大象传媒

In 1939, my family moved in to a new housing estate on the outskirts of Hove and at the foot of the South Downs. At the time the family consisted of Mum, Dad, me, an 8 year old boy and my 6 year old sister. Being a new estate, people made friends easily, and I remember that my parents and our neighbours seemed to talk of little else but the coming war. It was not if, but when. For me, the idea of war was exciting, and I just wished they would get on with it so we could 鈥榖eat them up鈥�, but something told me to keep quiet about that. Towards the end of 1939 Dad got his 鈥榗alling up鈥� papers. He had a good business in Brighton at that time, a car breakers and spares supplier. He had to sell it straight away and got just 拢100 for it!
Inevitably the time came for my sister and me to be evacuated. If I remember, it was not the threat of bombing, but of invasion, that sent us off. With many other kids we were labelled up and set off into the unknown with our gas masks and a satchel with some food and a change of clothing in it. After what seemed like forever, we arrived at a small mining town called Upton in Yorkshire. It was a blur as to how we were actually given a place to stay, but because of her age my sister Maureen stayed with me.
The people we stayed with were called the Boyle鈥檚. There was Dad, Mum and son who was about 20. Dad and son worked in the mines. They lived at number 60 School Road (don鈥檛 ask me how I can remember that), and kinder and nicer people you could not wish to meet. They did everything they could to make us feel welcome and fit in as one of the family. We were given our own piece of garden and they even saved the lids off Cherry Blossom boot polish (you could get in the Saturday cinema more cheaply with a lid!), quite often, I suspect, before they were really empty. I remember on one occasion (and even after all these years, get a red face thinking about it) asking Dad Boyle to bring me home a real piece of coal from the 鈥榝ace鈥�. He did that, and I was disappointed to find it was just like the coal in the scuttle (which it most likely came from!).
All of this kindness was not enough to compensate for the loss of home. Every night Maureen cried in her bed, and I had to bury my face in the pillow to stop her hearing her big brother crying.
Came the day when we got very excited. Dad who鈥檇 gone into the RAF had got some leave and he and Mum were coming up to see us! Where he got the car and petrol from I don鈥檛 know, but I do know he was forever resourceful! I gave Maureen strict instructions that she was not to cry or let them know she was not happy. I don鈥檛 know why I did that but can only imagine it was out of respect for the Boyle鈥檚. The visit went well. We all stood outside in the road waving madly as the old Austin slowly pulled away. Suddenly it was all too much for Maureen. She ran after the car screaming her head off. The outcome was certain; Maureen was going back with them. 鈥淒id I want to stay?鈥� Nice as the Boyle鈥檚 were it was 鈥榥o contest鈥�. Back in the house we scrabbled together our few possessions, leaped into the car and set off on the long journey back to Hove.

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