The West End Nannies, page 1
The West End Nannies
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
A Letter from Pam
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright
Title Page
Cover
Table of Contents
Start of Content
I dedicate this book to all the little children in the nurseries where I worked many years ago. Some of you had a rotten beginning to your lives but there were people in those nurseries who really cared about you and did their best to give you a happy childhood. I also dedicate this book to the children I looked after as a private nanny.
All of you left me with some wonderful memories – thank you.
Chapter 1
Harefield House Nursery, 1962
Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.
English nursery rhyme, circa 1744
Eighteen-year-old Jenny Lamar almost jumped out of her skin as the peace and quiet of the morning was suddenly and rudely interrupted by a loud noise – the fire bell. She had been busy pushing the electric polisher over the lino in the tweenies’ bedroom to get a shine. It was a rather unwieldly machine that at times seemed to go every which way but the way she wanted.
Turning the machine off, Jenny took half a second to think what to do next. Evacuate the house. They didn’t have fire drill that often but Matron was strict about everybody doing the right thing. Of course the children were top priority and then it was her job to close all doors and fire doors once the nursery home was empty. It was a lovely sunny day so the children were in the garden but even though Jenny knew she was quite alone, she made sure no one was hiding in the room. Next, she checked the toilets and closed the door. Hurrying but not running, she made her way to the baby room. With six babies under a year, whoever was working there could not be expected to get them all out by herself. Sylvie was on duty and as Jenny opened the door, Sylvie came towards her.
‘They’re all outside in their prams,’ she shouted over the persistent sound of the bell.
The two girls made their way downstairs. ‘You check the tweenies’ playroom,’ said Sylvie, ‘and I’ll check the dining room.’
Jenny looked in the nursery where the children between the age of eighteen months and three years old, called tweenies, played together. It was empty, as was the toilet room and sluice. When the bell suddenly stopped ringing, the house became eerily quiet, although the sound of the bell was still ringing in her ears. Jenny and Sylvie met up again in the corridor.
‘What about the kitchens?’
They checked as they walked towards the laundry room and the back door. The kitchen was empty; Cook’s partially made apple pie awaited attention on the floury table. All the gas taps were off and so was the oven.
Having closed all the doors behind them, the two girls made their way outside to the assembly point near the pram shed, where staff and children had gathered together in a fairly tight circle.
Matron was waiting for them with a clipboard. ‘Toddlers?’ she demanded.
Miss Collins, the nursery warden who was in charge, drew herself up to her full height. ‘Twelve children, two staff, Liz and Monica, all present and correct, Matron.’
‘Tweenies?’
‘Six children, all here, Matron.’ That was Carole, Jenny’s room-mate. ‘With students Jenny and Sylvie.’
Matron made a large tick on the paper held by the bulldog clip on her board. ‘Babies?’
‘All in their prams, Matron,’ the sister in charge of the baby room assured her. ‘Belinda and Rita are my students.’
It was important to keep a check on the staff because the students were moved around so that they had an all-round experience of looking after the children.
Little Vera slipped her hand through Jenny’s. ‘Why are we all here?’
Jenny bent low. ‘We’re having a fire drill,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s when we practise what we would do if the nursery was on fire.’
Vera’s eyes grew wide. ‘Is it on fire?’
‘No, no, of course not,’ Jenny reassured her. ‘This is pretend.’
‘All staff,’ Matron said, beginning to read out the names of everyone working in Harefield House.
‘I want to go to wee-wees,’ announced Thomas and Miss Collins told him to shh.
Until her name was called, Jenny drifted into a world of her own. She’d been here for just over a year now and what a year it had been. When she first arrived, Jenny had no idea how challenging the work would be. All the students worked a ten-hour day that began at seven and finished at seven. Everybody had two hours off duty during the day, and they had one day a week off, which meant they worked a sixty-hour week – and it was hard. This morning Jenny’s duties had included cleaning the whole of the tweenies’ area, so after breakfast she’d got the Ajax out to scrub the bathroom, toilet, sluice and sinks. Next came the bedroom, which included washing the floor on her hands and knees and then, when it was dry, putting the polishing machine over every inch. When she finished that, she would have to tidy the downstairs playroom, dust the toy cupboard and make sure all the toys were complete with no missing wheels or lost pieces of jigsaw puzzle. With so many modern appliances to make housework easier, it had come as a bit of a shock that she and her fellow students had to do so much donkey work, but the nursery was run with the old-fashioned attitude that ‘we do it this way because we’ve always done it this way’.
‘Nancy,’ said Matron breaking into Jenny’s daydream. ‘Where’s Nancy?’
‘I want to go wee-wees,’ Thomas said again.
