Rose A life in the shadows

By Augustine Nash

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E-Book Publishing
• Release date: Feb 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781912022083

Book preview

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 behind, mimicking the musicians.

There were all sorts of street entertainers trying to earn a living, from men dressed up in drag to the Punch and Judy show, which could be watched on the corners of Charleville, Castletown and North End Roads. Errand boys were a familiar sight, riding bicycles with carriers on the front and their employers’ names written boldly across the handlebars, delivering anything from meat to vegetables.

Mariquita was now up and about after a ten day ‘lying in’ period. She was more than happy to resume her life, particularly as little Eileen was a contented child. And of course things were much easier now that she had help with the housework and the children. And yet her heart was not there, her thoughts flying away to her former life.

Now, to give the children a treat Mariquita took them to West Ken Super Kinema in North End Road, where seats were cheaper if you managed to get there before three in the afternoon. Anne was taken along to look after the baby, which took some of the weight off of Mariquita’s shoulders. The Nearnes could afford little treats as they were not badly off. Mariquita, who had come down from a noble family originating in Spain, owned houses. At the Kinema they watched the film Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the youngest two children lulled to sleep by the noise.

Often the family would venture out to the many small shops in the area, passing by the Eel Pie Shop where live eels were kept in a tank in the window. The older children would stare with their noses pressed hard on the glass, both repelled and fascinated, until the nasty smell of them cooking drove them onwards.

Now June had arrived and Eileen was thriving and had just started to try to sit up, giving her older sister big smiles which always melted Jacqueline’s heart. With the arrival of warmer weather Mariquita took the children to the park, Anne pushing the pram and taking charge of the baby. Mariquita watched them playing from a park bench, with Anne throwing the ball, calling out ‘butterfingers’ when they dropped it.

Despite her life being fairly easy Mariquita was discontented. This was not the life she wished to lead; soon she would have to do something about it.

Two

The move to Brighton

John Nearne arrived home a little after six o’clock each night and was not in the habit of discussing his day. Once the evening meal was over he always went to the sitting room and started to read his latest book, while his wife supervised the evening chores.

Tonight Mariquita was determined to have her say, leaving Anne to read a bedtime story to the children. When she sat down in the armchair opposite her husband she felt rather uneasy. Suppose he were to say no?

Knowing how he hated to be disturbed, she hesitated before saying, There is something I want to speak to you about, John.

Very well, he answered, now he was likely to lose the thread of the story.

Taking a deep breath, she replied, I want to go back to live in our house in Brighton. There. It was out and she felt all the better for it.

For a few moments John turned this over in his mind, thinking it was probably not such a bad idea. Then he said slowly, I think that can be arranged. The smog here can’t be very good for the children’s lungs.

Darting across the room, Mariquita flung her arms about his neck. Thank you. Oh, thank you!

She was so beautiful that he hugged her back, saying, Let’s leave it until the warmer weather, say around the end of August time?

Mariquita felt happier than she had been in a long time; once they moved back into their own house at Brighton she thought she would feel a lot better.

And so the first part of the summer sped by as slowly all the household things they did not often use were packed into boxes, with the list of contents written on the outside. Then came the day to leave.

Anne, the maid, had been generously paid her wages in full even though she had not completed a year’s work. For days she had wept, having got fond of the children and not wishing to see them leave. When she left, the family watched her out of sight as she lugged her heavy case along Perham Road.

John shut and locked the door of number 58 Perham Road for the last time. He had been happy enough there. However, it would be nice living by the sea again and breathing in the bracing air. They started off down Vereker Road, turning left into Normand Road where they caught a bus.

At London Bridge Station they hired a baggage handler to put their cases on to the train, which helped a lot as the older children were highly excited, and the youngest bewildered at all the noise and bustle of the crowds. Eileen jumped and began to cry when a train in the sidings suddenly let off steam, while Frederick clung to his mother’s long skirt, occasionally peering up at her for reassurance.

They managed to find a carriage with adequate seating and with only one other passenger, an elderly woman sitting next to the window who smiled pleasantly at them.

The whistle went and gradually the train moved off on what was normally a four hour journey to Brighton. Mariquita sat back in her seat and relaxed, happy to be leaving London, while John read the newspaper he had bought from a news-stand.

What a lovely family you have. Such beautiful children, their fellow passenger remarked, taking little Frederick on her knee to point out everything that could be seen as they journeyed onwards. Opposite her Francis and Jacqueline stared out, whispering to each other as they did not wish their father to tell them to keep down the noise. Eileen was laid down on the seat where she soon fell asleep lulled by the constant rhythm of the train.

