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As a child of fourteen, living in Kensington, I was involved in the huge evacuation of children from London immediately war had been declared, on 3 September 1939.

All the pupils at my school, the Godolphin and Latymer Girls School in Hammersmith, London W 6, were taken by train to Newbury, Berkshire. There, in a building adjoining the station we were assembled, first to be medically examined (this memorably, included a painful combing for head-lice!) before travelling to our eventual destinations.

We were then given a carrier each, containing Horlicks tablets — presumably to be sucked as a drinks substitute — a packet of hard biscuits and a bar of chocolate, and possibly other items, and told to wait whilst we were allocated billets. Several of our teachers were with us, but, at this stage, the organisation appeared to be in the hands of local officials. Eventually, another girl in my form and I were taken by car to a very grand house in the village of Donnington.

There we were regally received by two elderly maiden-ladies. They told us that we would take our meals with their staff, who consisted of a cook and a housemaid; (neither of whom looked very pleased about that!). But, they added, if we were VERY good, we would be allowed to listen to the news on the radio in their drawing room. However, Dorothy and I clearly never met the required standards as we never saw them again. The next day we had a three mile walk to Newbury Girls’ School, which we were to share with them.

Within three weeks, there had been time for our teaching staff to institute a search for billets nearer the school. Dorothy’s parents had moved to another part of the country, and she left to be with them. I with another form-mate Barbara, moved to a complete contrast, this was a railwayman’s cottage close by the school. There, lived a Mr and Mrs Burgess and their adopted daughter, Ruby. The cottage had gas-lighting downstairs, but none upstairs, no bathroom and an outside lavatory, and it was spotlessly clean. Mr and Mrs Burgess gave us a wonderful welcome, and we very quickly overcame our homesickness and confusion, and settled happily with them. Sadly about nine months later, Mrs Burgess became ill, and we had to leave.

Barbara went back to London, and I paired up with Joan, another girl in my form, who has remained my life long friend. We had a couple of temporary billets, and then were taken in by a family called Tuckey, who lived in a large ‘thirties’ style of house with a beautiful garden close by the town centre. Mr Tuckey who was now retired, had been a steward for a well-to-do family; he had a fund of fascinating stories, and lived for his garden. There were two daughters, Edie, who was an accounts clerk in a local printer’s, and Dorothy who took enormous pride in keeping the house spick and span. It could not have been easy for them to fit us into their ordered lives, but they did all they could to make us a part of their family. Joan’s parents and mine were invited to visit, which gave them reassurance about their daughters’ welfare. We became very fond of them, and both Joan and I continued to correspond, and visit when we could, after the war until they had all passed away.

We stayed there until, in the summer of 1941, the London Blitz seemed to have died down, and it was decided that our school could now return to Hammersmith. Of course, it was good to be back home. But, despite the sadness of being separated from our parents and the anxiety we had felt, knowing how they were suffering in London, I think we all had in many ways benefited from our experiences as evacuees. We had learned quite a lot about people — mostly good! And we had also acquired a certain self confidence which might have taken longer to assume had we remained in the comparative cocoons of our homes.

Unfortunately, Hitler had other plans for London, and we had barely resumed school in Hammersmith, when doodle-bugs and later V2’s started to disturb our routine. But that’s another story…..

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