大象传媒

There were three small bedrooms, the main one, and then my bedroom with just a bed in it and the box room, which always smelled of carbolic soap. One day two men came from Birmingham, they were my father's brothers but I never saw them; they had come to take us all back to Birmingham. My Aunt Til asked them to leave me with them, so off they went taking Florrie and Mary with them. It was to be many years before I saw them or heard from them again.

I used to write to my mother every week and give the letter to Aunt Til to post. I asked her every day when Mommy was coming and she always told me that because of the war,

Mommie wasn't able to come. Daytime was all right; I was a normal happy little girl enjoying the countryside, going to school, playing with my friends. Nighttime was the worst, I was always looking for my mother and hearing her calling me but I could never find her. I wandered downstairs to find her but she wasn't anywhere to be found.

I was about 9 years of age, when I was given a box of chocolates by Mr. Callier my headmaster, these having been sent by the New Zealanders. When I finished school I was going back home when I was told by one of my school pals that the only reason I had been given a box of chocolates was because my mommy was dead. I pushed the box of chocolates into her hands, telling her to have them, then I ran home to Aunt Til who immediately knew something was badly wrong because r had changed from brown to white. I told her that Phyllis Sherratt had told me because I had been given a box of chocolates it was because my mommy was dead. Aunt Til took me on her lap, she felt soft and warm, and told me that mommy had gone to Jesus.

MY MOTHER, FATHER AND TWO SMALL SISTERS WERE KILLED IN A SHELTER I IN HOLLIDAY STREET ON 11 DECEMBER 1940, DURING AN AIR RAID.

I had a wonderful childhood with Aunt Til and Uncle Jim, they gave me the security I needed and I cared for them deeply. All the family embraced me as one of them I attended Moira Methodist Chapel where life revolved around it. We had new clothes and shoes once a year to attend the 'Anniversary' whatever that was. Last year's new clothes were worn in the morning and the new ones in the afternoon and we all sat on the "platform" thinking our new clothes were the very best, my particular favourite being a dusky pink dress with coat and hat complete with long ribbons {to blow in the wind) and patent shoes. .

We sang carols at Christmas. The first Christmas I was at Moira I sang at all the properties a little song I had learned at school in Birmingham and which went like this:

God is our Refuge Be not afraid
He will protect you During an air-raid
Bombs may be falling Danger is near
He will protect you 'Til the "all clear"

I went back to my Aunt Til' s cottage, with my pockets bulging with pennies, tuppences, threpenny bits and sixpences. I was growing up and happy with Aunt Til and Uncle Jim.

Underneath the facade there was dreadful grief and sadness. After the war unknown to me arrangements had been made for me to go back to Birmingham to live with my maternal grandfather. The first I knew about this was when a children's officer and a great-aunt (Violet) came to collect me. Again, I felt that awful loss and the tearing apart of everything I knew and loved; the very same was when my mother was running along the platform those many years before. I was taken to my grandfather's house in Bolton Road Small Heath. I could remember him and he was shocked to see how much I was like my mother, his beloved daughter. There were strangers there and I didn't like the city -I longed to be back in Moira in the countryside and my beloved Aunt Til and Uncle Jim, all the families I knew and my friends. I don't know how long it was, I was with grand-dad, then with various aunts; suddenly the children's officer came to where I was living and took me across the city to Edgbaston where I was taken into a house where there was a man and woman and I was left there not knowing what I was doing there and who I was with. The man sat me on his lap and I knew then he was kind and gentle but I never took to the woman. I will not say too much about her but she was very, very strict and very cold and unloving. It was like walking on eggshells to be in her company. I was like Cinderella who never went to the ball. I was up early every morning getting the breakfast to take to her in bed. I did all the heavy housework, washing, going to school and shopping on the way back. I never knew what it was to have a meal on the table. I had to get something myself. I did all the washing and ironing. If I displeased her, always for no reason, I was locked in the dark pantry under the stairs. My life was a nightmare, full of despair, and grief. Pop was kind but he was unable to defend me against her wrath. I was well over 16 years of age and coming home from school one Friday afternoon I decided I could stand no more and would run back home to Moira and to my beloved Aunt Til and Uncle Jim. Saturday morning, my spirits soaring, I went to town down to the coach station, found the bus, which went near Moira and got on it. Having no money I told the conductor that Uncle Jim would pay the fare when we got there. I was taken off the bus into the Inspector's office, the police were called and I was taken back home. I was "grounded" for a math but during that time I ran errands to make enough money to get back to Moira. Again I ran away and did manage to get to Moira. I walked the three miles from Measham to Moira, I knew every blade of grass and ran to get there as quickly as possible. At the cottage, the home where my heart was, and the people I loved and cared for. I had never seen a man cry; they both cried and so did I, the first time for many years. They sat me at the table with something to eat and drink and I told them that I had come home and please don't send me back. I suppose it must have been quite some time - later that day that the children's officer, a policeman and the dreaded guardian arrived.
I was sent upstairs out of the way.

