大象传媒

Fifty years on - and what wonderful memories come flooding back of my four very happy years from 1939 - 1943 as an evacuee, living on a farm in the picturesque village of Tarleton in SW Lancashire. I was born in the south end of Liverpool, the eldest of five children. Four girls and a boy.

My father, who was much older than my mother, was a big man, with an equally big heart. His kind, gentle and patient nature was an excellent example; he used to tell we children - 鈥渁lways try to return good for evil鈥� a very sound philosophy indeed, but not very easy to carry out as children. After tables (multiplications) had been recited (we were taught at school to walk, skip and run to them) and all the homework completed, we would gather around the piano with father accompanying us and sang all the choruses we learnt at Sunday School, including my favourite, 鈥淚 am H-A-P-P-Y鈥�. The finale was always the same, father singing, 鈥淢y grandfather鈥檚 clock鈥�. And, as he sat at the piano, I would look at him, marvelling in a childlike way, how fortunate I was to have a father and grandfather all in one! He worked very hard at his small haulage business ensuring we all had a comfortable and secure background, plus lots of love and support from both parents.

Mother always carried out the chastising and was very fair, but firm - particularly about speaking correctly. She knitted nearly all our clothes, from socks to vests and lovely little jumper suits with ribbed skirts and striped jumpers. To ensure the safety of our knitted gloves, they were always sewn on each end of a long tape, then thread through the sleeves of our coats!

Long summer holidays were spent at Talacre, North Wales in a cosy wooden chalet, and father would come and spend each weekend with us. We played on the sand dunes, went on long country walks as well as 鈥渃ockling鈥� along the shore. The rumours and rumblings of war seemed an absolute age away during those halcyon days, but then, we soon began to hear more and more of Mr Chamberlain, Adolf Hitler and school evacuations. War, it seemed was imminent. Plans were therefore made for my sister and I (she was 8 and I was 10) to sail to the USA on one of the first evacuation schemes and make our home with relatives in Oregon. But then, these plans were soon abandoned when one of the ships carrying hundreds of school children to Canada was torpedoed. (I have often wondered how different my life would have been had these plans come to fruition.)

As a result, on Friday 1st September 1939, my sister and I were taken with gas masks and cases packed, to our local school where, after having large name tickets pinned to our coats we set off to the railway station. I clung tightly to my mother鈥檚 hand knowing the parting was now very near. We kissed and waved goodbye, and as the train slowly moved out of the station, the parents asked, 鈥渢o where are they going?鈥� - 鈥渄estination unknown鈥� came the reply from the driver. For security reasons, he was given his instructions en-route. After what seemed a long and uneventful journey, we arrived at Southport and were received into a reception centre. We all had to walk around a huge table when teeth, ears and chest were examined, and a fine toothcomb through our hair. As we left, we were given a brown paper carrier bag which contained a tin of corned beef, condensed milk, a loaf, piece of fruit and some biscuits.

Our onward journey took us by coach to Tarleton Church School where Brownies and Guides were waiting to greet us and show us around the school etc. The team of WVS ladies were very kind and soon had us sorted out in groups as we waited to be collected by our foster parents. My sister and I being among the last to go as I remembered my mother鈥檚 firm instructions 鈥渓ook after your sister as you are the eldest and stay together鈥�. How pathetic we must have looked, as I remained adamant on no account had we to be separated.

鈥淕orse Farm鈥� was a cosy, homely place, 鈥淎untie鈥� and 鈥淯ncle鈥� as we called our foster parents had a grown up son and daughter. They did their best to help us settle happily. The first night we cried ourselves to sleep, as all we wanted was our usual goodnight kiss from our parents. On Sunday September 3rd 1939 while sitting in Church, the Rector announced war had been declared. We soon became accustomed to the country way of life and going to school in the mornings one week, then afternoons the next. Alternating with the village children with whom we made lots of friends and are still in touch with today.

