大象传媒

THE SUMMARY OF CAROL AND VIVIENNE鈥橲 STORY 鈥�
鈥淭WINS鈥� - differs from the other girls in so much, that whilst they grew up enjoying the company of a sister, they were sadly denied the company of a Father, as when they were just 3 weeks old, he was tragically killed in Anzio, Italy. Their Mother鈥檚 struggle to survive in the post 鈥攚orld war of scarcity on a widow鈥檚 pension, which also had to meet the needs of her two growing daughters, and how she overcame her difficulties to successfully create a happy home for them all, is movingly told by the twins. In those days, when Wandsworth and Clapham Common were 鈥� in parts 鈥� still countrified suburbs, they have also told of how, whilst growing up there, they roamed freely and safely over them, recalling their many 鈥渁ttractions鈥�, from H.M Prison to the Boating Pond! They conclude with an account of their Mother鈥檚 pilgrimage to Anzio, over forty years later, to visit their Father鈥檚 grave, when at last she was able to say goodbye. . .

CAROL AND VIVIENNE鈥橲 STORY - Unlike the other girls, who did not have the pleasure of growing up in the company of a sister, we did have each other. But sadly, we were never to know the company of a Father. As when we were just 3 weeks old, he was tragically killed in Anzio, Italy.
Our Father William Budd, had been born in South West London, as had our Mother Rose Collins. So upon her marriage on August 5th, 1939, at 鈥淪t Michael鈥檚 Church鈥�, Wandsworth Common, she charmingly, became known as 鈥淩ose Budd鈥�!
They set up home in the lower part of a house on Clapham Common, where they lived for most of the war.
Our Father was employed as an aircraft fitter at 鈥淏ritish Aerospace鈥� in Kingston, Surrey, whilst our Mother 鈥渄id her bit鈥� working as one of a chain of fire-watchers. Sitting aloft on roofs, balconies and such-like, which did duty as their 鈥渉eadquarters鈥�, they kept a lookout for incendiary bombs and similar substances 鈥� reporting any incidents to the local fire service.
Then in September, 1943, our Father was called up for active service and was subsequently sent to Canterbury, Kent for four months training.
During this time, our Mother finding herself pregnant, decided to join him 鈥� living in 鈥渄igs鈥� in the city 鈥� so they could meet on his weekly days-off from the camp.
On completion of his training in January 1944, they parted 鈥� he to join his regiment 鈥淭he Sherwood Foresters鈥� as a Lance Corporal 鈥� and she, back to their Clapham home.

By the Spring of 1944, the worst of the London raids had eased off, and the new terrors of the 鈥淒oodlebugs鈥� were yet to come, nevertheless, pregnant women were still routinely sent out of London to the peace of the countryside to give birth. And so it was, our Mother found herself safely installed in a Nursing Home in the Roman city of St. Albans, Hertfordshire, to await the arrival of her first child. But much to her surprise, in the event, she gave birth to two!
On March 18th 1944, as Germany entered Hungary 鈥� the pair of us entered the world. Carol led the way, followed three quarters of an hour later by Vivienne 鈥� each of us weighing in at four pounds exactly.
Immediately, a telegram was dispatched to Lance Corporal Budd鈥檚 regiment, informing him 鈥淭hat he was now the Father of TWIN daughters!鈥� He replied saying, 鈥淭hat he couldn鈥檛 wait to get home to see us all鈥�. But sadly, it was not to be. On April 6th, 1944, whilst fighting in hand-to-hand combat in Anzio, he 鈥� together with the entire battalion 鈥� was killed. He was 28 years old.

Although utterly devastated at the tragedy that had befallen her, it seems that 鈥� after three months convalescence in Hertfordshire - our Mother began to tackle her difficulties with commendable courage, as she tried to come to terms with her new, sad situation back in her Clapham home, where we grew up. .

