By Edna McCabe

My mother was Margaret Mary Wynne and was born in Athlone, County Westmeath, Ireland. Her mother was an Irish Catholic and her father was an English Protestant. When my mother was a baby her parents moved to Portsmouth in the south of England; so my mother had no recollection of her earliest days in Ireland; she therefore considered herself very much English. She had three sisters, Agnes, Caroline and Alice and one brother, Jack and they were brought up as Catholics. My mother's father was very strict about their religion and he had all the Mass times posted on the wall to make sure they would be on time for Mass. He of course always went to his own church. They were very comfortable and they lived in a lovely house by the seafront. From all accounts they were a very happy family. I am sorry now that I didn't listen when my mother talked about her much loved family.

My mother was manageress of a big hotel in Portsmouth where she had started as a general assistant. She used to say to us, "I didn't ever soil my hands" She was very good looking and loved clothes and jewellery. Her family used to fondly call her "the spinster". Eventually to everyone's surprise she met a young soldier from London during the 1914­18 war and they became engaged. His name was Charlie Starwood. Sadly he was killed in the war. He was an only son and his mother wrote to Margaret asking her to go to London to live with her. She refused, and soon afterwards she met my Dad - and that's where my story really begins. Her family always thought she married my Dad on the rebound, and so did we (her children), when we realised she always kept Charlie's photograph in her handbag.

Back to my Dad, one day he was out with a few of the lads on the beach in Portsmouth when they saw these lovely girls. He put his eye on my mum and kept it there; because every evening after that they kept meeting and one evening she brought him home. When my Irish grandmother heard that he too was Irish there was a great welcome for him, He was in the British army and he had been all through the war. He had been wounded and he was waiting for his discharge so that he could return home to Ireland. In a very short time my mother was once more engaged and she got married shortly after that. The next thing she was on her way to Ireland with her new husband. She was 31.

My father must have given her the impression that his family had a small farm. At least she knew he lived in Mullingar, County Westmeath; and to her Mullingar was "in the country". Nothing prepared her for the shock she got when she arrived in a small house near the centre of the town. The house had no bathroom or running water and there was just a water tap in the yard. This was not unusual in those days; but to my mother, who was used to hotel life, it must have been an awful shock. She was used to having baths and having her clothes laundered and "never having to soil her hands". However, there was a big kitchen with a stone floor, three bedrooms and lamplights.

Her adopted family kept chickens and hens and even a pig. The hens used to run around the kitchen and soil her beautiful long dresses. She found it hard to get used to her new lifestyle and she was really shocked when she found an egg on her bed one morning. Her father-in-law was a cranky, sarcastic old man who used to make fun of her especially about her refined voice as she spoke like the queen mother. I wish I could remember more.

I know my dad loved my mother very much and when she was unhappy he said, "Enough is enough, we'll move to Dublin". She was glad to say goodbye to her in-laws, not to mention the pork chops, bacon and cabbage, spare ribs and pigs feet.

And so to Dublin; my Dad had a good pension from the British army and both he and my Mum had savings, so for a while they lived comfortably in Blackrock, County Dublin. Mum had an uncle living there and I think he found them a place. My Dad looked for various jobs and eventually he decided to join the Irish army. He was a qualified chef and so he became a sergeant cook for the band boys, a group of young boys who were in training for the army band. He loved his work and he got on well with the boys. Eventually my parents moved into what they called "married quarters" in Portobello Barracks.

After two years my mother became pregnant. She was delighted and she decided to go "home" to have her baby. As a result, my brother Matt was born in a nursing home in Portsmouth. After another five years, my mother had four more children, who were all born in Dublin: myself, Joe, Caroline and Grace. Sadly Caroline died at birth. So that left two boys and two girls.

My mother loved Dublin where she didn't cook, bake or wash. My Dad did most of the cooking and my mother bought all her bread and she sent her washing out. Even at Christmas, she bought the cakes, puddings etc and the turkey had to be cleaned by the butcher before it came near the home. She employed "a help" in the house as she was against sending her children to be minded by anyone. This comfortable life style was to change, but more about that later.

