大象传媒

My story starts in September 1938. I was 9 years old living in Peckham, South East London with my mother, who was a widow and my two brothers aged 14 and 12. We were all sitting in the kitchen, the kit bags for Roy and myself were packed for evacuation when we heard the cries of the newsboys 鈥渓ate night special, peace in our time!鈥� We all rushed out into the street for the paper. I can see my mother now, tears running down her face, saying 鈥渢hank God there will be no war鈥�. My mother knew all about war as she lost her father and brother in the First World War. I can remember to this day the intense joy and relief that we did not have to go away from home.

Unfortunately it was to be short lived. One year later, on the 1st of September, we, my brother and I, 13 an 10 years old, were ready once again to be evacuated. I was to go with my brother鈥檚 school, Coles Road Boys School, as my mother was a widow and had to work to keep us. She was a school cleaner. That meant she started work at 7 a.m. My brother was left with instructions to look after me. We said our good-byes, were told to behave ourselves. We had to be at Queen鈥檚 Road station at eight to meet up with the other children. Half way between Cole Road School and the station my mother caught up with us. She had decided to see us safe and sound onto the train.

I can鈥檛 remember much of the train journey itself but hours later we arrived in Shoreham-by- Sea. We were marched off to a big grey building and learned later that it was an orphanage. There we were lined up, girls on one side, boys on the other. The first stop was with 鈥楴itty Nora鈥� the nurse who looked in your hair for head lice. We were found to be clean. We moved on to be given a strong brown bag, we walked down a long row of people who gave us provisions. Some of the things I can remember: a tin of corned beef; tinned milk; a packet of very hard biscuits and a bar of plain chocolate. I was reunited with my brother and in a line of children we were marched off to meet the families who were to take us in. We were about halfway down the line of children who were directed into the first road. The group stopped at every house the first or second in the row, depending on how many could be billeted, were taken up the path and introduced to their hosts. Gradually the line shortened, until we were the first children. Only my brother was taken up the path. We looked at each other, and he said, 鈥渨e have to stay together鈥�. 鈥淣o, these people can only take a boy and your sister is going two houses further, where they can take one girl鈥�. Tears flowed down my cheeks, my brother Roy fought his back as of course he was my big brother. To this day I can still see his face, looking helplessly at me. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l be al right, you鈥檙e not going far away鈥�.

And so I went to Mr. And Mrs C. Very nice people with one daughter aged 21 who lived at home and an older son who lived and worked away. Mr. and Mrs C. I should think were in their late fifties. And so began the 10 months as an evacuee in Shoreham-by-Sea. The weather was beautiful that September, warm, sunny days. We were on the beach swimming when war was officially declared. Every morning we would meet in a church hall and in a group of about 10 or 12 children. As I had been sent away with my brother鈥檚 school I knew no other girls there. There were two sisters living in the house opposite 鈥榤y鈥� house. Peggy and I can鈥檛 remember her sister鈥檚 name. They also came from Peckham, somewhere up the Old Kent Road. There was another girl named Clara. We soon got to know each other. As the weather was so nice we were out with our group teacher. We roamed over the Downs and the town. We went to a small museum and were told interesting things about the surrounding area, Steyning, Cissbury and the Chanctonbury Rings but we still had no school to go to. It was like a holiday except that I missed my mum so much that when we turned back into the road where we were staying, the tears would start flowing. Roy would put his arms round my shoulders. 鈥淒on鈥檛 cry or you鈥檒l make me cry too and that won鈥檛 help either of us鈥�.

After six weeks my Mum came down to see us. Parents were not allowed to come before that, as we had to have a chance to settle in. The coach came into Southwick. We walked along the shore road to meet her, about three miles. I was so happy to see her. We all had lots of questions and answers, smiles and tears. That day passed so quickly and it was soon time to say goodbye once again. After that the coach came down once a month so we had that to look forward to and the letters to each other.

Mrs C. was a keen card player, she took me with her to whist drives if there was no one else at home and once a week to an elderly lady across the road to play cribbage. She also took me to football matches when Shoreham played at home. Mrs. C. also smoked and I was sent regularly to the shop for a tin of 鈥淐raven A鈥� cigarettes.

Mr C. was a quiet, kindly man. He took me to see his mother who was bedridden. The first time I went she asked me if I could sing 鈥淭he last rose of summer鈥�. I shook my head and said no. 鈥淣ever mind鈥�, she said, 鈥淚鈥檒l sing it to you鈥�. Which she did in a quavering voice. When she was finished I was given an acid drop for listening so nicely. Mr C. also had a big brass telescope, which he set up in the garden one moonlit night. He showed me the moon and stars and told me about their names.