On August 6th, 1945, the first Atomic bomb was cast upon Hiroshimahi by the U.S.A devastating the city and killing 75,000 Japanese citizens. Then on August 9th a second one was dropped on the city of Nagashi - codenamed 鈥淏ig Boy鈥� by an American Super Fortress aircraft - killing a further 65,000.
Thus it was that on August 14th at midnight, the new British Prime Minister Clement Atlee, announced to the Nation on the wireless, 鈥淭hat the Japanese has today surrendered and the last of our enemies is laid low鈥�. So with the ghastly power of the atomic bomb, the 2nd World War finally came to an end.
Of course there was universal relief that soon the day would come when the men would be returning home and life for many families鈥� - after almost six long years of separation 鈥� would return to normal.
It can only be imagined the overwhelming sense of loss that our Mother must have felt, that for her, that day would never come. But despite her shattered dreams, with the help and support of our parents large, extended families鈥�, she successfully went on to create a happy home for us all.

During our early years, she decided to be 鈥渁-stay-at-home-Mum鈥�, and as she had to be both Mother and Father to 鈥渉er twins鈥�, the bond between the three of us was unusually strong. But it was not until much later, that we realised just how much we owed to her constant care, companionship and incessant love.
Looking back now, we realise what a terrible struggle she must have had as a young woman trying to make ends meet in a world of scarcity on the pittance of a widow鈥檚 pension, which also had to meet our own growing needs. As it was necessary for both of us to have clothes and shoes at the same time, nothing could be handed down. Although she did receive extra help in the form of a small bursary from 鈥淭he Church of England Children鈥檚 Society鈥�, she later told us that at one point, when our Father鈥檚 savings had been depleted, she was left with only one shilling in her purse. And she did not know whether to put this into the electric meter, or to buy a loaf of bread, until her pension was due the next day.
Nevertheless, despite her many anxieties and lack of money, we all managed to enjoy life in a quiet way.

As we were fortunate enough to live on Clapham Common and our Grandparents lived on neighbouring Wandsworth Common, daily, Mother wheeled us across them in our large twin pram and later, the pair of us spent many happy hours roaming freely and safely over these wide open spaces. Between us, on our expeditions to and fro, we made some interesting discoveries.
The area surrounding Wandsworth Common, which was originally developed in Victorian times, even by the 1940鈥檚, in parts, still resembled a countrified suburb.
The top of the Common was generally considered to be the better part! Threaded with footpaths, over which we followed, secret gardens, belonging to the 鈥渂ig houses鈥�, could be glimpsed in the roads in-between, where the two Commons 鈥� Wandsworth and Clapham 鈥� merged.
As well, we explored the little parade of shops, the cemetery, and the railway station 鈥� waving to the passengers on the passing trains further down the line - and of course, the ubitiquious bomb sites, which sadly abounded in those post-war days.
Hidden behind some large gates, there was what was then called 鈥漇pringfield鈥�, known locally as the 鈥淟unatic Asylum. Complete with its own farm, sometimes, the patients could be seen working here.
There was also Wandsworth Prison, which was as large as a village, originally built with streets of Wardens houses and gardens. And beyond its high walls, lay acres of open ground, which was leased for bowls and tennis courts, where many of us later played.
The fa莽ade of the prison was impressive, like a fortress with huge main gates resembling a medieval castle. These gates had a small door let into them and now and again, a notice was posted there notifying the public of when a murderer was to be hanged! Often, on the appointed day, a small crowd collected outside waiting for the dreadful deed to be done.
In contrast, the attractions on Clapham Common were of a very different kind!
As Spring unfolded, we looked out for the early catkins on the budding hazel trees and in Summer, we took our picnics of bread, jam, fairy cakes and a bottle of homemade lemonade and played such simple games as 鈥� 鈥渇ilm stars鈥�, hop-scotch and skipping.
On sunny, weekend afternoons, families鈥� flocked to the popular bandstand. Here, the grown-ups sat in deckchairs to listen to the music, whilst we children sailed our toy boats or fished for 鈥渢iddlers鈥漣n the nearby pond. Then there was the annual arrival of
鈥淭he Horse Shows鈥� and the excitement of 鈥淭he Circus鈥� with its impressive Big Top, which dominated the common.
On misty Autumn days, we walked through the rustling leaves, collecting acorns and conkers and later when the common was covered with snow, the foggy smell of the winter鈥檚 coal fires, caught our throats.

