Family

 

"Pat - My Sister" by Gordon Nickson

 

As young children, we were a close and loving family of five children with Mum and Dad enjoying a good family life in spite of the hardships around us due to the war years and about which we had no knowledge at the time. Until Pat was born, there were only three children in the family and my first knowledge of her arrival was when I became very upset because 'Mummy was going away to get a new baby and would not be at home for her birthday on July 7th'. (Which also became Pat's birthday!).

 

We were all good friends most of the time but as we got older, the girls naturally tended to become separate as age differences became more significant. When Pat was eleven (1955), I was in the process of an apprenticeship in the army while our older brother was already away in the merchant navy. This meant that we became remote from each other and her activities and progress became of less interest to me although we saw each other for short periods during my leaves.

 

Within a year or two, we all lost our father which was a very great loss to all of us and made life difficult for our mother and especially our two young sisters (Pat and Marion), who were still at school. It was then, due to our father's previous connections, that the two young girls',(Pat and Marion), education was put in the capable hands of The Royal Masonic Institute for Girls in Rickmansworth where they boarded making our contact with Pat even more infrequent. Shortly after this, our mother died and I being the second son was made Pat's guardian until she became of age because our brother was away at sea most of the time while I was still training in England.

 

As a young soldier of only seventeen years, I met a girl who became a dear family friend spending time at our home as part of the family while she was nursing training in Central Middlesex Hospital London and who was taken as an example by Pat who also then started her nursing training there.

 

At this stage in our lives we both moved apart, travelling in different directions round the world as our careers took us and only meeting at infrequent times and places.

 

Of course we all know of Pat's mission work and her dedication to humanity and God. She also had the same dedication to her family throughout her life. Later as both she and I came back to England, me towards retirement and her for more study and dedication to her two most important goals in life, we began to see more of each other and became much closer using each other for support that can only come from a close family relationship. I always hope that I was able to give that support. I know that I certainly did receive it and benefitted from it.

 

Since Pat's passing, it has become obvious to me how close we actually are. I say 'are', as that is the way I still feel it is.

 

"Pat - My Sister" by Nikki Cranston

 

My sister Pat and I were part of a family of five children and two wonderful parents. It was natural that we always played together. We were close in our ages and the youngest two of the children. Our mum dressed us alike, we looked alike and at that age, we enjoyed similar things. All children, sixty years ago, used their imaginations, made good use of their freedom and were inventive in their games. We were no different, never relying or expecting much in the way of shop bought entertainment or time in front of a television. That particular treat waited for us each Saturday afternoon, when we’d finished the shopping in town (Eastbourne) and would arrive at Granny’s house for tea and T.V. Our father didn’t ever buy a television set – it’s true that we really didn’t need one. But Granny and Granddad had three in their house in the fifties!

 

Our branch of the Nickson family lived at the foot of the South Downs and we all made full use of this gift of nature. It was our constant playground. Our mother never seemed to worry too much about us and we were free to roam all day or until we got hungry. There was a wonderful wood to walk in and a chalk pit where I learned to smoke jackwood. Pat too, I suspect! There were cattle and sheep and their offspring and every now and then in the winter, a foxhunt. We always hoped the family of foxes we had found in the spring were never detected, but couldn’t help but be impressed by the horses and hounds, the sound of the bugle and the spectacle of the hunt. When there was a late cold season, farmers used to make shelters from straw bales for sheep and new born lambs. If the downs were covered by snow, my father inveigled us all to try out the sleds his woodwork class had made. With metal runners these were always very fast and thinking back, quite dangerous! But he would follow us up there, laden with sandwiches and a thermos of hot tomato soup. And nearly always, a camera. Our father was quite an ‘old’ dad – Pat was born when he was 55 and I when he was 57. But his age took nothing from him as a parent. He filled our lives with adventure and interest and when he died at 65, the loss seemed insurmountable. Our mum was left with five children to rear, in a small cottage with a large garden.

 

Before our father died, one of our family holidays was in France. I was four years old and Pat, six. I remember it quite well for several reasons, one of which is that I finished off quite a number of champagne glasses, after a lunch with friends! Our parents made us always do our own shopping for ice cream, and ask for it in French of course. But my reason for including this snippet, is that Pat contracted Polio’ in France, so on arrival back home, was confined to bed for weeks and weeks. She never did have to go to hospital, but was affected by paralysis to her legs for a while and when the worst was over, she grew very tired very easily for some years after.

