prepared to offer accommodation to. Being working class and a bit scruffy looking after that long journey, they were the last to be chosen. Her brother Danny, aged only eight at the time, had been selected by a farmer while she and Megan were chosen by another farming couple. Joanne had protested, claiming that being siblings they should stay together, but the billeting officer had ordered her to keep quiet. Having no idea where her brother was sent, she’d written to her mother, hoping Evie could discover that, which she did.
Joanne and Megan had hated the farm they were originally taken to, being treated like slaves and required to work hard on the land. If they didn’t do as they were told they’d be deprived of the poor food they were granted only twice a day. They’d felt constantly hungry, often being given only bread and dripping for their evening meal. Nor were they ever allowed into the house. They had to sleep in a barn, sharing a small makeshift bed on the dirt floor with no heat or light save for a single candle. There was no toilet or bathroom available, just a potty, which they had to empty every morning. Each day they would rise early and have to walk miles to school, no lift by horse or cart ever offered them. When it was bitterly cold weather they’d frequently fall ill with colds, their hands chilblained. Joanne came to believe they’d been accepted as evacuees simply to provide those greedy people with money paid by the Government, as well as the work they required them to do.
‘Do you remember the problems and anguish we suffered at that first place we were billeted?’ Joanne asked.
‘Only vaguely,’ Megan admitted.
‘Well, each month Mam would send us comics and parcels of food, and a warm scarf or jumper she’d knitted for us. I was always excited to see a parcel arrive then felt utterly furious when that couple handed it over to their own children, never to us. I frequently wrote home to explain this horror to Mam, then realized my letters were withheld by that farmer’s wife, which was why I never received a reply. I did finally manage to send her a letter, thanks to our local teacher who gave me an envelope and stamp and posted it for me in town. I told Mam that if we weren’t moved somewhere better, we’d run away.’
Megan gave a frown. ‘I do remember your excitement when you saw Mother standing outside in the yard one day. I found that amazing.’
‘I was filled with joy,’ Joanne said with a loving smile. ‘I dashed straight over; realizing Mam had come to rescue us. I threw our clothes into a suitcase within minutes. She was, of course, engaged in a furious row with our so-called foster parents and then marched us off.’
‘She walked us for miles to find a bus and a train. We then went home but didn’t stay long as we were soon evacuated again,’ Megan said, pulling her face in a glower of disapproval at how their mother had sent them back to Keswick and what happened as a result. Something her beloved sister had no wish to speak of or remember. ‘I agree we’ve been through an absolute nightmare and never seen her since. Thankfully these two kind landladies, Aunt Annie and Aunt Sadie, took us in when we were brought here to Blackpool, and are most kind and welcoming.’
‘They are indeed.’ On certain occasions, whenever she’d felt herself or Megan were badly treated, Joanne had gone to see the local billeting officer and insisted they should be moved. Eventually they’d been billeted here in Blackpool, which had proved to be a good thing. ‘I suspect they gladly took us in because they aren’t married and have no children of their own, just Bernie, their adopted nephew. However, you need to be aware that these landladies may no longer wish us to continue living with them, occasionally mentioning a wish to retire.’
‘Oh, surely that won’t happen.’
‘We should bear in mind that it might.’
They went on to talk at some length, worrying over where they could go and live if that occurred, having no conviction they would ever find their mother. Joanne still missed her badly and felt in need of her support. Making a decision about whether or not they should leave was not proving to be at all easy. And brooding about her own problem would do no good either.
Joanne gave a sad little sigh. ‘The question is, will the billeting officer send us back to Manchester now the war is over? Will he find where Mam is living, assuming she’s still alive, or put us in a state children’s home? Not a prospect I wish to consider. I’ll make some enquiries and see if I can find out where she is. If not, I could pay a visit to Manchester and search for her by calling on various friends who may have an idea where she’s now living or working.’
‘If you succeed, we still have to decide if we really do want to go back home, wherever that may be. As I say, I’m not certain I do,’ Megan stated firmly. ‘Your love for our mam is fairly obvious, but sadly I have very little memory of her. And convinced she may have deliberately neglected us, I very much prefer the affection I feel for these two landladies we think of as our aunts.’
‘Mam was always most caring so why would we not be pleased to see her again?’ Joanne stated gently. ‘Don’t worry, lovey, she could probably find you a good high school in Manchester. I’ll most definitely look into finding her but right now we’d best head back to Jubilee House and happily stick with living here.’ Stepping out with fresh vigour, they collected their bikes and cycled back. A warm breeze ruffling her hair, Joanne felt a comforting glimmer of determination and fresh hope.
It was a Friday afternoon when Evie and several of her women colleagues were instructed to visit the boss in his office. She happily went arm in arm with two of her friends, Enid Wilson and Lizzie Parkin. ‘We may be granted a rise in pay now the war is over,’ she said.
Enid gave a grin. ‘Let’s hope so. We definitely deserve that after all the work we’ve done.’
‘And Mr Eccles is generally a pleasant man, though a bit depressed having lost his brother and son,’ Lizzie whispered.
Seated at his desk, Mr Eccles failed to meet their happy smiles by keeping his gaze fixed upon his clasped hands. ‘I do thank all you ladies for the excellent work you’ve done throughout the war. I must now release you from these labours in order to give preference to our returning soldiers. Your task is over so you are free to retire, being no longer required to do your bit.’
Panic reverberated through Evie. Blast and damn this mill owner, such a goddam-son-of-a-bitch. He probably cared more about men than women now the war was truly over. Her friends stood frozen in silence, no doubt aware they had no right to object to these soldiers being sorely in need of a job. But they too badly required an income, as did she. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Why would they sack her, considering the problems she was facing? Evie suspected that when Donald arrived home he would not be fit enough to work and she would still have three children to protect and care for, or so she hoped. How on earth would she manage that without an income coming in? ‘You surely can’t be serious,’ she sternly remarked.
Finally meeting her furious gaze with a sympathetic smile, he said, ‘This war is over, so you dear ladies must now concentrate upon your domestic duties. The textile industry is not doing particularly well at the moment but soldiers, sailors and airmen on their way home will obviously require their old jobs back. You can work to the end of this month then must collect your final wages and card when you depart. I can but apologize for reality.’ He then ordered them to return to their looms.
As they all walked unsteadily out of the office, Evie heard some of the women start to grumble to each other, some weeping, others looking shocked and dismayed. They did very little in the way of weaving for the rest of that day, as they kept sharing the worry of where else they might find employment. According to the general conservation buzzing around throughout the day, it was clear that other factories had also laid off women workers, so new jobs would not be easy to find considering the high number of unemployed and the return of so many men from the war.
When their shift ended and Evie walked home with her two friends, Enid said, ‘How on earth can I continue to pay the rent without a wage coming in?’
Evie informed them that her niece too had lost her job at the tyre factory.