Our diet, compared to children鈥檚 of today, would be considered very, plain. But we were lucky - that even when our Mother later began working part-time - there was always a well cooked meal awaiting us when we returned home from school. We well remember her savoury suet, roly-poly puddings, dumplings, casseroles and pastry 鈥攖opped pies, prepared from our meagre meat allowance, which unlike other commodities, were rationed by price, not weight. From 1941, the weekly allowance for an adult, was one shilling and for a child sixpence, and fell into two categories. A= the more expensive joints and B= the cheaper cuts. These were mainly used for stews, or put through the kitchen mincer for rissoles and cottage pies.
Then of course, there were the American 鈥淟end Lease鈥� tins of 鈥淪PAM.鈥� Used cold in sandwiches and hot in fritters, all these, became familiar fare to children of our generation.
Beside the usual seasonal fruit and vegetables, of a limited variety, found in the local greengrocers, there was also garden fruit, starting with the early rhubarb and gooseberries and continuing through the Summer months to the last late plums and apples. Blackberries too, were collected for bottling and jam making and were stored in our larders for use in the Winter months.

Alas, our home during those long, bitter Winter鈥檚 of the 1940鈥檚 were extremely chilly indeed. We could only afford one open coal fire in the living room and an oil heater in the hall, which made smuts when it smoked, and in the dark, made interesting patterns on the ceiling. And the pungency of the paraffin lingered on well into the Spring!
Our bedrooms, being totally unheated, all too frequently had icicles hanging from the INSIDE of the windows, when the temperature fell below zero!

Needless to say, there was little money left over for luxuries, so we did not have a telephone or a television set. But we all enjoyed listening to the wireless together, to such programmes as 鈥� 鈥淟isten With Mother鈥�, with Daphne Oxenford, 鈥淐hildren鈥檚 Hour鈥�, 鈥淐hildren鈥檚 Favourites鈥�, Dick Barton鈥� and later 鈥淟ife With The Lyons鈥�.

There was always a warm welcome awaiting us in both of our Grandparent鈥檚 homes and however busy they were, each of them could spare time and love for us.
As sometimes happened with twins back then, Carol had the misfortune to be born with Talipes, a distortion of the foot. So, frequent visits to 鈥淕reat Ormond Street Hospital for Children鈥� were necessary for treatment and for the fitting of special shoes. On those days when our Mother accompanied Carol to London, Vivienne looked forward to staying behind with our paternal Grandparents. Here, we remember Grandad Budd lifting the kettle onto the kitchen range to boil, whilst Granny Budd knelt in front of the fire with a toasting fork to make toast for our tea.
Equally memorable, were our weekend visits to the Collins household where we regularly joined our maternal relatives for family occasions.
And so surrounded by affection, the early years of our childhood slipped by.

In the Autumn of 1986, over forty years since our Father鈥檚 death, our Mother was at long last, able to visit the war graves on a pilgrimage to Anzio, where he was buried. Arranged by the 鈥淏ritish Legion鈥�, she travelled in the company of other war widows with whom she had much in common. None of them had enjoyed an easy life. All had known the tragedy of war and the numbing poverty of its aftermath. And yet, almost all had gone on to build successful lives and loving families.
Thus, it came about, that on a quiet September morning, our Mother finally found herself beside our Father鈥檚 last resting place. Alone, with head bowed, she stood motionless for a moment, before gently setting her wreath against his memorial cross. Later, she watched the 鈥淯nion Jack Flag鈥� being lowered upon it, whilst a solitary bugler sounded the Last Post. Who knows what she felt at that time 鈥� love, loss and a longing for what might have been?
Before turning to retrace her steps, she lingered to take a final look at the sea of graves around her and thought of all those thousands of young men 鈥� all missed and all mourned.
Then as the dying strains of the salute echoed across the cemetery, she reluctantly said her last goodbye and slowly walked away into the Autumnal stillness.

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