for her. She had a rocking-chair and spent most of her time sitting in it, warming herself by the fire and listening to her wireless.

She asked Margaret what she thought about the King abdicating. Margaret came from Wales where Edward had curried favour with the miners.

"I think it's a shame. They should have let him marry that woman he loves. He'd have made a good king."

"Blooming Fascist, that's what I think he is. Him and her! That woman of his, scrawny bitch, more like a fellah! She's worse than him. Both of them, always sucking round that Hitler. Wouldn't trust that pair as far as I can see them!"

"Oh!" replied Margaret. It was all beyond her.

Aunt Elsie was modern in her outlook. She was one of the first in the street to have a wireless and she read a lot, including the Daily Herald, a Labour Party newspaper, every day.
There had been a hefty insurance when her first husband was killed. She bought the house she lived in and was always trying to fight a losing battle against the jerry-built damp abode. That was how she'd damaged her leg, doing a bit of plastering all by herself.

She'd slipped off the step-ladder and badly-twisted her knee.

Although her buying of the property had been somewhat ill-advised she still kept on at Margaret to buy a house.

"Move heaven and earth and move out of that place you're in or you'll lose your little'un! She'll get pneumonia. Save every penny you can love, and buy a place of your own! Move to one of the nice new estates!" Michael wished people would not be for ever talking about moving. He loved it where he was.

Joan had told him that soon, the Corporation were going to turn the empty site, straight across from his house, into a children's playground. There would be a high slide and a roundabout to play on. Joan said boys and girls would come from all of the other streets nearby to play there and he'd meet lots of new friends.

"I'll take you over there," she promised. "It'll be really good. You and Rob will have it all to yourselves when the other children are at school."

"Will you let me go there, Mam?" asked Michael. You never could tell with his mother, what she might decide.

"I expect so love, but only if Joan takes you. It'll be alright if Joan is there to look after you."

"Told you so, didn't I? " laughed Joan. She was really good was Joan. She was always making things happen for him.

Web Links

• Lancaster War Memorial is located in a small Garden of Remembrance on the east side of the Town Hall. It was designed by Thomas Mawson and Sons and now commemorates the dead of both two world wars and other conflicts.  10 bronze panels at the rear record the names of 1,010 Lancastrians who fell in the First World War and were dedicated on 3rd December 1924.  The plinth in front of the statue carries the names of a further 300 who fell in 1939-45.

• Westfield War Memorial Village, which was buily in Lancaster in 1924, was initially created for ex-service men, women and families after World War I. The village is owned by registered charity War Memorial Village Lancaster and is home to 189 ex-service men, women and families. The homes are leased to Guinness Northern Counties.