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Kit had been out of work for a few weeks, but on the Sunday morning after our wedding he went to the corner shop for something, and met a man he knew who told him to come to a job next morning and he would get started. That was great news. We could manage very well on his wages, which was about £3 a week. He gave me £2.10s.0d for housekeeping, the other 10/- was for fares to work and his cigarettes.
I was still being very sick and a fortnight after I was married I had terrible pains in my back and I felt very ill indeed. I had to have the doctor in, and he said I had an infection of the kidneys and had to stay in bed. There were no antibiotics or penicillin then, and it took a couple of weeks in bed, the doctor visiting every other day, before I was fit again. After that I was as fit as a fiddle, my sickness stopped, Kit was working, I had a home of my own, sparsely furnished though it was, it was our home, and we were happy.
The flat was badly in need of repairs, but we made the best we could of it, and I kept it clean and tidy. There was an old iron range in the living room, but it was broken and the oven didn’t work properly, so I did all our cooking on the old iron gas stove in the scullery. I was always able to cook, so Kit didn’t suffer any ill effects, in fact he said my cooking was better than his mother’s.
I could make a good steak and kidney pie with potatoes, peas and cabbage, rice pudding to follow, all for about 1/-. We had bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning, side bacon was 6d a pound, eggs 1/- a dozen, steak and kidney about 7d a pound, mince 6d a pound, sausage and liver 6d a pound, potatoes 3d for a half-stone, flour 1/- a stone, butter about 4d or 5d a pound, large loaf of bread 4d, so though the wages may seem desperately small by present day standards, we could manage to eat very well.
The rent was 11/- a week, and Kit’s cigarettes 6d for ten. Tramfare to town was 1½d. A night out at the pictures cost us 9d each, a quarter of sweets 1½d. We were affluent.
Every week I would buy some small item of kitchenware, save a few bob towards a stair carpet, and then as time got on, I’d buy material to make little nighties, wool for coatees, talcum powder, soap, nappies and all the small items needed for my baby. Mum had a christening robe, and four day-gowns of fine lawn trimmed with broderie anglais which she had had since Effie was born, and these were washed and ironed and put in the drawer all ready for baby. Mum and I were the best of friends now that we were not living together, and she gave me much help and advice, although I had stormed out of her house swearing I would never darken her doorstep again (in best drama-school fashion), I was never away from her for long. She called to see me regularly, and at Christmas we went to mum’s for our dinner and tea, and New Year we went to Kit’s mum’s.
Kit’s job finished and he was out of work over the Christmas and New Year into February. We got 22/- a week dole money and it was a very tight budget. We just did without everything we could do without. Some days we went to mum’s and she would give us our dinners, dad was working then. Once or twice we got a parcel of groceries from Kit’s mother. Kit had a few shillings saved up, and we just managed to get through, a struggle but we were used to poverty and we were both fit and strong, so we didn’t worry too much. We didn’t have anybody else but ourselves to worry about. It would be very different in the coming years when we had our children to worry about.
Late February or early March Kit got started work again. This was to be the pattern of his working life till the war started. Painting was seasonal work, nobody wanted painters during the winter months but as soon as the weather turned springlike people would want their homes or premises painted and he would be in work again. The job might last a few weeks or a few months, depending on what was being painted, and I got used to viewing Saturdays with dread wondering whether he would give me the news that the job was finished along with my housekeeping mone.
There was no guaranteed wages then and if the weather was bad and he was painting outsides then he would come home for the day and his wages would be that much less at the end of the week. Sometimes he worked overtime and would have more money than usual, but these times were few and far between, and when he did have a bit extra he would try to save it up to help out when he was out of work.
Anyway, he started work in March, a good job which would last at least a couple of months and overtime too, so we were eating well again. April came and my 21st birthday. Time was getting on and I was looking forward to the birth of my baby. I was impatient to find out if it was a boy or a girl. I didn’t mind which as long as it would hurry up and come.
I had everything ready, the nurse booked and the doctor too. No ante-natal clinics then, the nurse called in every month to see how you were doing. The last month she came fortnightly. The baby was due about the 10th of May, they told me, but the 10th of May came and went and no baby. Every day after that seemed like a week to me. I was big and the weather was hot, and so I was weary of waiting.
Whit Sunday, 20th of May and I felt heavy and could hardly trail about. Early on Whit Monday morning the pains started. Kit went for the nurse and yes, she confirmed I was in labour. That Whit Monday was the last time they had the procession in Walker. Kit went for my mum, my dad came too. After lunch time Effie and Harry and Anne came as well. People were coming and going all day.