Unfortunately, owning to 鈥淎unties鈥� ill health, my sister had to move next door - about a field away. Thank goodness she liked the people there and was happy. Imagine me, now the youngest in the family!

My time was taken up with all manner of activities on the farm, which I loved. From feeding pigs, cows, calves and horses to 鈥渄eggin鈥� (watering) the tomatoes in the greenhouse. I was paid 2/6d (12p) a week, and a further 2/6d for weeding the cobbled stone fold (driveway). Potato picking holidays were fun. I didn鈥檛 seem to notice my stiff, aching back as we earned another 2/6d for each full basket.

Working alongside the family in the fields, I soon became quite fluent in the local dialect, which was broad. This caused some amusement when I was heard to say - 鈥淚 wer in reet fine fettle鈥�!! Naturally I missed home, but oh, how I adored my different way of life in the countryside.

Naturally, there were some unhappy times. Particularly during the horrendous May blitz, when Liverpool was bombed continuously for seven days and nights. My sister and I at the end of six long weeks with no mail from home really thought we had been orphaned. Then, during the seventh week, we were very relieved to hear via the Headmaster, our parents were safe and well. They too had been evacuated when a landmine had dropped in our road. Fortunately it never exploded! 鈥淎untie鈥� and 鈥淯ncle鈥� were equally relieved as they too, had feared the worst and were having thoughts of contacting their solicitor, who was holding the Will, handed to them by my parents - in case of such a likelihood. Years later, I was told, how, during this very anxious time, the postman, decided he had to change his route (thus making a later delivery to the farm) because he became too upset seeing me, waiting at the gate asking every morning 鈥減lease Mr Pickup, anything for us today?鈥�

Another unhappy episode was when a teacher would make me remove my clogs as she couldn鈥檛 stand the clatter of my 鈥渃anal barges鈥� (as she called them) on the wooden floor of the classroom. Therefore, I had to walk around feeling very embarrassed in my warm woolly socks, lovingly knit by my mother. Being devout Methodists, my foster parents were very involved in the Chapel activities, and we all (the family) attended Sunday School and Chapel four times each Sunday. The congregation sang with such gusto, I used to think the roof would lift off. Each Harvest Festival, I was allowed along with other children, to hand around the collection plate - which I thought was so important, and, on 鈥淪ermons鈥� Sunday I sang my first solo - wearing a dress, which had been especially made for the occasion. 鈥淎untie鈥� was very proud of me as I stood in front of a large congregation singing my heart out.

鈥淯ncle鈥� had an old Lancaster car and on sunny Saturday afternoon he would take us for a drive all around SHAP FELL in the Lake District. Other times we enjoyed afternoon tea in a caf茅 in Southport. I used to think how fortunate I was. The excitement of these outings was magic.

Going through my box of treasures recently, I came across a 鈥渢hank you鈥� letter dated March 26th 1942! It was from the Secretary of the Forces Comforts Fund in the village, thanking me for the money raised (7/6d) at the 鈥渃oncert鈥� I had organised in a hen cabin! It was a scream and I remember quite clearly my sister and I, along with other friends dancing 鈥淭he Sailors Hornpipe鈥� when I felt so embarrassed because my sister was showing here navy blue school knickers and everyone else wore white. Oh, I could go on and on reminiscing. Another amusing time I will never forget was when 鈥淯ncle鈥� won his 4th canteen of cutlery at tennis and promised I could 鈥渢ake my pick鈥� of one of these canteens - as long as I married a farmer! Needless to say, it is only recent years I have been fortunate enough to purchase a beautiful pre-war specimen at a local auction.

Sadly, 鈥淎untie鈥� and 鈥淯ncle鈥� are no longer with us, but one thing is for sure, when I attend the Reunion on September 1st at the 50th anniversary of the evacuees arrival at Tarleton, the treasured memories of the dear couple who welcomed me into their family all those years ago, and were so instrumental in giving me such sound and solid training during my formative years, will be very close to my heart.

漏 Jessica Marshall (nee Smith) July 1989

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