Toward the end of October the weather changed and it was getting colder. Also staying with the family was 鈥楢untie Minnie鈥�, a friend from London with whom I shared a bedroom. She was a lovely lady. I slept on a canvas camp bed and when the cold winter set in I used to get so cold and stiff as I had rheumatism. I would wake up in the middle of the night with pains in my legs and shoulders, but I would try not to cry. Sometimes Auntie Minnie would wake up and take me into her warm bed. Christmas came and my mum sent me a warm bed jacket, which a friend of hers had knitted for her. That, at least, kept my shoulders warm.

My brother Roy was staying with a nice family, Mr. and Mrs. G. and their 7-year-old son Tony. Mr. G. had a bicycle shop at the end of our road. They also had a car. Sometimes on a Sunday they would take Roy for a trip out. I still have a photo of Roy sitting on the bumper of the car. They were very kind to him and I think, looking back, that he was quite at home there. Tony, their son, had a child-sized barrel organ. It was made of light oak or pinewood and it played lovely tunes when you turned the handle. Once or twice I was allowed to play with it. Strangely, as I write this, I can remember being asked into his house but Roy was never invited into mine. I will come back to Mr. and Mrs. G. later on in this story.

Roy got himself a paper round. He was intending to save enough money for our train fare home for a weekend in the spring. In about March 1940 we were getting some schooling. We had to walk to Southwick four times a day. But that didn鈥檛 seem to worry us as we enjoyed the countryside, the church with ivy clad walls, the cows in the fields and most of all the smell of the pink and white hawthorn which grew in abundance along that country lane. I can鈥檛 remember much about the lessons but one thing stands out in my memory is having to take a tablecloth to school to wash and iron and more importantly how to fold for ironing. In the form of an 鈥淢鈥� in the length so that you would have sharp folds along the length of the table. I was told by Mrs. C when I got home that it would have to go straight back in the wash, as there were still stains on it. I was only 10 陆 years old and I had really done my best.

