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126 pages

English

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When Eileen Nearne died aged eighty-nine, her neighbours in Torquay knew only that she was a very private and reserved person, who loved animals. Such was her desire to distance herself from close relationships locally that council workers needed to search her flat to try to identify her next of kin.What they found was a collection of medals and documents relating to Eileen's wartime undercover work in occupied France."Rose" - A Life in the Shadows tells the extraordinary story of that war service and what led an ordinary English woman to risk her life for her country.Born in 1921 in London, Eileen was the youngest of four children born to a French-Spanish mother and an English father. The family moved several times during her childhood and when war began in 1940 they were living in Nice in the south of France. Keen to serve their country, Eileen and her older sister Jacqueline made the difficult journey home, through Spain, Portugal and Gibraltar. Once in the UK, because of her fluent French Eileen was recruited into the Special Operations Executive (SOE). Her determination showed itself when she passed the rigorous training course where she learned among other things weapons handling, map reading and field craft. In March 1944 she was flown in the dead of night to France where she was to work as a radio operator.This was Eileen's five months of "living in the shadows", using a number of aliases, always looking over her shoulder and living on her wits. In July 1944 her transmitter was detected and she was arrested. For Eileen this led to torture and nine months' forced labour in Germany, in exceptionally harsh conditions and on a woefully inadequate diet. Again Eileen's courage, determination and ingenuity saw her through and in April 1945 she escaped from a work gang.Together with two French women who had also escaped she made her way to Leipzig where the three were hidden by a priest. Eileen's nightmare continued when the liberating US army did not believe she was English and it was not until confirmation of her identity was received from London that she was finally free.Perhaps it is not surprising that such a tough set of experiences when she was still only in her twenties had a serious psychological effect on Eileen. She trained and worked as a nurse but found it difficult to settle after the war.Augustine Nash has pieced Eileen's story together from existing documents, interviews with relatives and acquaintances and extensive personal research. "Rose" - A Life in the Shadows is the sometimes dramatic story of a courageous and modest woman - Eileen Nearne, MBE, code name Rose.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	E-Book Publishing
Date de parution	17 février 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781912022083
Langue	English

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Rose - A Life in the Shadows
Copyright Augustine Nash 2012
Augustine Nash asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of the enclosed book or its extract pages submitted may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a data base or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchase.
In this work of fiction, the characters, places and events are either the product of the author s imagination or they are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Author s Note
Acknowledgments
A Thought-Flower
A Poem by Abram Joseph Ryan

Silently - - shadowly - - some lives go.
And the sound of their voices is all unheard;
Or, if heard at all tis as faint as the flow
Of beautiful waves which no storm hath stirred.
Deep lives these
As the pearl-strewn seas.
Softly and noiselessly some feet tread
Lone ways on earth, without leaving a mark;
They move mid the living, they pass to the dead,
As still as the gleam of a star thro the dark.
Sweet lives those
In their strange repose.
Calmly and lowly some hearts beat,
And none may know that they beat at all;
They muffle their music whenever they meet
A few in a hut or a crowd in a hall.
Great hearts those - -
God only knows!
Soundlessly - - shadowly - - such move on,
Dim as the dream of a child asleep;
And no one knoweth till they are gone
How lofty their souls - - their hearts how deep.
Bright souls these - -
God only sees.
Lonely and hiddenly in the world - -
Tho in the world tis their lot to stay - -
The tremulous wings of their hearts are furled
Until they fly from the world away,
And find their rest
On Our Father s breast,
Where earth s unknown shall be known the best,
And the hidden hearts shall be the brightest blest.
When asked, Eileen Nearne said:
The will to live. Will power. That s the most important. You should not let yourself go. It seemed like the end would never come, but I have always believed in destiny and I had a hope. If you are a person who is drowning, you put all your efforts in trying to swim.