They took me back to Birmingham. I subsequently had a new children's officer who made sure I did not run away again. My school was informed and I was in a lot of trouble with "the guardian". I asked the children's officer where were my sisters and I was about 19 years of age, when Mary and I were reunited. She had been living with my father's sister since leaving Moira. It took until the early 1970's before I met Florrie - she had put an 'ad' in the paper asking my whereabouts. Mary and I have quite a good relationship but the years we had been apart have never been bridged. We have coped with the loss of our whole family but the three left, Florrie, Mary and I still remain the living of World War II.

In 1952 my guardians went to Australia, leaving me to fend for myself. I was nineteen years of age and decided again that I would go back to Moira to my Aunt Til and Uncle Jim who I had kept in touch with all over the years, seeing them as much as I was able. However my boyfriend decided that I would marry him, so I never did get back to live permanently in Moira. My guardians came back to England from Australia after 18 months, poor Pop dying not long after their return. She went into a residential home.

I was very happy being married and after four years my wonderful son Robert was born, followed two years later by my lovely daughter Jayne. Terrible tragedy was to follow, I lost my wonderful son Robert to a brain tumour at the age of 30 years ( the same age as my father) ," and he too, leaving three little girls the same age as my sister and I when we lost our parents.

I continued to visit Aunt Til and Uncle Jim all of their lives, my Uncle Jim dying at the age of 64 (he was 30 when I first went to him) and my Aunt Til died at the age of 82. My 'roots' are still at Moira and I visit there still as Aunt Til and Uncle Jim had a daughter in their 'old age' and she is Doreen also. We are like sisters. I was the daughter of their youth and Doreen is the daughter of their old age. It was a long, long time before I was told that Uncle Jim went to every court in the land to keep me, but was unable to do so as my grandfather was my next of kin and I was under the jurisdiction of the Social Services until I was 21 years of age.

As a post-script to my memoirs I would like to add that I knew that to enjoy a good future, I needed a good education and I worked hard. Eventually I enjoyed a wonderful career in the West Midlands Police as a civilian secretary working for Maurice Buck (assistant Chief Constable Crime) and of course in the 1970's I was very much involved in the work concerning the IRA bombings in Birmingham, particularly those in November 1974 when
the 'Tavern in the Town' and the "Mulberry Bush' were bombed. It was then, as a mother, I realized the full extent of what my own mother must have gone through during the war and of the fear she felt for the safety of her children. I shall never be able to know and understand how she felt when she saw three of her children being taken away as evacuees all those many years ago; she h\as never been able to tell me. For myself, I shall always remember and I will always remember that she promised to fetch me -I am still waiting for her to fetch me to this very day.

All my life I have remembered that little song I learned as a small child during those horrific war years -

God is our Refuge Be not afraid

He will protect you

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of Doreen Tudor and has been added to the site with his permission. Doreen Tudor fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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