大象传媒

YOUNG MATILDA鈥橲 MEMORIES 鈥� An evacuee鈥檚 tale

鈥淣ow you can look after your little sister,鈥� my father said. 鈥淲atch that she comes to no harm.鈥�

We were standing in the middle of Mrs. C鈥檚 kitchen, my sister and I, with the grown-ups sitting around. I was eight years old and my sister was five. It was 1940 and the war had been raging for four months. In fact, my father was 鈥渆vacuating鈥� us to the country for safety.

I could see that my mother was trying hard not to cry. I stared at the shining patterned lino on the floor, a bit confused but strangely excited too. In the background to my confused thoughts I could hear 鈥溾� few weeks til we see how it goes. We鈥檒l send warm clothes. They鈥檒l need Wellington boots for the winter and pixies鈥︹�� (These were woollen scarves sewn into a point at the middle and wrapped around the head for warmth and protection against the rain.)

The time came to wave good-bye and I heard my father mention money for food. etc. Agreements were made and off they went in the old rattle of a car 鈥� a Singer 9, I remember. My mother had hugged us closely and said 鈥淲e鈥檒l see you soon, darlings. Be good. Cheerio now鈥�. I stood in a daze, waving to them. I had never been away from home before and I felt utterly lost. However, just then Mr. C., who was a jolly fat man and laughed a lot, called us inside. 鈥淐ome on you two city waifs. I have sweeties for you.鈥�

The house where we had arrived was a lovely old thatched cottage, quite commodious, with four smallish bedrooms with two leading off the main dining room and two off the sitting room at either end of the house. The large kitchen was in the centre. The front door led into a small square porch, to the left was the kitchen and to the right was the sitting room (the 鈥済ood鈥� room). There was a steep stair-case in the back porch which led up to a large attic which ran all the way down the length of the long cottage.

In the kitchen was a large black range with steel trimmings. These shone, due to the hard efforts of Eva, their eighteen year old daughter, who cleaned and black-leaded the monster every morning. She polished the steel parts with emery paper. It gleamed and reflected the firelight. There was no such thing as stainless steel in those days. If you spilt a drop of water on the steel it rusted very quickly. This large roaring fire was the centre of the home. It provided heat for griddle baking of soda bread, boiling water for washing and cooking. We loved to sit around it on a cold winter鈥檚 night, reading or knitting.

The sleeping arrangements were sorted out. I was to sleep with Doreen, the youngest daughter of the house (she was a year older than me), in the attic, while my sister Mary was to sleep with Eva in the bedroom off the dining room. It seemed so far away from me as my sister and I had always shared a large bed at home. The other members of the household, namely Mr. and Mrs. C., and their eldest daughter Alice shared the other two bedrooms off the sitting room. That left one of the bedrooms which was used for storage. It contained all sorts of strange boxes and trunks. We loved to hide there as we thought it was a great secret, dark place (a bit scary too) when playing hide and seek games.

My little sister and I were to start school the next day. I looked forward to this as I loved school 鈥� new books, new pencils and pens. Mary, my sister had just been at school at home for three months and therefore was more apprehensive than I.

We rose bright and early and Mrs. C. and Eva had our breakfast ready 鈥� soda scones and scalding sweet tea. We wrapped up well in our 鈥減ixies鈥� and warm winter coats for it was January and very cold indeed. Mrs. C. handed us a brown paper bag each and a halfpenny. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 your lunch, and money for your cocoa鈥� she said. 鈥淥ff to school then.鈥� Doreen, (Mrs. C鈥檚 youngest daughter who was one year older than me), Mary and I set off up the very muddy lane which led to the main road. This was quite different from home where, in the city, we just ran around the street corner and we were at school. In the city we were able to come home for lunch but now we had to walk a mile to school, rain, hail or snow!

Now, as we walked along briskly on a frosty January morning, everything took on a new look for me. I grasped my little sister鈥檚 hand tightly and she trustingly held tightly on to mine as we walked in the beautiful countryside. Doreen announced 鈥淲e have to call for Jayne and Beth. They鈥檙e my nieces y鈥檏now.鈥� I wondered how on earth a girl of 9 could be an aunt! We duly collected the two small nieces who were 6 and 7 years old, and also clad in woollen 鈥減ixies鈥� and top coats. I thought we all looked like dwarfs!

We arrived at the little country school. There were three teachers, three rooms plus a 鈥渂ig鈥� room for assembly. I noticed a lovely, well-kept garden as I went in. This was so different from the cement paving around our city school at home. Mary was deposited with the 鈥渂aby infants鈥� as Primary 1 was known in those days. I was directed to Mr. Courtney鈥檚 classroom. It was packed with over 40 children aged 7, 8 and 9 years old. Every seat and desk was occupied 鈥� no room for me. It was January and the school term was three months old. Everyone stared at this stranger who stood petrified at the door. 鈥淏ring a chair from the big room鈥� the teacher roared in a loud commanding voice which made me tremble. A pupil ran out and returned with a chair. Mr. Courtney placed it, much to my consternation, at the side of his own large desk at the front of the room. I sat down and awaited developments.

Mr. Courtney was a great believer in learning by repetition so we learnt our tables and poetry by chanting over and over again all that he wrote on the blackboard.

The blackboard stretched all the way across the front wall of the room, and written (it seemed permanently to me) a prayer or section of the bible which we had to memorise word perfect (by the end of each week) or else the dreaded cane! Mr. Courtney was a great wielder of the cane and he also banged it a lot on his desk to empathise a point 鈥� right in front of my nose! I jumped every time and it was a wonder I was able to do any school work at all. I lived in terror of Mr. Courtney!

I was glad when June came and I 鈥減assed鈥� into the next class in the front classroom where the Headmaster taught 10, 11 and 12 year olds.

Mr. Samson was a much nicer teacher than my last one. I was now 鈥減assed up鈥� to the 鈥渟enior鈥� room at the tender age of ten. There were three classes here: 5th, 6th and 7th grade. (One left school at 13 or 14 years on those days) Mr. Samson was strict but fair. He loved music and always ended the week with a great singsong in the Big Room. He strummed the piano with great gusto and encouraged us to open our mouths widely and sing at the top of our young voices.

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