大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Odilia Roberts from the Derby Action Team on behalf of Ina Blackford and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

It was September 1939; we鈥檇 just arrived by train from London to Horley in Surrey. My sister Betty and I along with many other London children were being evacuated to various parts of the country.
Nametags were stuck on our coats; gasmask boxes slung over one shoulder and carrying a brown suitcase. We were met at the station and taken to the local school where we were squeezed into an overcrowded noisy hall and told to wait for our names to be called. A boy aged about 12, my age, wanted to go home via the railway lines but Betty had heard the war won鈥檛 last long, so we stayed.
Our names were eventually called along with a girl called Jean, we were rushed through the streets with 鈥淐ome along, you can walk faster than that.鈥� We could but we didn鈥檛 want to. We stopped at a cottage to be welcomed by an elderly lady dressed in black, wearing a pinafore over a long skirt. We followed her inside and up the narrow stairs turning left along the landing through one room to get to the room that was to be ours.
鈥楳ind the steps鈥� she warned a little too late, I fell down that step pushing Jean in front of me, she landed on the bed and I landed face down on the linoleum. 鈥淥h dear, I did say mind the step, come down when you鈥檙e ready.鈥� Walking towards the door she turned, 鈥測ou鈥檇 better call me Gran,鈥� she said.
There were three items of furniture in the room, a tallboy, chest of drawers, both with brass handles and a double bed with brass headboard and foot. We followed Betty downstairs.
鈥淭here you are鈥� Gran said, 鈥淚 expect you鈥檙e hungry.鈥� We hadn鈥檛 eaten since early that morning. We were starving. We sat at the bare wooden table eating slices of fruitcake and drinking milk. The thought crossed my mind that it might not be too bad here.

We were all very homesick, Jean most of all, she cried continuously making herself ill, her mother was asked to take her home.
We lay in bed listening to the rustling in the lane, an owl tooting and the cry of an animal. No trams rumbled along the road, no heavy footsteps on the pavement or loud laughter and bawdy songs from intoxicated men and women going home after a good night in the pub. There was no sound in the house either. The silence was heavy, suffocating. We cried ourselves to sleep.
I was looking through the window on that first morning when Gran entered the room. 鈥淕oodness me,鈥� she said, 鈥淵ou鈥檒l catch your death. Get dressed and come down to breakfast.鈥�

I don鈥檛 think we ever got used to the quiet of the countryside but we loved Surrey, exploring the woods and paddling in the streams and the long summer walks with the grownups.

We met the boy who wanted to walk home along the railway lines. He came from a big family and to share everything but in Surrey he had his own room and a big double bed all to himself. He was happy.

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