My little hand held so tight as the bus drew up, all the “big “ children got on, waving goodbye with my one free hand,
I longed for the day I would be able to join them. Although I was only four, I was assured I would be able to join my siblings at Burwash Primary that September. September? September I wonder what September was and if it would be tomorrow? No my mother had explained patiently as we walked towards my favourite place, Alice’s Café. “It’s is only June now, so it’s another three months yet”.
Still none the wiser I had lost interest as I have noticed another person my size also heading towards Alice’s. Equally keen it seemed, as she pulled on her mothers hand with both of hers. I looked upwards and saw a friendly face smiling down, “Are you going to Alice’s too? This is my little girl Angela” I had nodded shyly in response. Angela and I had then eyed each other up, neither of us it transpired had met many children our own size before and had felt a mixture of solidarity and anxiety, anxiety that the other may somehow steal our own mother away from us? This in mind we had both held on a little tighter and hid behind our mums for safety while they, oblivious, had begun to chat.
“I’m Jane, and this is Lisa” my mother had offered. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joy, and this is my Angie. We have just moved here from Orpington”, “Well we only moved here six months ago, we live at the top of that lane across the road at Kingsdown. Fancy a cuppa Joy” with that we had all headed into the green wooden hut with its red corrugated iron roof that was Alice’s.
As we entered I looked again at Joy. She was well named with a warm kind face, framed by mid brown hair that curled up as it reached her collar. She had a soft full figure and was modelling a pretty summer dress. I had relaxed a little and turned my attention to Angie. We both offered each other a small shy “hello” with a smile, and then got down to the serious business of eyeing the cakes and buns displayed in the big wooden tray next to the counter were Alice stood.
“Well girls what can I get you” said Alice. Angie and I stood side by side at the wooden counter on tiptoes, our little fingers holding on to its rounded edge tightly, “A Swiss bun, please” we chorused, we looked at each other with surprise and in that moment it was tacitly agreed, we were firm friends. Alice beamed down at us; her snow white hair, side parted was scrapped back from her face and tucked behind her ears. She wore and old fashioned floral dressed coved by a white piny. I adored Alice and beamed back, Angie and I held out both hands to take the small plain white plates that held our treasure, long buns covered in sticky white icing.
Our mums held their big mugs of tea and chatted. It turned out that Joy and Angie lived down the “under lane” the road which ran down hill behind the café. It also transpired that Joy had another daughter, Jane, who was the same age as my sister Sarah.
Jane and Sarah like Angie and I became inseparable friends. Joy and her husband Mick would come to Kingsdown for drinks parties held by my parents. Mick would often give them a lift to our local pub “The Wheel” as, neither of my parents drove. They would play darts and drink while we kids played outside with our coke and crisps, occasionally peering through the windows when more supplies were needed.
Years later, Joy would tell me that my father had introduced her to Gin and orange on her first visit to our house “David offered me a drink when I arrived one afternoon, I didn’t have a clue what to have, I wasn’t a big drinker especially not in the day time, so he made me a gin and orange, more gin than orange I think as I was more than a little tipsy when I left. I remember thinking how glamorous and sophisticated it was, drinking gin on a week day afternoon!” she had said as she smiled back at the memory.
That day I had tried to tell her how important she had been to me. She had always cooked lovely food and served it at actual set meal times, an alien experience for me. When she served the food, if one of her girls made a fuss about it she would say “why can’t you be like Lisa, she will eat anything I put in front of her, she never turns her nose up at it” I felt special then, and I was so grateful for every meal, sandwich or snack she ever made for me, for at home food had always been a hit or miss affair. I tried to tell her this as we sat with our tea at the Burwash Common summer fete, “nonsense she said, what nonsense” I just smiled and laughed a little inside, typical Joy I thought, ever down to earth and no fuss.
I spent half of my childhood at Woodside farm. With its white pebble dash front it was a sweet friendly faced house with light blue framed windows. Joy was at its heart, cooking and cleaning and often shouting for us to come in as our play outside had gone past the agreed time. Angie and I would immediately jump on our bikes and shoot off down the lane towards Parsons Farm as if we hadn’t heard.” I will crown you two”, she bellowed, then gave one of her big sighs as we disappeared out of sight. She never did crown me.
Angie’s bedroom almost always had a “put u up” bed in for me. In the winter there would be a paraffin heater hissing near us as we shivered in our beds trying not to give into to sleep. On really cold nights Joy would give us hot water bottles and a warm milky drink.
When we had finished the Cocoa we would retrieve our cold hands and snuggle down holding the sheets and blankets tightly up around our necks right up to our noses and giggle. “Quiet in there, go to sleep” we would be quite as we heard her steps retreat then laugh out loud...we would hear her come back up the stairs open the creaking door, then she would sigh extra loudly as way lay completely still and quiet with eyes tightly closed. “You two would try the patience of a saint” she muttered under her breathe as she closed the door again to more giggles.
One day a little baby appeared, I had no idea how? This white/blond haired arrival was named Lizzie and it turned out was Angie’s new sister. I don’t think Angie and I were too interested as we had committed firmly to being tomboys and small pink faced babies that cried a lot were not our thing! More often than not as she grew I would see Lizzie sitting on Joy’s hip. Joy had the perfect hips for the job, they swayed rhythmically as she walked, a loving arm holding little Liz firmly in place as she hung up the washing, cooked dinner or stood at the bus stop as Angie and I were now the ones that got on the bus to school.
