大象传媒

Having tried to protect us in the Anderson shelter(which was always ankle deep in water), the brick built surface shelter (which had a concrete roof on it) and finally the Underground station at Stockwell, my Mother, who was a single parent decided that my Grandfather was the best person to take me her four-year-old to Paddington station and put me on the first train that was leaving for the country. As I was too young to go to school, wasn't a member of a church group or any other organisation it was a bit of a problem, or rather I was! My Grandfather left me astride my cardboard case whilst he had a chat with the station master. Can you imagine that situation on a heaving platform with all the chaos of children, frantic relatives and military personnel. A hurried "goodbye" to Gramps, who was never one to show any emotion, and I was handed over to the Guard and sat in the guards van.
It is surprising just how many small things a child remembers such as wondering why I had spotted my Mothers face reflected in the mirror looking tearful when she lifted me to kiss me. Why did I now feel a panic as I sat with the strange man on the train. He must have sensed it too for after a while he took me to sit with a woman who had a group of small children with her and when I cried she gave me a fresh white handkerchief with a scottie dog embroidered on the corner and told me to keep it. The rest of the journey was pretty much as any other but the object of this tale is that on my arrival to Talbot Green my life began.

I had been the last child off the coach and was taken by the billeting officer to his house only to find that his wife had taken in twin boys so I went next door. Mr. & Mrs. Davies were so welcoming and as I had come from a very poor flat in London, their neat little terraced cottage seemed like paradise to me even then. They had one daughter, Gwen, who was fourteen and from day one I loved her as a sister. Auntie Letty and Uncle Will had me for four years, until I was eight years old and in all that time my Mother nor any of my family were able to visit. Sadly, I just forgot about them even though Auntie always remembered them in our prayers before we slept. They nursed me through childhood ailments, developed my interests in flora and reading. Uncle worked in the pits making pit props and with odd bits of wood he would make little toys for me. I think I must have been the luckiest evacuee.
Early in the morning I would sometimes get my stocking-net and a jam jar and go off over the damp fields, barefoot, that were full of small chirping frogs to a stream I knew that was full of interesting things. I would lose all sense of time but was safe enough and when I got back we would all examine the sticklebacks and water boatman. It was wonderful. Best of all was Uncle's patch of garden at the back of the cottage which was open to the rest of the neighbours. They would all come out to talk and one lady made peppermint stick with powdered milk which tasted very good indeed. Uncle would let me pick spring onions and a small lettuce for my supper sometimes and also red and blackcurrants, which still remind me of those days. They looked like precious little jewels hanging from the bushes. I had so many happy times with them all and first started school there in the village. My first trip to the sea at Barry. First panto in Cardiff and saw Shine on Harvest Moon at the cinema which magically changed from Black and White into Colour - how wonderful was that? I went to a picture club on Saturday morning with my friends on a bus and felt so grown up. I was so lucky. I know that there were letters passing too and fro concerning my Mothers situation in London, which was not at all good, and Mr. & Mrs.Davies were keen to adopt me. It seemed that my Mother's life had become very complicated for many reasons. Sadly, when I did go home my Mother picked me up at a reception centre in Kennington and I never believed that she was really my Mother. Added to which, I had acquired a one year old sister who came as a complete surprise! There was very little help then for a mother on her own and as a consequence I was always being farmed off to "aunties" which made me feel that I was in the way. I yearned for Auntie Letty but couldn't say so. My mother was having a hard time working all day and several evenings a week as well. We would walk together from Stockwell to a dingy office in Vauxhall to see the Relief Officer, a government official who had been to our home to assess everything we had. He advised my mother to sell her precious little radio in order to get some extra money for food! How times have changed. I never did become close to my family again, which was nobody's fault, just another kind of casualty of the war but another reason why we should try to avoid war at all costs.

This is my memory of the Underground Shelter to end on:

The last train grumbles down the tunnel
Like thick black liquid gurgling down the drain.
A signal for the "magic" beds appearing
And so we play the game of sleep again.
The windy women, popping eyes a- glowing
As fat bats waking, garrulous in the night,
Compete in skills of artless airbed blowing
Whilst puny men and children mime the sight.
The job completed, blotter blankets spread
To trap the "catch" that wriggles on the ground.
All conflict is forgotten as they shed
The barrier of reserve that first was found.
Heartbeat near heartbeat rouses no emotion
No time for loving, children must delay
Craving affection when they have a notion.
Keep love, protect it for a better day.
So passes night away, fretful and lusty.
Gaunt faces reluctantly greet the new day.
Then bundle up bedding that's meagre and dusty
To disappear silently, each their own way.

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