大象传媒

Even today in the year 2005, I remember being evacuated. It was only for a short time, but for a thirteen year old girl in the 1930s, it sure was an adventure.
The house that we stayed at was a beautiful detached large stone house set in its own grounds. We had been allocated to this lady who did not have a Welsh accent, who, after my tearful performance, took my younger sister and brother and myself home with her.
There we where put into the care of Dilys the cook, and Gladys the maid; two eighteen year olds. After a short while, we got the impression that they were going to be a bit bossy!
Or was it me? Being almost fourteen myself, I didn't think they could tell me what to do - no I was not having that - I was almost fourteen and leaving school the following year, I was almost grown up!
Having heard from talk in the playground, that we should have eggs for breakfast, I stood tall and tackled the cook! I asked why we had not been given such for breakfast, as anticipated, Gladys told me not to be so cheeky, and I noticed - turned quite red!
When I said I would confirm if this was so -with our host Mrs Roberts, to my delight, next day eggs were on the menu, so happily this was soon forgotten - and in time, we were on more amicable terms, Gladys even taking me into the village to meet the locals, girls and boys, so there and then - I forgave her everything!
Over the next weeks, I began to appreciate my surroundings, the large grey stone house was furnished in the style of the thirties, polished wood blocked floors, and large sumptious chairs and tasteful furnishings. However, some rooms really fascinated me, entering the hallway, there to the left in all its majesty, was a russet, polished brick, Inglenook fireplace, and at each side of the fireplace, two seats were built in... I loved to sit in those seats, and gaze at the old fashioned Welsh spinning wheel - I could almost see an old lady spinning the wool as in the olden days.
Then there was the bathroom....
This was somewthing else! A large room - green vitrolite walls complemented a deep white bath, and sink, and glory be - a sparkling, gleaming, chrome heated towel rail - I felt like a film star! I did linger longer each time I took a bath. Then - Gladys sometimes came looking for me, concerned, as I was much longer than I should be.
Oh! delight, school was shared with Welsh children, but, only for half a day, this gave me time to explore the countryside, up hill and down dale - sadly, the village children only spoke Welsh, so that curtailed our conversation some what!
The lady of the house, was of the opinion that we should learn more about our surroundings. One day she said "you children and I are going to visit my mother, we will go in my car." I was overwhelmed by this announcement by car, had I been in a car before? Never, no not in my life! And so they great day dawned! Mrs Roberts was the driver, I had never seen a lady at the wheel of a car, although at home I must admit sometimes outside our front door, there was occasions, usually on saturday mornings and, when a male collector was off sick, that I had seen a replacement, a woman attired in leathers from head to foot, and always wearing a very, very, large pair of matching goggles!
These fearlesss females usually were 'insurance agents', so you see, even in the thirties some women were a driving force! Seated on those huge fearsome looking motorbikes. I often wondered what they looked like all under that leather!
So off we went, my sister and I, seated, wide eyed and silently excited, however, driving on the main seafront road, our driver (to my chagrin), started to aquire the role of geography teacher "now (she announced), I am going to tell you the names of towns and on the way back I will ask you to tell me them again." Oh, dear thought I, only wanting to gaze dreamily out of the window, this is just like being at Anfield Road School again!
I was not too sure where we where going, it must be remebered that this was 1939, and teenage girls who had never ventured further than their own street were not so confident. However, I was absolutely amazed, when the car entered the driveway of a very grand house, even more ostentatious.
This was the home of our host's mother. In the drawing room, we were introduced to a very old lady - well to me she seemed old! On reflection, she was probably only sixty. She asked if we liked our surroundings, gave us sixpence each, then banished us to the kitchen with the cook, who served us scones and milk, which we devoured with relish! Tummies happy, it was suggested we take a walk around the grounds, those grounds will live in my memory forever!
White fantailed Doves flew amongst the trees, reeds swayed gently in the lake, as the white swans swam too and fro, bushes displayed their colours in the september sunshine, contrasting vividly with the beautiful green lawns.
It was almost as picturesque as Stanley Park, and in those days, it was some park!
On returning home, we were asked to name the resorts, we managed a few, but, sadly our host did not realise, that for us, travelling by car was such a thrill, and, that all we wanted, was to savour the moment!
Time passed, I discovered my host owned a farm (often donning her wellies to take us there and introducing us to 'Ike' the manager), she also owned cattle idly grazing on hills, and near by, pears grew on the walls as did other fruits,in fact most of the land was put to good use and - I must admit after some weeks - I felt at home. My mother however, was missing us dreadfully, and on her last visit, found my sister had a recurring foot infection which had not been treated.. In the past, a homapathic treatment had been used at home, by my mother, which cleared the dreadful skin complaint, so that was the deciding factor - the feet must be treated - and we were going home! Of course there had been no bombing as predicted, and everyone thought it to be safe to return to Liverpool.
