大象传媒

The Day the Soldiers Came to Tea

One Sunday afternoon, during the Second World War, I was sent to the front room of our house to look for soldiers. They were battling through the snow, which was nearly up to their knees, some on crutches and some with arms in slings. They鈥檇 come by Midland Red Bus from Marston Green Hospital to Birmingham. They wore washed out hospital uniforms, R.A.F blue very faded. The tall men鈥檚 trousers didn鈥檛 properly cover their ankles and the short men鈥檚 concertina鈥檇 over their shoes.

They jostled each other as they came through the front door in Small Heath. Mum and Auntie Muriel came to green them. We all went through to the back living room and got them seated at the indoor air raid shelter. The 鈥淭able鈥� came in handy for a number of people, about ten of us.

The hospital had sent Mum some money for food, the rest she provided. We were fortunate that Grandad Bentley had relatives in the USA, Australia and South Africa. We鈥檇 get very big tins of fruit now and then, which Mum kept, also hams. Once open the hams were difficult to keep as we hadn鈥檛 a fridge, I think some were given to the neighbours.

Once tea was finished we went through to the front room. The soldiers got out the photos of their families. I was interested in the children of my age, which was eight. One R.A.F man asked me to sit on his knee. I said 鈥淣o thanks I don鈥檛 feel like it at the moment, but it鈥檚 not because of your leg.鈥� (He鈥檇 only got one leg.) All the men laughed and said 鈥淭hat鈥檚 put you in your place, Bill.鈥�

Auntie Muriel kept a visitors book, which she took back to Halifax, Yorkshire. A few years ago, I tried to trace her and Uncle George, but they weren鈥檛 the right Margatroyd鈥檚 in the book.

I鈥檒l always remember the front room with us all sitting knee to knee. The flames from the fire lighting up the men鈥檚 faces on that cold winters evening. Their countries were so far away. Poland, France, Canada, Australia. I like to think their English friends gave them some happy memories as well.

My name is Barbara J. Jones (nee Bentley). My home address was Somerville Road, Small Heath, Birmingham. I was born on the 27th August 1936 at Sorranto Maternity Hospital, Moseley, Birmingham, one month premature.
I joined the Brownies, where I learnt to cook bangers and mash. Next was the Girl Guides. The highlight of the year was the camp.
The school I went to was Somerville Road Infants and Junior School. After the war Dad took Mum and me there to learn Modern Dancing, Saturday nights.
My 鈥榖ig鈥� school was Marlborough Road Secondary Modern Mixed. The school leavers went on a trip to the Festival of Britain in 1951. We slept in the London Underground.

My first job was with Boots (Cash) Chemists, in New Street, Birmingham. As I was in the Library, I was in my element.
Next came Hotpoint Offices in Snow Hill, Birmingham, then Durolas Road Construction Co. in Gas Street, Birmingham; too Dickesian for a teenager. My last job was with Birmingham Regional Hospital Board. The men played cricket on the lawn at lunch time, in Augustus Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham. I got married to Harold in 1961, and lived at Somerville Road for two years. His firm (Birmingham Small Arms), moved the Gun Section to Redditch so we started to buy a house in nearby Studley.
Karen was born 1966, and Peter 1969. In the 70鈥檚, I went to Creative Writing classes at Redditch and Evesham Colleges. Later I took the English 鈥極鈥� level exam and passed it, just!

I joined the Studley Women鈥檚 Country Club, and read the story for the Tufty Club children鈥檚 section for Road Safety. The adult section of the club is still thriving, and we have very good speakers. We meet once a fortnight in the evening. The club was much appreciated when our children were small. We hold a lot of events, the money raised goes to local charities. Since my husband died of a heart attack in 1993, I鈥檝e gone back to the creative writing.

My mum鈥檚 name was Frances J. Bentley (nee Williams). She worked at C&A (Modes), until I was born. Then went Saturday鈥檚 only when Joan, my sister, and I were teenagers.

Auntie Muriel was not a 鈥榬eal鈥� aunt. She was Mum鈥檚 lady lodger. It was she who arranged the Sunday teas. Her husband George dropped by occasionally, on his way delivering aeroplane wings. Their surname was Murgatroyd; I know they came from Halifax, Yorkshire. When in Yorkshire a few years ago, I looked up and rang the five Murgatroyds in the book, but they were not mine. It would be nice to see Auntie鈥檚 Visitors Book.

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