Everybody looked from one to the other in bewilderment. Nancy was a girl from the estate. She wasn’t training to be a nursery nurse but had been employed by the council as a casual worker.
‘Has anybody seen Nancy?’ Matron said irritably as she addressed a sea of blank stares.
‘I saw her going into your office, Matron,’ said Monica.
‘She was the girl who was to ring for the fire brigade,’ Miss Collins interjected. ‘She should be out here by now.’
Matron tutted then snapped, ‘Jenny, go in and find her… and take that child with you.’
Jenny hurried to do her bidding, Thomas skipping beside her.
Jenny sent Thomas to the toilet and went in search of Nancy. She found her sitting at Matron’s desk.
‘Are you coming, Nancy? You should have been outside by the assembly point by now.’
Nancy rose to her feet. ‘Oh, I didn’t know.’
Yes, you did, Jenny thought to herself. I explained everything to you myself the other day. But this was no time to argue about it so the three of them hurried back down the corridor. By the time they got to the assembly point, Matron’s face was as black as thunder. Jenny felt really sorry for Nancy as she laid into her.
‘Where on earth do you think you’ve been?’
Little Vera tugged Jenny’s skirt. ‘Can we go in now?’
Jenny bent towards her. ‘We will in a minute.’
‘It only takes a minute to dial 999.’ Matron’s strident tones cut through the atmosphere. ‘Heavens above, girl, what were you doing? If this had been a real fire, you would have been burned to a crisp. Or worse still, some poor fireman may have risked his life to save you.’
Nancy hung her head. ‘Yes, Matron. Sorry, Matron.’
‘Next time there is a drill,’ Matron continued, ‘pretend to make the call and then make sure you get out of the house as quickly as possible.’
Nancy looked up, an expression of horror on her face. ‘Pretend?’ she croaked.
At the very same moment, they heard the throaty roar of an engine and saw flashing blue lights as a fire engine sailed onto the driveway and parked up. The children began cheering and jumping up and down.
Matron’s jaw dropped, then she turned back to Nancy. ‘You stupid girl!’ she cried furiously. ‘Don’t tell me you actually rang for the fire brigade?’
Nancy was mortified while everyone else struggled to keep a straight face. The children were hurtling towards the engine begging for rides and wanting to climb onto it as the nursery staff struggled to keep tabs on everybody.
&
Matron was close by so Jenny suppressed her own giggle and gave her friend a nudge.
As it turned out, once explanations and apologies had been shared, things became much more relaxed. Nancy had been close to tears but seemed a lot happier when the lead fireman stood up for her. ‘A little over-enthusiastic, I expect,’ he said with a soft expression.
The children had a wonderful experience because the firemen were in no hurry to get back to the station. While their chief went into Matron’s office for a cup of tea, the men let the older children climb aboard the vehicle.
‘Can I put on your helmet?’ Thomas wanted to know. The fireman gave it to him even though it came way past his eyes and he had to hold his head right back to see. It was clearly very heavy for a four-year-old but Thomas wasn’t about to give it up. Jenny ran to her room to fetch her camera and used up the four remaining frames on the film inside to take pictures, while the girls looking after the toddlers and tweenies flirted a little. One man actually asked Carole for a date. Twenty minutes later, after a couple of short bursts on their blues and twos, the firemen set off again and the children waved them goodbye.
It took a concerted effort to catch up with her work once they had gone but fortunately she managed it. That day, Jenny’s break was from two till four. She took the opportunity to walk into the town and take her roll of film to the chemist. Getting her pictures back after they’d been developed would take five days.
This part of the Home Counties was a lovely area. Only twenty miles from central London, landing this job and the training that went with it was everybody’s dream. Home for Jenny was on the Hampshire–Dorset border in a small village called West Moors. She had begun her working life in Woolworths five miles away in Ringwood, but had always wanted to travel and see other places. And why not? This was the 1960s and everything was changing – fashion, attitudes and opportunities. When she’d first mooted the idea of becoming a nursery nurse, her father hadn’t been too keen but her mother had done all she could to help Jenny make her dream come true.
With almost an hour of her off-duty left, Jenny sat on a bench in the park on the way back. It was a lovely day and plenty of people were strolling by. Some fed the ducks and, just behind her bench, some children played on the swings. She enjoyed her job but she had hoped to spend more time with the children. Sometimes it felt as if they were more like slaves to the routine than people caring for children. The children in care had already had a rubbish start to their little lives. Some were neglected, homeless or unwanted, while others were much loved but circumstances meant that they found themselves in a strange environment with a flurry of staff who were all different. Of course Jenny knew she couldn’t be sentimental about it, but it would have been nice to be able to spend more time with them and show them that she cared.