Mrs Roberts I still remember, standing there with her spaniel dog Goldie, bid us goodbye, too soon (it seemed, it seemed to my broken heart), we were seated in the railway compartment in the train waiting to depart. I started to put on the act of crying and looking like Orphane Annie, sadly neglected, like as if I was being taken to the dogs home - remembering the look on my mothers face I now think I should have been! The only other passenger, a very old lady asked "why is she crying?" I waited - a firm voice answered - much to my shame - "because she has to come home." My mothers voice was sad in the reply, and I still now recall my utter selfishness. The old lady made no comment, yet looked at me and smiled, turning her head, she looked out of the window, causing me to notice her ear. Was it filled with cotton wool or was it wax? I was mesmerised, and in that moment...I stopped crying!
Always one for wondering, often I thought about my time at Brongeneu, which was the name of the house. In 1976, we had aquired wheels and decided to take the car for a journey.
So off we went to - Wales, which gave us the opportunity to visit Mrs Roberts, this we did after a few enquiries, and after thirty five years, much to my surprise I recognised the driveway of her house. A little apprehensive about visiting after so many years, I left my family waiting at the bottom of the driveway. Timidly, I knocked at the door - it was opened by a plump, white haired lady, much changed from the slim, curly, dark haired lady of 1939 - but those twinkling brown eyes,they had not changed as they looked at me puzzled and enquiringly. "Hello," I said, "don't suppose you remember me?" "No," she replied, still very puzzled. "Well, I was one of your evacuees," I informed her. Then in a detective like manner, I proved my identity by, naming the servants; Gladys and Dilys and Ike the farmer. Mrs Roberts then explained to me she had taken more evacuees after we had left, but yes, she did recall that we were the first. "Do come in," she said. And I stepped back into yesterday.
Entering the hallway which was spacious and high, I recognised instantly standing to my left, in all its magnificance, the beautiful Inglenook fireplace and the old Welsh spinning wheel. To my right, at the top of the first flight of stairs, still sleepily ticking away, was the grandfather clock.
I now had to admire its grandeur, it was huge, so huge, and much, moregrand, than the one we had at home when I was a young child!
Mrs Roberts took us into the drawing room and insisted on meeting my family. As we talked about old times, she mentioned her servants of those times past, and how their lives had changed, telling me where they lived now days. She was also very interested in my family and so we chatted, and time passed. Not wishing to intrude for too long, I explained that we were travelling on to Aberystwith. So we eventually said our farewell, hoping to meet agin sometime.
We spent the night in Aberystwith, next day however fate stepped in - as we were walking around the town we came across a Centinary exhibition at the local town hall, I thought I would go in - the elderly gentleman in charge chatted to me about my visit there, so I told him about my being an evacuee. Surprisingly, this gave way to information about the history of Mrs Roberts family. Apparently her atecedents in past times, had been brewers. He then showed me an old beer bottle belonging to their company, a very old, green, glass bottle, with a stopper attached; a style from years gone by. I was very interested to hear a little history of the family. He said with some amusement "you were billeted with 'hoi polloi'"- I guess he meant wealthy people.
He then said "come with me" - leading me to a drawer, he took out a photograph of a gentleman in army officers uniform shaking hands with the former Prince of Wales, on a railway station. This was taken in the 1930s before the war, then I was told this officer was Mrs Roberts' father, and I do remember as a child seeing the Prince when visiting the Welsh miners - on the newsreels at the Gaumont Cinema, at the saturday matinee.
As an after thought,it was surprising to see so little changes at the house, being an adult now, I was very impressed by the house, the old oil paintings hanging from the ceiling to the floor, many antiques, beautiful ornaments, and many other interesting objects. The floors however, were still wooden, stained and polished, as in the past, and the only changes to my eye, were the fitted cotton covers on the chairs and settee.
Once home, I wrote to my host to thank her for her hospitality - after all it's not every day a strange woman knocks on your door some 36 years later and asks "do you remember me?" She replied by letter saying how much she had enjoyed our visit, and, did I remember her sister and - she would be delighted if I would visit again. But - I never did - although I still have her letter to this day!
Time marches on. Looking back it was a major event in my young life, all that wealth and space to live in - but after a while other changes took place - the wartime, starting work, going dancing, and watching all those Hollywood films, and my heart throb; Errol Flynn!
Being an evacuee was a very happy experience for me, a truly lovely memory, alongside my beautiful Stanley Park!

'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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