Vol 2. Chapter 6 - The Merry Widow

My grandfather, Henry Walters, continued to work as a deliveryman, although by the 1920s he was delivering coal. This was a hard and dirty job. He didn't have a uniform, but he would have worn a leather hat with a flat leather flap down the back to protect his back and shoulders. He would have also worn “spankers”; narrow straps just below his knees to prevent coal dust getting up his legs.

Coal men were expected to deliver about 10 tons of coal a day, each sack of coal weighing 1 cwt (112 pounds or 8 stone), This was a considerable load to be carried from the cart to the coal bin at the back of people’s houses, or  the coal-hole under the stairs, Sometimes the coal was poured down a coal hole through a hole in the pavement.  

By the end of the day his face, hands and clothes would be black from the coal dust. With no bathroom, he had to strip wash in the scullery every day when he got home.

Given his health problems, this was heavy work for my grandfather. In the 1930’s he was forced to find a job that was less strenuous.  He became park keeper at Battersea Park, with particular responsibility for the boating lake.

My grandfather’s health continued to deteriorate until in late 1934 he was admitted into the Royal Brompton Hospital suffering from Pulmonery Tuberculosis. My grandmother at his side, he passed away on the 11^th December.

Nan was left a widow with 6 children to support. Uncle Harry was 20, but was “special needs”.  The authorities had wanted to put him into Residential Care but Nan refused when she saw what sort of institution it was.  She was very protective of Harry and wouldn't allow him to marry until 1961 when he was 47! Tom, aged 16 was at work, George was only 14, Eileen 9 and Ben was just 8 years old. My mother, who was 12, took her father’s death very hard.   Whether true or “false memory sydrone”, my mother always said that she was her dad’s favourite and the apple of his eye.  If there was anyone who had an “orphan spirit” it was my mother. Throughout her life, she longed for love, even if she had to buy it or bribe people for it,

My grandmother needed to go out to work to support her family and she became an office cleaner, working at Scotland Yard on the Victoria Embankment, over looking the Thames. She eventuially became a Supervisor, overseeing a team of cleaners. The job meant leaving home very early and leaving the children to fend for themselves, get their own breakfasts and get ready for school or work.

Outside of Scotland Yard, on the Victoria Embankment, was a jetty for mooring river boats. It was from here that Alfred Crouch ran his fleet of 6 river cruisers, including the, “Royal Princess” and the “Show-boat of the Thames”.  These were “Party Ships” rather than passenger ships. He even played host to the likes of Edward VIII and Wallace Simpson.

 Scotland Yard in the Background

Alfred Crouch was a wealthy man. His home at 78 Hammersmith Bridge Road is today worth about £860K.  He and my grandmother became lovers. Their relationship continued over a number of years and his regular visits and familiar ways meant that “Uncle Alf” became part of the family. The problem was he was married. His afternoon visits to my grandmother didn't go unrewarded; he brought gifts of expensive jewellery. Here is just a sample.

  

Their relationship continued even when my grandmother was bombed out of 20 Ponton Road and had to move to 36 Wyvil Road. Then, one fateful afternoon in  July, 1940, disaster struck. Poor Alf had a heart attack in my  grandmother’s bed – in flagrante delicto!

My 15 year old Uncle Ben was sent off to phone Mrs Crouch with the bad news. Within hours, Uncle Alf’s sons, William and Alfred Jnr arrived with an undertaker to take the body away.  The shock and the shame must have been overwhelming for Mrs Crouch. The obituary in papers gave my grandmother’s address as the place of his death. 7 weeks later Francis Crouch was dead. She died in Hammersmith Hospital on the 1^st September.  As well as the house, Alf left an estate that would today be worth over £250K.

My Nan wasn't invited to the funeral. But she did get to keep the Jewellery.

Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, by 1945, Nan had taken in a “Lodger”: James E Wright. After Alf died, Jim moved into 36 Wyvil Road. We would later know him as “Pop”. When she was bombed out of 36 Wyvil Road, Nan took Pop with her to 24 Wyvil Road. And then when Wyvil Road was demolished to make way for post war housing needs, Pop went with her to 98 Wilcox Road. (See photo) At least this time Jim Wright was free to marry; and so they did, in the spring of 1953.

My memories are that this was a very stormy relationship.  Often they led separate lives - living under the same roof but never talking to each other.  Pop used the down stairs back room as a bed-sit. I only have one memory of them together and that was when they took my sister Irene and myself on holiday to Leysdown on the Isle of Sheppy. Within days a massive argument blew up between them and Nan packed our bags and took us back to London. That night we caught the midnight sleeper to Cornwall to visit my Uncle Ben.

Pop never came on any of the farm holidays my Nan treated us to. (Perhaps he didn't like hop picking!)

  

Nan died on the 18^th December 1968 at St. Thomas’ Hospital of a myocardial infraction – a heart attack. The funeral cortège left from 98 Wilcox Road. Family mourners were organised in strict order of age. I remember the slow procession to Lambeth Cemetery.  I also remember the mad dash back to Wilcox Road afterwards to find Uncle Alf’s pieces of jewellery before Pop got his hands on them.

A search of the house revealed nothing. My mum and Auntie Eileen went back to Uncle Harry’s for a cup of tea. Harry causally mentioned that he’d brought back a shopping bag from Nan’s and it was hanging on the back of the door. Yes, you've guessed it. It was all there in the potato bag: gold jewellery studded with pearls, diamonds, rubies and sapphires. Not bad for a char lady!

Coming soon: Vol. 2. Chapter 7 - A Bowl of Eels.