Jenny’s mind drifted back to that special day with Mum. It was just another day until she sat down for her tea after work. Mum had reached up and pulled a letter down from behind the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Came this morning.’
Jenny looked down at the long brown envelope and when she saw the embossed copperplate writing in the top left-hand corner, Surrey County Council, her eyes grew wide. She looked up to see her mother smiling.
‘This is it, Mum.’
‘I reckon it is.’
Her mother couldn’t read so when Jenny looked down again, she told her what was on the envelope. ‘It says, “Miss J. Lamar, Pinehurst Road”…’
‘I know it does,’ she said. ‘The postman told me. Well, go on, love. Open it.’
‘“After your recent interview,”’ Jenny read aloud, ‘“I am delighted to offer you the post of nursery student at Harefield House. You will start your training on Monday 4 September 1961. I enclose a list of requirements, which you should mark clearly with your name.”’
Jenny pulled another piece of paper away from the bottom. It was a list of clothing – two bras, two vests, four pairs of knickers… the list went on and on and she knew she was going to have to do a lot of sewing if she were to label all that!
‘Oh, Jenny,’ her mother whispered. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘You don’t mind me leaving home?’
‘Of course not, my darling,’ Mum said. ‘This is your moment. You go and get that training. I’m sure you’ll be the perfect nursery nurse!’
‘And when I’ve finished my training,’ Jenny said, slipping her arm around her mother’s shoulders, ‘I shall get a job with a fabulously rich family and travel to all those places you wanted to go to when you were young.’
Her mother chuckled. ‘Will there be any room in the suitcase for me?’
‘Of course,’ cried Jenny and they both laughed.
The following Saturday, she and her mother caught the bus to Bournemouth. Jenny sighed as she recalled slipping her arm through her mother’s as they shopped until they dropped. How she wished Mum was here now.
Two weeks later, Jenny had travelled by train with her one and only suitcase and arrived at Harefield House. She’d been assigned to a bedroom with two other beds and told to unpack. The next few days had been awkward, trying to do the right thing, working out who was who and getting to know her fellow students. She quickly developed an empathy for the children in the nursery. If she, being a grown-up, found it unsettling and strange being away from family and friends, how much more difficult must it be for little children being snatched away from all that was familiar? She had come to the nursery by choice. They had no choice and even if they had come from terrible squalor or unsuitable home conditions, to them that was home. The nursery might be clean and, above all, safe, but it was still bewildering and scary.
Over time, Jenny got on well with her room-mates. She’d started out with Carole and another girl called Griselda. Griselda took her exam and passed in the spring of 1962, then Rita came. Rita was a free spirit who lived one day at a time but Carole was a bit of a worrier and right now she was fretting because her boyfriend, Martin, had been a little secretive of late, and she feared that he was going to break off with her. Jenny wondered vaguely if Carole felt any better after their ‘deep and meaningful’ talk last week, but last night she had come in late so Jenny hadn’t had a chance to ask.
She glanced down at her watch. It was time to go.
As soon as she’d finished her tea, Jenny went back on duty for the last part of the day. She and Rita took turns to bath the tweenies and put them to bed. After they’d been to the toilet, each little person was undressed, put into a warm bath with some toys and washed from head to toe. There was little time for them to play because there were six of them to bath, and time was even tighter when it was hair wash but not today. Out of the bath, the children were dried and then they put on their nightclothes. Everybody was given one last drink of the day, usually warm chocolate, and then it was bedtime. It was Jenny’s turn to read the story while Rita cleared up the bathroom. After all the excitement of the afternoon with the fire engine, the children were more than ready to go to sleep. In fact, by the time she’d read the part where Harry the Dirty Dog flop-flipped and flip-flopped, most of them were asleep.
Jenny put out their clothes for the next day and kissed the ones who were still awake, although very sleepy, good night. The bathroom had been tidied up, so Jenny took all the sluiced nappies down to the laundry room, where she left them inside a lidded bucket. They wouldn’t be boiled up now. Whoever was on laundry duty tomorrow would have that pleasure.
Jenny’s last job of the day was to polish all the shoes. Eighteen pairs of shoes, all shapes and sizes and at least four different colours – red, blue, black and yellow. Once they were all done, she put them back in the bedroom where their owners were already blissfully sleeping. As soon as the supper bell went, Jenny padded back downstairs to scrambled egg on toast.
‘Did you see your letter?’ Belinda asked as she walked into the staff room.
Jenny frowned. ‘What letter?’
It was on top of the cupboard where the cups and plates were kept. She hadn’t seen it at breakfast time so it must have come second post. Jenny recognised her sister Susan’s writing on the envelope. She tore it open and settled back to enjoy news of the family and, more especially, to hear about the preparations for Susan’s wedding next year. Only the letter wasn’t about any of that.