My brother Matt was clever and he was forever looking for old watches and clocks which he enjoyed repairing. My Dad got him an old wireless and he took it to pieces to try to put it together again. Later, in his teens, he actually made a wireless that worked. He eventually became a Radio Officer and he worked all over the world.

I was next in line after Matt. According to my mother I was a very quiet child. At one stage she thought there was something wrong with me (perhaps she was right!) as I used to sit for hours playing with my dolls or staring into space. She actually brought me to the doctor who assured her I was just a normal quiet child - I could have told my mother I was in a dream world all of my own.

I used to read fairy tales and live through all those lovely stories that ended "happily ever after". I was always the princess who was rescued by the prince who brought me off to his castle on his silver horse. Nothing sad ever happened in the world of my imagination. And of course eventually, I did meet my prince. He came without a silver horse or a castle but he did fulfil all my dreams; but more about that later.

I became very much a Daddy's girl as he now took care of me in order to help my Mum. There were only eleven months between me and the next baby, Joe, or Joey, as we called him. Joey had big brown eyes and he was full of fun. My mum doted on him. He was the pet and he could twist her round his little finger. Mum lost her next baby, Caroline, at birth but she never told me much about the whole experience.

Last of all came Grace, another bundle of joy. She was very outgoing and played with all the boys. They used to come knocking at the door for her. She was a great pal of one boy in particular, Jack McDarby. I often wondered what happened to him. Grace didn't bother with dolls, but she used to take great pleasure in rooting in my corner of the press and throwing everything around. My poor dolls were often minus arms or legs, still we were friends and I enjoyed taking care of my little sister. Grace and Joey were also great friends but Matt outgrew the rest of us very quickly. He progressed to buying comics and looking for "a swop" with the girls.

Every year we all went to Portsmouth on holiday and we also spent a week in Mullingar. When in Portsmouth we used to meet my Dad's sisters and their families. He had three sisters, Brigid, Sara, Mary and Annie and one brother, Joe, was killed in the war. Annie moved to Dublin later on and we lost touch with her.

I remember my gran's house in Portsmouth; it was in a row of houses, and the address was 4 Cecil Grove, Southsea, Hants, Portsmouth. Granny was a lovely old Irish lady who lived for her home and her garden. One day she caught me running through her sunflowers and on another occasion she caught me by my cardigan. I got such a fright I told my mother that granny had pulled my hair.

The most exciting place in that house was "gran's cellar". We were never allowed down there; but of course we managed to explore it one night when she was out. We found all sorts of treasures, such as the family's long-forgotten toys, clothes, pictures and jewellery. We heard her coming, just as we were in the middle of our investigations. We got a terrible fright but and we managed to jump through a small window and into the garden. I often wonder what happened to all those treasures.

At the corner of Cecil Grove there was a shop, which we children thought was magical. They had jars of boiled sweets of different colours and you could choose any ten sweets for a penny. On Monday mornings you could buy a bag of broken biscuits for sixpence and soft drinks for a penny a glass. The shop also had marbles, comics and lucky bags.

We used to play in a big park, which was called The Common. However, we weren't allowed to play there on a Sunday, as the people were very particular about observing "the Sabbath". As Portsmouth was, and probably still is, a naval training base; Dad used to take us to see the big ships, including The Lord Nelson. We also saw the tall sailing ships they used for training naval cadets. Then our cousins used to take us to the beach, which, with its miles and miles of golden sand, where all those people were forever coming and going. I remember once falling into the sea; forever after that I hated water but I still loved the seaside where I used sit on the sand minding everyone's clothes and dreaming. I also loved when Dad took me by the hand to gather shells, which I took home and painted. It's amazing to think that this world of shells, and tall ships, and sand was all within walking distance of my granny's house.

For us children one of the high points of going to England was the train journey from Hollyhead to Portsmouth. I remember once the door of the train flew open and my Dad and another man managed to pull the door back and close it. My Mum was terrified. Apart from being frightened on that occasion Mum always hated the boat journey because she got seasick and because my Dad used to have quite a few drinks during the crossing. He used to sing and do funny things to make us laugh. On one sea crossing he let a bowl of goldfish fall. To the delight of the passengers, we children ran around trying to recapture the escaped fish. As we caught them they slipped through our fingers again. We got a great clap for our efforts from the other passengers.

