My guest
today is Kate Thompson who tells us the fascinating story of a woman with whom
she shares her name. I was gripped when I read it, as I am sure you will be. Kate’s
first novel,
Secrets
of the Singer Girls, is a nostalgic wartime saga set in an East End garment
factory and was published in March by Pan Macmillan.
For
fifteen years, Kate worked as a journalist for national newspapers and
magazines like the Daily Express and IPC’s true-life weekly Pick Me Up, before
going freelance four years ago. She now combines freelance journalism with
writing and is currently working on a prequel to Secrets of the Singer Girls, provisionally entitled, Secrets of the
Sewing Bee.
Kate
lives in Twickenham, Greater London, with her husband, two boisterous,
energetic young boys and an escape-artist miniature Jack Russell called
Twinkle. When she’s not chasing after her sons or Twinkle, she is to be found
locked in the office at the end of the garden trying to write, on research
trips in London’s East End, or slumped on the settee with a glass of red wine.
Here is a
piece Kate has written about the inspiration behind Secrets of the Singer Girls.
The chilling moment I
discovered I was a victim of a
wartime tragedy!
Staring
down the stairway that leads into London’s Bethnal Green Tube Station, I found
myself about to be taken on a journey back in time.
On a spring day with streams of
commuters descending the stairs, nothing could look more ordinary, but
seventy-two years ago, tragedy unfolded on those steps. Little is known of the
biggest civilian disaster of the Second World War, but in less than 30 seconds,
173 people, were crushed to death on the stairway that led down to what was
then an underground shelter.
Not a single German bomb was
dropped but, in the time it took for the air raid siren to sound, the narrow
corridor was converted into a charnel house as a horrifying crush of people
piled helplessly one on top of another. After the searchlights went on, an
anti-aircraft battery in nearby Victoria Park launched a salvo of new rockets
and, fearing a bomb, the crowd surged forward. A mother carrying a baby tripped
on the stairs and, like a pack of cards, the shelterers fell, one by one. The
scenes were unimaginable on that bleak March night in 1943.
My reason for wanting to visit the
sight where so many people died wasn’t born out of morbid curiosity, however. I
was there to research it as I had already decided to feature the Tube disaster
in the novel I was writing. Set in the East End of London, Secrets of the Singer Girls attempts to unravel the mysteries that
bind four machinists who work sewing Navy and Army uniforms for the troops. The
research I had already conducted revealed a world of poverty, grim survival,
immense bravery and human tragedy in wartime Bethnal Green. But it was
discovering that I shared a name with a victim who died in the disaster which leant
a deep poignancy to my research. Just who was the other Kate Thompson, and what
led her to flee to the so-called sanctuary of the underground that fateful day?
Cursory research did not bode well.
Kate was at the Black Horse pub in her favourite fur-collared coat when the
sirens went off. She was a 63-year-old mother of nine, living in one of Bethnal
Green’s roughest areas, when she perished. It would be easy to dismiss Kate as
a victim battling for survival but to do so would be foolish. A closer
examination into her life revealed some surprising results.
Kate Hammersley was born in September
1880 in Poplar, East London. At the age of 18, she married William Thompson,
and moved to Bethnal Green, where she bore him seven sons and two daughters.
They resided at Quinn Square in Russia Lane. Pre-war, Bethnal Green housed some
of the worst slums in London and, of them, one of the most notorious was Quinn
Square, a place where locals say you never went after dark and policemen only
dared visit in pairs. Some of the flats contained illegal gambling dens and
when the police were about, quick-witted residents would whistle off the
balconies.
None of the flats had their own
water taps or toilets, and tenants shared facilities on the landing between
four families. Washhouse facilities were housed on the roof, and the women of
the Square had to drag their laundry up six flights. According to one local
resident, the stench from the toilets was unholy. Perhaps that’s why Russia
Lane had its own bathing centre, known as a Personal Cleansing Station. So far,
so depressing.
By August 1938, Kate Thompson and
many others lived in a squalid, dilapidated hellhole. Residents reported broken
steps, lavatory doors with no locks and broken facilities in the washhouse. Not
only that, but the landlords were having a merry time at their expense,
charging exorbitant rents for such miserly facilities. How did the feisty women
of Quinn Square put up with this? The answer is, they didn’t.
According to the electoral
register, Kate was registered to vote from as early as 1923. Perhaps it was
this interest in politics that lead Kate to insist on her right to a decent
standard of living. Far from being a dormant victim, Kate and the other
residents promptly formed a Tenants Association and flatly refused to pay their
rents until the rapacious landlords reduced them to more reasonable levels.
One landlord responded by
attempting to evict a tenant. When the agent arrived on eviction day, the
tenants, wielding placards and chanting, ‘Less Rent, More Repairs’, barred their
way and the landlord was forced to beat a hasty retreat. The biggest rent
strike ever seen in the East End sent the press wild.
Buoyed by their success, the
tenants of Quinn Square paraded around Bethnal Green with their placards and
picketed the estate office. Apparently, every time the landlord went into the
Square – on one occasion even accompanied by a group of Sir Oswald Mosley’s
fascists, who attempted to break up the tenants meeting by organised
hooliganism – a huge crowd of women followed them and booed them out of Russia
Lane, pelting them with hot potatoes. And so it was that Kate and her
neighbours scored a resounding victory for the working-class underdogs of Quinn
Square. It would take more than an unscrupulous
landlord and some bullyboy fascists to scare them into submission. The
landlords acceded to their demands to lower the rent and carry out repairs, and
the test case for arrears of rent made history, paving the way for success for
other Tenants Associations. A year later, war broke out, and Kate began the
second great fight of her life.
Quinn Square was demolished in the
1960s, but I believe Kate’s legacy remains today. It proves that you should never underestimate the fighting power
of a woman when her home and her family are under threat – 1938 or 2015, it
matters not, a mother will fight tooth and nail to protect the roof over her
children’s heads.
The other Kate wasn’t afraid to
stand up to corrupt landlords and fascists marching on her street. My 1940s
namesake was a far stronger, finer lady than I. Indeed, it would appear that a
love of a fur collar is about all we have in common. I wish I had one ounce of
her courage and pluck.
Secrets of the Singer
Girls
is out now, published by Pan Macmillan
Thank
you for featuring me on your blog, Natalie.
I’m so glad you could join me, Kate. What a fascinating tale. I
can’t wait now to read the book
Links:
Email:
katethompson380@hotmail.com
Website:
www.katethompsonmedia.co.uk
Twitter:
@katethompson380 or https://twitter.com/SingerSecrets
It sounds like a marvellous book after meticulous research. Thank you for introducing us, Natalie. Best wishes, Kate, Moya
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