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At the beginning of World War II my mother and father decided to have their four youngest children evacuated because we lived in the middle of prime targets for the German bombers, such as the shipyards, the electricity cooling towers and many factories.

Bernard was eleven years old, I Winifred was nine years old, Marguerite was seven and David five. We were nervous not having been away from home before, but we were also excited about living in the country and hoped we would live on a farm.

We had to congregate at the Railway station although we travelled by bus. Mother had given us strict instructions that I was to look after Marguerite and Bernard was to see to David. On no account were we to be separated.

When the buses arrived we all piled on with our carriers containing gifts of fruit etc., and our gas masks in strong cardboard boxes hung around our necks. We all had labels tied to our lapels with our name and particulars on them in case we were mislaid. Marguerite was a very shy little girl and clung to me.

When we arrived at our destination, which turned out to be a colliery village called Coxhoe our teachers who had travelled with us assembled us in the Church of England school hall. The headmaster of this school, Mr Wanless, was the billeting officer and the person responsible for this batch of evacuees.

We all stood around as the helpers came to take us to our new homes. Quite a few people came for either Marguerite or me (mother had bought us new coats and hats and shoes, although we were poor, and we were very healthy looking children thanks to mother and fathers good care). I however, had my instructions and told them that we had to go to a home that would take both of us. The hall was emptying and there weren’t many children left when someone took us. As we were walking up the bank one of our carriers burst and our oranges and other goodies rolled on to the pavement. A lady who must have been watching form across the road came out with a carrier which we thought was very kind.

The people we were lodged with were a childless couple called Mr and Mrs Lumley. Mr Lumley was a private builder who had built the own of houses in which we lived. It was a very nice house and our bedroom at the back looked out over fields and the vicarage garden. Very different from our backyard at home.

Mrs Lumley was rather house proud which caused one of our first problems as she did not like us up before she had done her work downstairs. This caused us to miss mass so our teachers had to diplomatically explain to her just wasn’t on.

I’m afraid Marguerite cried a lot at night as she had toothache and wanted her mother, and there was brown paper between the flock mattress and the wire mattress which crackled every time we moved.

I was quite happy as Mrs Lumley took us for country walks with her retired schoolteacher friend who lived next door. Mr Lumley was very nice and gave me books to read. One day Marguerite and I went blackberrying and never having done it before and finding very few BLACK berries, returned with red and green ones too.

One day we were taken out in Mr Lumley’s black Austin motor car, we had never been in a car before so we were very excited when Mrs Lumley said they were going to take us to visit her friends. We felt like little princesses and Marguerite wanted to wave to everyone.

Our stay with the Lumley’s only lasted for two weeks. Mother had promised to come to see us so we went to meet her getting off the bus. She was dressed in her Sunday best which was a French navy edge to edge coat with satin lapels. I still have the big blue broach she wore. She looked lovely and we were very proud walking up the street with her. We played outside the vicarage while she went in to talk with Mrs Lumley who told her she would like to keep me but Marguerite was too much of a handful. Mother wouldn’t have us separated and took us down to see Mrs Wanless. He told her it was difficult and the only person left who had said she would take two was very deaf and that was why no children had been placed with her. Mother said she would rather have a deaf person than split us.

Mr Wanless took us to the back door of a council house. The trellis was covered with masses of roses which I thought was very beautiful. Mrs Donnelly came to the door and Mr Wanless asked if she would take us. She tossed her head in a hurt way and said that as she had not been good enough before she had decided she wouldn’t take any now. After a little cajoling she said we could come in and she would awaken Mr Donnelly from his Sunday afternoon nap and ask his opinion. As we walked through the kitchen we noted that the table was covered with newly baked tarts and cakes which smelt delicious.

In the living room a big fire surrounded by a huge shining stainless steel fender was roaring up the chimney. Marguerite and I promptly sat on the kerb and mother just as promptly told us to get off and sit elsewhere ( explaining afterwards that sitting with our backs so close to the heat was very bad for our spines). A sleepy Mr Donnelly came downstairs and decided that it was up to his wife whether she wanted to take us on. Being the very kind hearted person she was she agreed to have us and Mr Wanless left. We had a scrumptious tea after which mother went home.

Lizzie and Frankie, as we came to call them, hadn’t any children of their own but took in anyone in need. They already had living with them Mr Donnelly’s’ brother and a niece and nephew, all from different branches of the family in their three bedroomed council house. We shared a bedroom and bed with the seventeen year old niece Sarah.

We were well fed and allowed more or less to run wild. Lizzie became very attached to marguerite and asked if she could keep her for good when the time came for her to leave.

Frankie was a foreman quarryman and I can remember him being very tired when he came home from work. On Sunday mornings when we came home from mass he would joke on with us and let us tie ribbons in his little tuft of hair, which we thought looked very funny with his big manly face.

Lizzie loved us to sit with her in the evening and we would shout and tell her about home and other snippets of news. She loved dressing Marguerite up for church on Sundays but got a bit exasperated with me spoiling my clothes as I was the tomboy. We would tell her what the priest had said when we returned home. Father Lucy was a smashing priest who kept pigs and rode on their backs much to our delight.

I stayed with them for two years when I had to go back home to attend Grammar School and Marguerite stayed on.

Back in Sunderland the air raids continued and although our house escaped a direct hit by the German bombers several houses in the street were demolished and people killed. They also scored one or two hits on the Wearside shipyards which kept working and produced 25% of Britain’s shipping tonnage during the war.

Being evacuated was a memorable and rewarding experience which made a great and lasting impression on us.

We kept in regular touch but Lizzie, Frankie and Sarah are dead now, although my best friend Kathleen who lived next door to us in Coxhoe still writes and I occasionally visit her where she lives in Durham City.

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