By April Roy had earned enough money for our train fares. His headmaster said that as Hitler was bombing Belgium and Holland he wouldn鈥檛 be allowed to go home. He was told to hand over the train tickets. Roy said he couldn鈥檛 do that as he had promised his sister that we were going home and he couldn鈥檛 break a promise. He was a brave boy but the tickets were taken from him forcefully. Mr. and Mrs. C. later decided to take a chance and let me go home. They bought me a ticket, which my mother paid back later.
I was taken to the station, put in a carriage with people who were travelling to Victoria, who were asked to see me out of the station and on to a tram going to Peckham. Before I left Shoreham I had to promise that I would come back, as my hosts would be in trouble.
I really can鈥檛 remember much about that weekend, only thinking about having to go back to Shoreham, which I did on the Tuesday.
One morning we were surprised to see lots soldiers (Kings own Scottish Borders, all bedraggled and tired , they were being billeted the houses opposite, we were told that they had been rescued from Dunkirk, they were a friendly lot and used to chat with us ,and share any chocolate and sweets they had, I think they were there about a week as they went as suddenly as they came. Mrs C鈥檚, daughter was engaged to a handsome young man, and they got married in May, it was a quiet wedding, I must have been sent off some where, as when I came home for tea I was told they had got married that morning,
I can remember they gave one another small gold heart shaped lockets, which I thought was very romantic,
On my eleventh birthday Di, took me out for the day to Brighten where her mother-in-law lived, first of all she took me to a toy shop, and I could choose two things, I chose a tennis racket and a skipping rope with ball bearing handles, Then we went to a restaurant for tea the restaurant was owned by Di鈥檚 mother-in-law, we had our tea in the kitchen, I had golden fried bread with fried egg and baked apple in pastry with hot custard.
What a day that was, and to this day 64 years later I can still feel the kindness and happiness of that day in 1940.
In June we went back to London, as Roy was now 14 1\2 years old, as you left school at 14 in those days. Plus the fact that the 5 shillings a week orphan pension stopped, which left my mother with 15 shillings for herself and me and our rent was 10 shillings & 6 pence a week plus the 15 shillings she earned for30 hours a week school cleaning at the school of Arts and Crafts in Camberwell, it was hard work there, all the floors were parquet in herring bone pattern which meant that they had to be oiled in two directions, all the doors had brass plates at the bottom and brass handles which had to be polished every day, plus the marble staircases which had to be scrubbed, and not to forget the art room where they worked with plaster of Paris which had to be scraped off the floor before it could be scrubbed, I have mentioned this to give an insight to what life was like at that time for widow with young children.
We had only been back home when the battle of Britain started, I can remember being up Rye lane passing Jones and Higgins.( is it still there ?) when I saw my first dog fight in the air , it seemed that the war had started in earnest now.
We had a six sheet shelter in our garden for two family鈥檚 eight people there we sat night after night one night is so vivid in my memory is the night they bombed the Surrey docks on 7th of the morning after we came out of our shelter very tired and frighten the scenes were horrific.
The road where we lived was a turning off meeting house lane, with a shop on every corner Lamberts the oil shop where we bought our night lights to put a saucer of water for in the shelter, Putty鈥檚 the wireless shop where we took the accumulator to be recharged, Mrs Beard the green grocer with her sacking apron tied around her waist and her green parrot, Polly, the sweet shop, the drapers,
And further along at the cross roads, we had a pub, a radio rentals the Welsh dairy the German bakers the Italian ice cream shop, (these days these terms are politically incorrect) but they were not meant in a derogatory manner,
It was a community in its self we helped one an other, my mother took in a young unmarried mother who had nowhere to go, as the people she rented a room from were moving away so she came to stay with us with her lovely five month old son named Michael it also meant two for the shelter. I mention these details as it had to do with how we all felt after that night of the first big air raid on September 7th 1940, the baker鈥檚 shop had taken a direct hit, the houses all around, the dairy, ice cream shop and pub had all been badly blasted.
We all stood looking in horror as we knew the bakers family sheltered in the basement, which was also the bake house, franticly the A.R.P. and the fire brigade started to dig my oldest brother who was now 16 陆 was also in the A.R.P. offered to help dig, as he had worked for the baker when he had first left school, the older men said: 鈥淣o son, your a bit young for this kind of thing鈥�. After an hour or so as they were making no progress, eventually he was allowed to help. The day before the bakers son had come home on a 48 hour pass and had taken his girlfriend home in the evening and could not get back to Peckham because of the air raid. I can still see him standing there in his khaki uniform when he came home to this terrible scene. The irony of it was that the basement was intact under all the rubble but the gas mains had fractured in the blast. My brother was so shocked and angry at what had he went straight off and joined up he said he was 17 陆, they asked no questions, my mother terrible upset but could say nothing to get him to change his mind.
The King and Queen came to see us. They talked to the people and offered their sympathy. You could see they were stunned and shocked at what they saw. Everyone was pleased to see them and it did us all good to know they were close to their people.
The air raids went on and at the beginning of 1941 my mother decided it was time to get out of London. So we moved to Erith in Kent which looking back wasn鈥檛 far enough away. But at least we had a bigger shelter in the garden and we made it quite cosy. Everyone had a ration book and you registered at the Food Office in the district where you lived and then you registered with a grocer, butcher and Coal man. As we had moved from Peckham we had to register in Erith and you could only do that at certain times. So for the first month after moving my mother and I went back to Peckham once a week to get our rations and have a cup of tea with our old nighbours. My mother was glad to be able to do that as she had lived in that house for 18 years. She went there the day she was married and all 3 of us were born there. So I think it was quite a wrench for her. We had to do the journey on two busses with all our rations. We would wait until after the rush hour before going back so we were certain to get a seat on the bus. One evening as we were going back to Erith the siren went just as we we had to change busses at Woolwich Arsenal. There my Mum and I stood while we could hear the planes coming over and the bombs started to fall whistling down. I was so frightened I just stood there rigid with fright and peed in my pants. When I realised what was happening I started to cry. Eleven years old and peeing in your pants. 鈥淣ever mind love,鈥� my mother said, Nobody knows only us. We eventually got our ration books reregistered in Erith so we didn鈥檛 go back to Peckham very much after that.
I think it was about half way through 1941 that Pat took herself off and went looking for somewhere safer for herself and Michael. She found a lovely lady, Mrs Allen, in Sevenoaks, Kent who would take her and look after Michael while she was working. She came back to fetch Michael. I was heartbroken when he went. My mother insisted on knowing where they were going and got in touch with Mrs. Allen and a friendship ensued that was to last for many years. Mrs Allen was a very brave lady with a heart of gold. Those years are a story in themselves so maybe I will get back to that later.
My mother remarried in 1941 and my stepfather had a son a year younger than me. He was still evacuated somewhere but came home later. My brother Roy was now 15 陆 years old and was a carpenter鈥檚 apprentice at the saw mills in Erith. He stayed there until he joined up when he was 17 陆 years old.

To be continued

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