This summer, my husband Robert began a small family project that took shape in July during his cousin Lisa’s visit. One long summer evening, while listening to Lisa and Robert trade family stories and old gossip, I suddenly remembered that I had, tucked away in a safe place, their grandmother’s memoir. Robert had shown it to me more than twenty years ago, and—as writers often do—I had preserved it carefully. There is something profoundly moving about the handwritten word: so fragile, yet so enduring.

The memoir, written by Veronica Kay after her children had grown and left home, chronicles her life as a wife and mother in Liverpool beginning in the 1930s. Now transcribed, it stands as a heart-wrenching story many women will find deeply relatable. Veronica’s words capture the essence of selflessness, loss, and loneliness—a reflection of the hardships and sacrifices endured by mothers and grandmothers of her generation. Though not long, it is a memoir I return to again and again. The brief paragraphs she wrote before bedtime are simple yet striking in their poignancy.

We’re delighted to share that the paperback is now available on Amazon, and the Kindle edition is ready for preorder, to be released on September 28th. In the meantime, here is a little snippet.

https://mybook.to/LiverpoolMother

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Well, it was the year 1930, the 3^rd of December, when I left my Mother’s house to marry Edward Witham, who I had only known for ten months. He was tall and older than me by ten years. I fell for him. I really didn’t know him or what I was letting myself in for. But them days, and at 17 years of age, we knew very little. I was brought up strict. Do as you’re told. No freedom.

So that’s why I left home, unknown to my Mother, as I thought that she didn’t know I was getting married.

But she did know.

***

So, when I came out of the Registry Office, I was shocked to find her and my sister waiting outside. My Mother had never met the man I had just married. I walked up to her, while the man I had just married turned away and walked off with his mate and my, then sister-in-law, Marie.

My Mother looked at me with such hurt and anguish on her face, and mad as a hatter at what I had done and who I had married. She said God will punish you for the hurt and upset I had caused. I started to cry.

I said, “I’m sorry Mam.”

She said, “You don’t know what you have done, you stupid child. You don’t know what you have let yourself in for.”

I did not understand those words at the time. But it did not take me very long to find out.

So, after saying, “Sorry Mam”, I walked away and went to join my Husband and company.

My heart felt heavy. My eyes full of tears. My wedding day. One I will never forget. My Mother didn’t want to know me anymore. What had I done?

“I was soon to find out.”

My Husband took us back to his Mother’s. She had a bit of a spread for us. As for me, I could not eat. All I did was cry. That was one day I will never forget. Also, I had told the man I married that I was going to have his child, which was untrue. So, my Husband did not marry me because he loved me.

I soon found that out.

Well, the day I got married, we had nowhere to live. So, my sister-in-law and I went looking for somewhere to stay, which was a furnished room. [It] consisted of a bed, table, two chairs, sofa, and some dishes. The rent was ten shillings a week. Gas and lights you paid as you used it. No cooker. A small fire-grate to cook on. No cooking utensils.

Of course, my Husband and his mate got drunk. So, it was not a happy Event. Next day, my Husband gave me a few shillings to buy a couple of pans, soap, towel, and some food.

So, my married life began.

***

While I was pregnant, we had to move house; no children allowed. Went to another furnished room. Much nicer. Very clean. Bed linen was nice and white.

So, it was there that I carried my firstborn. I remember I had been to see my Mam in the afternoon. But I was restless. So, I went home about three o’clock. My water broke. I remember being confused. Did not know what to do. I lay down on top of the bed. I must have dozed off when my Husband came home. He took me to the Hospital and the next day, twelve fifteen, I gave birth. Eight pounds, two ounces, little girl. I was in Hospital for ten days, and then my life began. I was eighteen years of age. I had to manage to look after the baby.

They taught [me] in Hospital how to hold the baby when you bathed it. So I got on alright. I was happy with my baby, and my Husband got an extra three shillings a week for the baby. So that meant twenty-nine shillings a week for three of us. I suppose I should have counted myself lucky. I was getting an extra ten shillings off my Husband for loading coal. So, the amount weekly then was thirty-nine shillings a week, to pay out rent twelve shillings, gas eight shillings a week, food and clothes. Of course, I had to go around the second-hand shops for those.

***

All too soon, fifteen months later, I gave birth to a son, six pounds thirteen ozs. with red hair, where Audrey was dark. They were two beautiful children. The boy, I called Edward, after his Father.

I remember Ted coming into the Hospital to see the baby. He looked at him and said, “Where does he get the red hair from?”

I said, “I don’t know.”

He laughed. The joke was on me. I had red hair.

Well, two children to look after and, wait for it, another three shillings for the new baby.

***

I must go back to when I was eight months pregnant with my firstborn. It was a Saturday night. He [Ted] was out boozing as usual. I couldn’t go to bed; I had to let him in. I was only allowed one Key, and seeing I went to see my Mam, I had to let myself in. He was late. It was about twelve o’clock. He still wasn’t home.

I could not settle, so I put my coat on over my pyjamas and went to the pub, looking to see if he was talking outside.

I’ll never forget that night. It was raining heavy. I stood opposite the pub. He wasn’t there. Just then, the door to the house part [of the pub] opened and there he was. He had been playing cards with the landlord.

When he saw me, he said, “What the so-and-so are you doing here?”

He pushed me. I slipped and fell on my back. He just walked away and left me to get myself to my feet. When I got to the front door, he snatched the Key out of my hand, opened the door, and then shut it in my face. I crossed over the road and watched him light the gas jet, put it out, and get into bed. So, that was it. It was about one o’clock then. I didn’t have far to go to my Mam’s. I knocked on the door.