My pains got heavier and heavier and I would not let mum leave me. She stayed with me and held my hands and wiped the sweat from my face, comforted me and encouraged me through all the long hours of labour. No chloroform, no gas and air machines, no twilight sleep then, you produced your baby the hard way with hours of excruciating pain.
She was born at 9.25 pm Whit Monday the 21st of May, my beautiful, beautiful baby. She really was beautiful, no red wrinkled baby this, but a 9 lb china doll. I just couldn’t believe it, the nurse put her in my arms and I just couldn’t believe it. I don’t know what I had expected to see – certainly not this perfectly lovely baby who was all my own.
While I was still staring at her in awe Kit came in and clasped us both in his arms, tears rolling down his cheeks. “A beautiful baby and a beautiful mother,” he gasped. Then the whole family trooped in to see the new arrival. Kit’s mother, his cousin and wife had arrived earlier in the evening, my mother, father, Effie, Harry, Anne, Mick, all were there – such a crowd.
The doctor who had arrived just in time to deliver the baby was astounded when all these people suddenly appeared in the bedroom. He must have thought he’d got into a football match by mistake. There they all were, milling round the bed, oohing and aahing, and tears running freely. Mum soon put a stop to that though, and sent them all off home so that I could get some much needed sleep. She kissed me tenderly and with tears in her eyes said, “No matter what we’ve said and done to each other you still love your old mum, don’t you?” I couldn’t have got through all that pain without her there beside me. My mum knew how to handle a headstrong horse like me, a clip round the ear now and then and a firm strong hand on the rein to keep my nose pointing in the right direction.
She came up every day while I was confined, ten days you stayed in bed then, got things ready for the nurse, did the washing and household chores, made Kit a meal ready for his return from work. Nobody had better care than I had. My dad came up every evening too. Both of them were delighted with their first grandchild.
I got up on the tenth day, and on the twelfth day went with mam for my baby’s pram. The next day was Sunday and we had arranged to have her christened at Byker Parish Church. It was the custom then to carry a “Christening Piece”. This was usually a slice of the christening cake, a cheese sandwich and/or a buttered teacake with a piece of silver money wrapped in tissue paper inside the teacake. All this was wrapped in tissue paper and carried by the godparent who was carrying the child to church. On the way to church the Christening Piece was given to the first person of the opposite sex to the baby. The person receiving the piece was usually delighted, would have a look at the baby and wish it the best of luck.
The whole lot of us went to the church and when we came back we had a little tea party. We christened our baby Elizabeth Anne, Elizabeth after me, Anne after my sister because the baby was born on Anne’s birthday. I couldn’t wait to get out with my new baby, showing her off to all the neighbours, wheeling my pram with such pride.
In those days you got your baby christened (baptised into the church it should be) as soon as you possibly could because a lot of people, especially the older generation, did not like a new mother coming into their homes until she had been to church. She brought bad luck they said, until she had been “churched”. So if a new mother wanted to get out and visit her relations she went to church as soon as possible after the birth. 
The first three homes the baby visited were expected to give alms or “almings” as it was always called. This consisted of a candle, salt, sugar, an egg and a piece of silver money. I think these things meant:- the egg was the symbol of life itself, the candle the Light, Christ the Light to lead you, the salt the savour of life, the sugar the sweetness and the money for good luck. Nobody bothers with these things now, they think it’s a lot of nonsense but they were nice rituals.
A few days later I developed a breast abscess so the baby had to go on the bottle. She didn’t mind, she thrived well on it. She was a good baby. Mum and dad doted on her and argued who should nurse her when I took her to see them. My dad said that the most beautiful sight in the world was to see a tiny baby held in a man’s strong, brawny arms.
When Betty was about six months old, we saw a flat to let just round the corner from us. It was a downstairs flat and it would be much more convenient for the pram. The owner of the flat lived upstairs so we knocked and he showed us round. It was in much better condition than the place we were living in, and was the same rent as we were paying, so we decided to take it.
When we came out of the flat and were walking up the street talking about it and telling each other how much nicer it was than the one we had, a man standing at his door stopped us and asked if we were thinking about taking that flat. We said we were and he warned us not to, as the owner was a “cracker” and nobody who lived there ever had any peace. Well, we wondered what to do. Should be believe the man and stay where we were, or should we risk it and move into a much better flat? Our place was so bad though, and being upstairs it was so awkward carrying the pram up and down the stairs. So we decided to risk it and we moved into Grace Street the next week.
Next: GRACE STREET
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