Perham Road, Fulham, 1973
One
Fulham, 15 March 1921
The day Eileen Nearne was born had been mild with a maximum temperature of 54 degrees Fahrenheit all over London. There had been varying amounts of cloud, but in Fulham the sun had burst forth and the visibility was such that from the rooftops one could just see the Crystal Palace with its twin towers in the south-east, the beautiful glass structure glittering underneath the sun s rays.
Because of the fine weather the children of Perham Road were able to play outside on the cobblestones with no fear of the traffic, which at that time was mostly occasional horse-drawn carts and bicycles. The boys bowled iron hoops with a stick or whipped up tops, while the girls drew hopscotch squares on the paving stones and when they grew tired of that they tied a rope to a lamp post for skipping, with frequent arguments as to who was going to turn the rope.
During the afternoon the barrel organ grinder had arrived to entertain them. His red-coated monkey was a real favourite, so they had rushed inside to plead with their mothers, Please can I have a penny? Little Mickey is here and I want to see him do his tricks!
Mr Harvey was a nice man who had been wounded in the Great War and now entertained for a living. He liked children, and in their turn they would crowd round him while he played tunes turning the barrel organ handle. The children laughed and clapped their hands when the small monkey performed his tricks. It was something they all enjoyed.
It was now evening and the lamplighter had turned up the gas lamps at dusk with his hooked pole, and they cast warm light into the dark shadows. Often it was foggy and when the fires were lit smoke poured out of chimney pots; then the lamps took on a more sinister appearance.
At just after eight o clock the residents heard Doctor Sammy , as he was referred to, arrive on his motorcycle with sidecar, an unusual mode of transport at this time. Net curtains were twitched back and women excitedly informed their husbands, It s on the way at number 58, dead on time!
The maid, who had been hired for 30 a year with all found including her uniform, had already put the three children to bed, warning them not to make a noise and to go straight to sleep.
Doctor Sammy climbed the stairs carrying his black bag. He was a young man who loved his job and had delivered almost all the babies in Fulham without ever losing one.
His manner was quiet and professional when he entered the room, put his bag down and approached the bed. What a lovely young woman, he thought, noting the striking black hair and the perfect skin. Hello, Mrs Nearne, he greeted her. Nice to see you again.
On the opposite side of the bed a plump motherly-looking nurse hovered, looking anxious. As he knew her, he smiled, and then asked, How far apart are the pains?
Every ten minutes at the moment, Doctor, she answered, glad he had come, though things were progressing smoothly up.
Mariquita smiled back at him weakly, while the nurse gently wiped away the sweat on her forehead. This was her fourth child and all she wanted was to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.
As the white sheet was being drawn back so that the doctor could examine her Mariquita let out a cry of pain, feeling as if her insides were being torn apart.
Easy now, it will soon be over, Doctor Sammy comforted. Soon the head would engage and then the pushing would start. He examined his patient s face and could tell she was growing exhausted.
Going back to her side he asked, What do you hope for this time, Mrs Nearne?
I don t care just at the moment, she replied, screwing up her face and clenching her teeth, aware that if she made too much noise she might wake the children.
Downstairs, her husband, John Nearne, was pacing back and forth in the sitting room, wishing he could hold his wife s hand - but men were not allowed at the birthing. He felt helpless, thinking, I hope this will be the last one .
And then cutting the silence he heard a wail and knew it was all over. Thank God for that. Perhaps now they could get back to normal.
Inside the bedroom the fire had been lit and it had now taken the chill off the cold air. After weighing the now silent baby with hand-scales the nurse wrapped a cotton blanket tightly round it and approached the bed. Here you are, Mrs Nearne, a lovely baby girl, weighing six pounds and one ounce.
Mariquita took the baby in her arms, examining the face and light hair, and thinking these were not much like her side of the family. She was not to know that this child would grow up to serve her country with great valour. For now the baby was laid in her cradle and went straight to sleep.
When John quietly entered the room he found mother and child fast asleep. His beautiful wife looked so young and innocent that he felt a twinge of guilt. It had only been in January of the previous year that their second son, Frederick John, had been born. That night he slept in the spare room so as not to disturb his wife.
The next morning a rattling of churns could be heard from a delivery hand-cart. Anne, the hired help, went to the front door with two large white jugs which the milkman filled from a measure. How s the Mrs of the house going? Has she had that baby yet? he asked, in his usual friendly manner.
Anne smiled. It was born yesterday, a little girl.
Inside the kitchen she set about making porridge for Francis, Jacqueline and little Frederick s breakfast. Of course Jacqueline in particular was very pleased at the birth of a sister and bonded with her straight away. The bond was to last for the rest of their lives.
On 17 March John went along to register the birth of his daughter, who was named Eileen Marie. He entered his occupation as chemist s dispenser and then went back to work.
Perham Road was known as the more affluent part of Fulham. Unlike the surrounding streets, this row of better class houses, with their porticoed entrances and deep basements, was mainly for single family occupation. Despite this, mice still got inside the walls of the buildings where they could be heard scratching and gnawing.
Summers here always seemed hot and most houses in this road were brightened up by green and white striped window blinds and awnings over the balconies while, in contrast, to the south the houses were described as respectable but grim .
Number 58 was no different to the others. There Mariquita, who had been born in France, grew pots of flowers outside on the balcony, which gave her some satisfaction. Sometimes the greyness of her surroundings, where no trees grew, made her long to go back to her own country.
And yet Fulham was a busy place, with much going on in and around it. On Sunday mornings the Salvation Army held regular parades, the drums beating loudly as the marchers lustily sang hymns, a stirring sight and sound. While they were on the march the children would follow