My Dad opened it and said, “What the hell!”

He said, “Come in, Cock.”

So, I lay on my Mother’s couch all night, not sleeping.

Next morning, which was Sunday, Mam said, “You are not going back to that Swine.”

But I did.

I got my sister, Lily, to go with me, looking for him. He was with his Father, pigeon racing. My sister spoke to him. He wasn’t pleased.

He took me back to the apartment, and I shall never forget him saying, “Remember, I didn’t ask you to come back.”

I was so hurt. After, he went out again, to the pub. That’s all he ever lived for. Himself.

I cried buckets that day.

***

Well, time went on, and Vera was twelve months old when Germany was at war with the British. Then things started to happen. Air raids. I had three kids that had to be evacuated. Audrey, Teddy, and Rosa. And then Ted was called up. I was left with Jean and Vera. I got two pounds a week from the army. I had to take the two kids every week and travel to North Wales to see my three kids. Take them some clothes and shoes, and they were half fed. So, I brought them back home.

I thought, “No one is going to treat my kids like that.”

Well, the war got worse. Bombs dropping. Gunfire. Frightened the life out of us. As soon as you heard the air raid siren, you started to duck, in case you got one.

***

My poor Dad took bad. Rolling on the floor in agony all night. Couldn’t get a doctor to come out. Had to stand by for the air raid casualties.

We finally got him into Hospital. He was a goner. Two days. Perforated ulcers. What a shock to us all. My poor Mam, she was lost. Speaking for myself, I was overcome with Grief.

I loved my Dad very much.

***

Well, Mam took to a sickbed with cancer, and while she was ill, she received a telegram from the War Office informing her that her Son, Robert Kay, had been killed in action. Well, she took off screaming. Ran out of the house into the road in her night attire. We all thought she had lost her senses, which I am sure she had.

He was only twenty-six years of age.

Well, Mam started to go downhill, then we lost her. What a loss!

***

I must tell you that when my daughter Rosa was sixteen years of age, she took ill. I went into her bedroom, this morning, to get her up for work, and she had been vomiting all night.

When I saw the colour of it, dark green, I thought “I don’t like that.”

So, I got the doctor in. He said it was most probably her monthly. As the day wore on, she got no better.

I said to myself, “Sod this.”

So, I got him in again. He said he couldn’t find anything wrong.

I said, “Do me a favour, will you and get her into hospital straight away?”

So he did. I went in the ambulance with her and then the sister in the Hospital, which was Smithdown Road Hospital.

He  said, “Come back tonight and we will let you know what’s wrong with your daughter.”

The shock was [that] she had meningitis. Those days, they were dying like flies with it.

That was 1950.

Well, what a time we all had. The worry over her. She was picking up fine, and then low and behold, she had her 17^th birthday and two weeks after she collapsed. The next thing, she didn’t know what she was doing. She started to dirty the bed. The next thing, they sent for a brain specialist from Walton Hospital, and the next thing, she was whisked off to Walton Hospital for a brain operation. Oh my God, what a time that was!

I thought, “Oh my God, I’m going to lose her.”

First time I ever saw or heard her Father get on his knees and pray. Of course, the vicar was there.

I never prayed so hard in my life, “Please God, make my daughter well.”

And after the op[eration], she said, “Hello Mam.”

“Oh, thank God”, I said, with the tears choking me.

So, altogether, it took twelve months for her to recover, and now, today, the year 1989, she is fifty-four years of age and married with children and grandchildren.

So, that was an episode in my life, which her and I and her Dad and her sisters and brother will never forget. That happened when we lived in Tunnel Road [2?]7.

***

This is going back to my childhood. Happy days and not happy days. But when you were young, you thought you just had to ask and you got it. Not in our house. You took what you were given, and if you didn’t like it or want it, you never got the chance to change your mind.

But my life was happy, especially when I was about six years old. My Father owned horses and I was very fond of them. I wanted to be a horse woman when I grew up. I loved being among them. They held a fascination for me. They were human. You could talk to them, rubbing their noses against you. They were such lovely beasts. They got used to you, and the dogs, my Dad kept three in all. They were guard dogs.

My Dad had thirty horses, a donkey, a billy goat, a wagon, and a governess-cart to take Mam about in it. Also, he used it to do Business, buying and selling horses. He had some beauties. Big Shire horses, small cart horses, and Jerry, to be put [to] the governess-cart in.

Never a dull moment.

My brothers worked for my Father, and on the side of the wagon it said: “James Kay and Sons. Hauliers, Contractors.”

Hard working family and no Mistake, and one big Happy Family, till Mam and Dad passed on.

No longer were we the one big Happy Family.

***

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In Her Own Words: A Liverpool Mother’s Life, Veronica Kay offers a powerful and unfiltered account of a life shaped by hardship and quiet determination. From her early years in Liverpool through war, marriage, motherhood, and personal loss, she records the events of her life with emotional clarity and unwavering honesty.

Written in plain, evocative language, this memoir captures the struggles and triumphs of an ordinary woman whose story speaks to an entire generation. Kay’s voice is unmistakably her own.

She is direct, unsentimental, and profoundly human.

This is not a celebrity memoir. It is something far rarer: the lived truth of a woman who survived, endured, and remembered. Her Own Words: A Liverpool Mother’s Life is a record of a working-class life, a mother’s love, and the quiet courage it takes to keep going.

Available in all Amazon store as Kindle and paperback: https://mybook.to/LiverpoolMother