Halfway through the journey Mariquita produced sandwiches and a bottle of water to drink as it was growing hotter. Bright dazzling sunlight shone through the carriage window, making it humid and stuffy. The window was opened just a little way, with the children warned how dangerous it was to stick their heads out.

They arrived at Brighton Station at just after three o’clock in the afternoon. By now all the children were getting fractious. There were crowds of holiday-makers everywhere but John managed to find an open-air cab to take them home.

Mariquita felt a burst of happiness when they turned into Buckingham Road then took the turning first left into West Hill Street, and stopped just around the corner outside number 52. They were home!

West Hill Street was a quiet place, the long row of terraced houses styled exactly the same, all painted in whitewash. This was quite a select area where, like the Nearnes, many of the people were lucky enough to own their own properties. The front gardens leading into the street were small and concreted over, most containing pots of flowers to be tended.

There were three steps leading down from the front door of number 52 covered in black and white tiles. This gave it a smart appearance, and was fashionable. Low walls with painted brick squares stood either side of the black iron gates leading into the street. These houses were of the simple design of the day, the large bay windows on the upper and lower floors giving off an air of elegance.

Number 52 was already furnished so all that had to be done was to unpack the boxes that had arrived from Fulham a few days earlier. Francis, Jacqueline and Frederick ran round exploring the house, running up the stairs to the bedrooms to find out where they were going to sleep. Meanwhile six-month-old Eileen lay contentedly in her pram, her beautiful blue eyes watching the shadows moving slowly across the ceiling. Her mother was always telling people, "I am so glad she is a contented child, it makes life so much easier".

John noticed how quiet it was here, with not so many children playing in the street and the traffic almost non-existent. The next morning he set off to the nearest small shop in the next street which sold just about everything. After consulting his list he was able to find even the nails he needed to put up some shelves for the children. Tinned sweetened milk would have to do for now until he could catch the milkman.

As he went out of the door he noticed a small advert saying, ‘Girl of fifteen needs job, would like to look after children’. Noting down the name and address he made a detour home to personally go and answer it. Strike while the iron’s hot was his motto.

And that was how Elsie was hired. She was rather slow in her ways but the children liked her right from the start. And so the Nearne family took up their old life as if they had never been away. Francis was now seven and Jacqueline five years old and they would have started at the local school, possibly a Catholic one as that was the Nearnes’ religion. If it was nearby Elsie would have taken them as part of her duties.

Weekends were looked forward to as there was a lot going on in Brighton at the time, the most enjoyable thing being a trip to the beach. The buses were regular, arriving every ten minutes, so if you missed one it was not long before the next came along.

On Sundays it is more than likely that belonging to the Catholic faith the family would have attended the main service at St Nicholas’ Church in Dyke Road. Built of flint and stone dressings, it was said to date back to before 1170. The beautiful font of Caen stone is thought to have been carved around 1170. Three of the four scenes depicted, though worn with age, were ‘The last supper’, ‘The baptism of our Lord’ and ‘The legend of Saint Nicholas’. Another feature was the rood screen, a fine example of carving in oak, dating from the 1400s. All over Brighton the peal of ten bells being rung before the Parish Eucharist could be heard, a familiar sound which many cherished.

Brighton had become very popular to visit for a summer holiday, especially for those living in London who wanted to get away from the city to a gentler way of living, even if it was only for a few days. Those who could afford it stayed in the Grand Hotel, situated on the sea front between the two piers. Nightly its blue lights would shine prominently out along the foreshore, causing wonderful reflections in the water.

Those less well off stayed in the many boarding houses along the front or tucked away up side streets. Here the landladies welcomed them and their children with open arms, eager to make a profit while summer lasted. For them winter could be a very lean time.

John, Mariquita and their four children are sure to have walked along the promenade, with the sea to one side and a row of shops, art, cafés and seafood stalls on the other, all doing a brisk trade. Stands placed outside were filled with saucy postcards, which had become very popular to send back to one’s relatives, causing much merriment. Further on were small houses, rented out for those who wanted privacy and a good view of the sea.

The majority of people visited Palace Pier, featuring a funfair, restaurants and arcade halls. For children and grown-ups alike it was noisy but exciting, with flashing lights and bells rung to attract the attention. There was a huge steam engine that drove the rides, letting off clouds of steam, and for the more fearless the ghost trains, meant to terrify.

There were many sideshow attractions, where men stood outside loudly shouting out, describing what was going on