 

Other outings our father indulged us with were afternoons at Barkham Mills, where there is a river meandering through fields and woods. Canoes were for hire there – all the family really loved this pastime – we sometimes took our cousins from Hampshire when they visited. To this day we all have a love of boats and water – and so had Pat. She tried out my small kayak when she visited us here in Australia for the last time. She was so ill, but never faltered in her resolve to go out on the water at Cannons Creek, where my son Luke lives. We had loads of fun – Pat fell in several times but no harm was done and the temperature was probably somewhere in the high 30c’s. We took the ferry across the bay to try to spot some dolphins – but mostly just to be out on the water.

 

At our cottage in Sussex was a stream running through the garden. Our father was meticulous with its care, spooning out built up mud with a home (or school) made out- sized soup ladle. The stream was full with beautiful fresh watercress, which we rather took for granted. The cows from the paddock often wandered in, mistaking the greenness for long, fresh grass. We ate watercress with our tea, almost every summer evening. What I would give to have access to fresh watercress these days. I never see it in shops where I now live. The stream was a focal point for visiting kids, who nearly always ended up in the water, fully clothed. One of the willow trees over the deepest part, made a great pretend horse for Pat and I, as it dipped and swayed with each gust of wind.

 

Which brings me to another much loved past time for us both. Pat and I both loved horses and rode at the local stables whenever we could afford to. Our father had started us off with a small pony which belonged to friends whose son was not in the least bit interested in riding. He had promised to try to buy one of the pit ponies which were at last coming up from the mines, but he died too soon to do anything about that. Our mum made sure we had our rides, during school holidays. We both continued our love of, and interest in, horses and riding in later years and I have many photos and some old movies of us riding my family’s horses here. I treasure them.

 

Pat and I attended the Royal Masonic School for Girls, after our father died. My brothers were at about leaving school age and our sister Elizabeth, who lives in Canada now, was established at an Eastbourne school and beginning to plan her career. Pat took to boarding school really well – I think she loved nearly everything about it. She was a very easy going child, very pleasant to know, with extremely polite manners. She didn’t work at being ‘nice’ or ‘good’ – she just was. I knew it, and so did everything I could to be the opposite! Poor Pat – what she had to put up with from her really naughty, younger sister. I hope she knows now, how apologetic I am. She always worked so hard. Academia wasn’t particularly easy for Pat, but she made sure she would get through, by sheer hard work. She was the winner of our ‘Academic and Assiduity prize’, which gave us a laugh every time we reminisced!

 

Pat always enjoyed music. Our wonderful school encouraged a love of the arts anyway and we were lucky enough to experience many a fledgling concert musician, giving recitals at school. Pat played piano, violin, viola, flute and organ, but excelled at the stringed instruments and was part of the senior orchestra and choir, while I played piano and laboured at the ‘cello in the junior orchestra, but was OK in the choir. Pat, in fact, won the prize for singing, one year. Our parents were fairly musical as most people of their generation seemed to be. Mum was an excellent violinist and had earnt extra money, playing her violin at the silent movies at the local picture theatre!

 

Our mother died whilst we were at school. I have in my possession since Pat has passed away, the other (important) half of a letter she wrote to us, two days before. In it she tells us that she has had to go to hospital, but not to worry as it shouldn’t interfere with a music camp Pat was interested in attending, during the summer holiday. After mum died and we attended her funeral, Pat returned to school to finish her GCE exams, which she passed of course, as she was determined to do and following her final year of school, began her training as a nurse at Central Middlesex Hospital. Neither of us ever received any sort of counseling and I don’t think anyone (except our wonderful brothers and sister, who themselves were still young) ever talked to us about our loss. Pat’s resolve to work as a medical missionary grew stronger and as many people know, she went on to do great work in the name of her God. Pat considered herself privileged to be involved in what became her life’s work and privileged beyond compare to have been befriended by so many wonderful people, from the most humble to the most exalted.

 

And from every one of the people who touched her life, she learnt something and was amazed by it.

 

My brother Gordon and my sister Elizabeth and I, miss Pat very much, but are grateful for her life within our family.

 

Nikki (Marion) Cranston