I laid in the cold, dark room, suddenly wide awake with the sensation that something was going to happen very soon. Our neighbour had just roused my father, who had been lying on the top of my bed, having a quick rest. They had hurried outside and I heard the slamming of the front door.
l wrapped myself in my nylon quilted dressing gown, as I was already shivering with anticipation and went to sit at the top of the stairs. The flight was steep and narrow and looked down onto the narrow passageway that led to the front door. The living room door was visible and I could see the embossed pattern on the wallpaper glistening in the moonlight that shone through the back window. l could hear murmuring from the front room that was situated to the right, off the passageway. Then as my senses heightened l could hear the harsh breathing and cries of pain from my mum and the soothing tones of our neighbour, Mrs Ann Barnett.
Soon dad was back with the midwife, who quickly took charge of everyone. To this day I still do not know why they need so much boiled water but l guess it gave my dad something to do in the kitchen – away from “women’s” things.
It seemed like an eternity, shivering at the top of the stairs, forcing myself to stay awake while my sisters slept soundly in their beds. Sitting in the cold and dark l could see my breath waft gently from my mouth in pale grey wisps. Aimlessly I emulated the glamorous movie stars that l had seen on the television. I slowly crossed and uncrossed my legs in an elegant gesture and made exaggerated movements with my hands pretending to smoke a cigarette. This was accompanied by the occasional toss of the head and pout of the lips. Eventually, the wait was over and I heard dad leave with the midwife and our neighbour. Slowly I crept down the stairs.
I laid in the cold, dark room, suddenly wide awake with the sensation that something was going to happen very soon. Our neighbour had just roused my father, who had been lying on the top of my bed, having a quick rest. They had hurried outside and I heard the slamming of the front door.
l wrapped myself in my nylon quilted dressing gown, as I was already shivering with anticipation and went to sit at the top of the stairs. The flight was steep and narrow and looked down onto the narrow passageway that led to the front door. The living room door was visible and I could see the embossed pattern on the wallpaper glistening in the moonlight that shone through the back window. l could hear murmuring from the front room that was situated to the right, off the passageway. Then as my senses heightened l could hear the harsh breathing and cries of pain from my mum and the soothing tones of our neighbour, Mrs Ann Barnett.
Soon dad was back with the midwife, who quickly took charge of everyone. To this day I still do not know why they need so much boiled water but l guess it gave my dad something to do in the kitchen – away from “women’s” things.
It seemed like an eternity, shivering at the top of the stairs, forcing myself to stay awake while my sisters slept soundly in their beds. Sitting in the cold and dark l could see my breath waft gently from my mouth in pale grey wisps. Aimlessly I emulated the glamorous movie stars that l had seen on the television. I slowly crossed and uncrossed my legs in an elegant gesture and made exaggerated movements with my hands pretending to smoke a cigarette. This was accompanied by the occasional toss of the head and pout of the lips. Eventually, the wait was over and I heard dad leave with the midwife and our neighbour. Slowly I crept down the stairs.
I peered around the door of the front room and felt the immediate warmth from the fire – now just glowing embers. Mum was lying in the bed which had been brought downstairs towards the end of her pregnancy when it was too much effort for her to climb the steep flight. She looked very pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Her dark hair clinging to her scalp was the only sign of her struggle. She sensed someone was there and slowly opened her eyes and smiled. “Can I see?” I asked and she proudly pointed to the crib by the side of the bed. Rushing across the room I looked into the crib in eager anticipation. “Ooh” I gasped wrinkling up my nose as I stared down at the baby in the crib “It’s a Chinese baby” With his bright yellow skin, a shock of black hair that was sticking up on end and his wizened, screwed up face he looked just like an old Chinese sage.
Mum smiled and said, “He looks funny now because he had a hard time coming into this world. We are lucky to have him, if it had not been for the skill of the midwife we would have lost him”.
My brother Stephen had been born three weeks overdue, jaundiced and almost strangled at birth by an exceptionally long umbilical cord. Today, of course, home births are a rarity. Most take place in hospitals monitored by machines and nurses. When I was born the midwife was an integral part of the delivery process. In my mum’s day, however, things were very different and this is the tale she tells about her beginnings and childhood in the East End of London in the nineteen twenties.
Samantha French (nee Sheila Allen) Lucy’s daughter
The following story was recalled to Samantha by Lucy in 1995.
Me (Samantha French) Mum (Lucy) and Doreen (Ivy’s daughter) hopping at Yalding in Kent in later years.
Down The Wall 
Thank you so very much for documenting Lou Taylor’s story and sharing it on the internet. I have enjoyed reading it very much.
My father, Thomas Morley Bell, was born in January 1914 and brought up in “The Orchard House”. His family lived in West Street and Lea Passage. As a lad he often worked on fishing boats and Thames Barges. He worked at Baldwins; I think this when he left school. His family moved to 71 Oban House. My father’s step mother’s mother (my great grand mother) was Mrs Kingett who lived at forty something in Oban House.
I am starting to record my family history to pass onto my grandchildren and will include your Mum’s story for them as it is the nearest thing I have to my Dad’s boyhood memories. If ever you have the book published I would love to buy some copies.
Thanks again
Bob Bell
LikeLike