Our holidays in Mullingar were quite different. My aunt used to give us glasses of buttermilk and feed us with homemade bread and seed cake. She made her own butter. We used to help her by doing little jobs like collecting eggs. One of my uncles through marriage, Jim, managed the Newbrook Race Course, which was two miles outside the town. We city children loved going there because we were free to run wild. There were no televisions or computers in those days so all of my cousins and their friends used to meet at the racecourse every weekend. We used to go to the stables to see the horses, and when the races were on we used to get into the grandstand for nothing. It seemed as if the sun was always shining in those days.

My Dad used to put my bicycle on the train from Dublin so I used to ride around the track showing off. One day I had a nasty fall. All the boys started to laugh, except one boy. He ran over to me, picked me up and told me to stop crying and jokingly said, "When you grow up I'll marry you". His name was Martin McCabe. After that, wherever the gang went Martin made sure I came along too.

Then came the time when Dad wasn't feeling well. He was always coughing and I remember Mum used to keep watching him. If I met him coming home from school he would lean on me until he got into the house, then he used to get me to sit beside him to do the crossword. He used to call me Edneen and once he told me that I got all the words in the crossword right. About this time he told us he was thinking of leaving the Irish army.

At this time they were building houses for the British ex-servicemen just outside Dublin and lo and behold he got one. My mother was so happy. Now Dad decided he could leave the Irish army with an easy mind. He expected to have two pensions when we'd all move to a brand new house. Then something happened which would change all our lives, Dad was taken to St Bricin's hospital with bronchitis. At first dad thought his illness would be all for the best because he would now be discharged from the army. One week later he died from emphysema. He was only 55. Our lives, especially my mother's, were shattered.

After a wonderful army funeral my mum had to get everything in order. She went to the British ex-servicemen's office in Dublin to give them the sad news, and hopefully to get everything sorted. She knew that the wives and children of British ex-service men are very well looked after. They get a house and a pension, and the children get full-time education. However, she was to get the biggest shock of her life. They told her that my Dad had made a big mistake. As an ex-British soldier with a pension he should not only have been working, but definitely not in the Irish army. He was therefore not entitled to anything. Furthermore there was no pension from the Irish army at the time; so my mother was left with a widow's pension and four children. On top of that she got notice to hand over the key of our "married quarters" in her own time. However, she didn't delay and with the help of her friend (a Mrs. Saunders) she went house hunting. Eventually the army provided a truck to move all our possessions to a flat in Charlemont Street, Dublin. And this is where we set up home in much reduced circumstances. If my mother had only gone to a solicitor, instead of the British ex-servicemen's office, things might have worked out differently.

Our lives were turned upside-down and we all had to help to make ends meet. Matt left secondary school and got a job and continued his education in the evenings. He worked in Dublin Wholesale News in Abbey Street. Although I was two years younger I looked for, and got, a job in Rooney's Tobacconist and Newsagents in Rathmines. Joe gave the wrong age and he managed to get into the army. He was "a big man" now and his pet name Joey became a thing of the past. Grace was still at school. My mum never questioned what we decided to do. I think as well as being in shock she knew we needed money. I remember Grace stayed longer in school than the rest of us, as my mother was allowed extra money for her on her widow's pension.

The people in Charlemont Street were real, generous, friendly people. They took to my mother immediately and called her "the lady" or the poor "wider woman". They were amazing people who knew every shop and street in Dublin. They could tell mum where to go for bargains and they knew the cheap butcher and where you could get fresh bread at wholesale prices. There was also the shop where you could buy clothes "on the never-never", by paying so much per week; and the corner shop where you could buy ? lb. of butter or sugar or tea. You could even buy a dish of jam if you wanted it. My mother was never used to this but she was a quick learner. Most of the problems of this time passed over the heads of us four children but I'm sure in a way they helped us to grow up.

We were only about one year in Claremount Street when we heard of a vacant flat in Rathmines, right beside Portobello Barracks. This was also quite near the school and the shop where I was working. We got this flat and for my mother it was like going home and we all settled quite easily. Our new flat was at No 1, Swanville Place, Rathmines.