大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a London CSV volunteer on behalf of Audrey Demer and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

One terrible night Mrs Harris, Edna and I stood in the garden, very late at night, looking at this enormous glow in the distant sky. We were told it was London burning. Edna and I clasped hands in fear of never seeing our parents or siblings again. I lay awake all night praying. Thank God He heard my prayers as they were all saved.

Months later Mummy came to stay for a week and life was wonderful, we hardly moved from her side. The day she had to go back to London was heart breaking. Her heel had left a little imprint in the mud and we collected small stones to put around it, but it rained hard a few days later and the print was washed away.

Another year, Daddy came to stay for a week and we were told by Mrs Harris to walk to the station (about three miles away) to meet him. On the way, we had to pass the gypsy camp and we were very nervous. Their caravans were all brightly painted and had enormous wheels. We had dawdled and were late, and the train had arrived early as, half way to the station, who did we see walking towards us? Daddy! He was striding along with a cane, wearing a white shirt and tie, suit and Anthony Eden hat. We were bursting with pride that this tall, handsome man was our father. Edna said: 鈥淛ust walk past him and say 鈥楪ood afternoon Mr Jones鈥欌��. He raised his hat and said 鈥淕ood afternoon young ladies鈥�, and continued walking. We both rushed after him saying 鈥淒addy, Daddy, it鈥檚 us鈥�, as if he didn鈥檛 know. We were walking 10 feet tall, we were so proud of him. It was unfair to compare him to the villagers, as nearly all the men had been called up to war and those remaining were all old and wearing wellies and farm clothes. The feeling of belonging to someone so special was wonderful. Then again that deep sadness we felt when he had to return to London.

Not long after Mrs Harris and Christine went to visit her mother in Kent. Once again, with small bundles, gas masks and cardboard nametags, we were on the move, this time to a nearby village called Kirtlington. We were taken to Kirtlington Manor to stay 鈥� sheer luxury. We had our own bedrooms, bathrooms and ate in a large dining hall. There were maids and we had two nannies to mind us called Nurse Amy and Nurse Barbara. We had a wonderful time there. They took us on long hikes in the surrounding countryside, played games, taught us impeccable manners, but mostly treated us with respect and dignity that all children deserve. Mrs Budget, who bred horses and greyhounds, owned the manor house. She kindly allowed some evacuees to stay there. I believe that at a much later date Prince Charles played polo nearby.

Chapter 5: www.bbc.co.uk/dna/ww2/a5706191
Chapter 7: www.bbc.co.uk/dna/ww2/a5706281

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