by Sandy Taylor
‘I’m sorry,’ I cried, ‘we was out playing and it got late and…’
‘I thought I’d lost you!’ Mum screamed again. She was crying and laughing, angry and happy, hugging me and shaking me all at the same time. ‘I thought I’d lost you!’
It took her a while to calm down and then we went back up the stairs. Freddie was in his drawer and Olive was kneeling beside it, looking down at him, stroking his back with her little fingers. Her face was very solemn.
‘I looked after him, Mum,’ she said. ‘I didn’t take my eyes off him for a second, like you said.’
‘You’re a good girl, Olive,’ Mum replied.
She sat down in her chair and put her head in her hands. I saw the misery in her slumped shoulders; I saw the pain in her eyes. I knew that I’d caused this pain, by staying out so late and giving her reason to think I’d been flattened by a bomb. I felt awful about it. And I knew then that it wasn’t fair on Mum, us staying: she had enough on her plate without all this worry. The best thing we could do for her was to let ourselves be evacuated after all.
Chapter Four
We said goodbye to Mum in the flat because Mrs Baxter was going to come and accompany us to the station. I knew it was going to be hard saying goodbye, but I didn’t realise how hard it would be. Olive, who’d been swinging between excitement about being evacuated and dreading it, had finally understood what it meant. She’d been crying all morning and now her eyes and nose were red – she looked like a hopeless little creature. Tony had been quiet; he’d hardly said a thing since he got out of bed and now he was standing with his back to us, staring out the window, looking down onto the street. He hadn’t said that he wasn’t coming with us, but I still wasn’t sure that he was going to get on the train. On the table were three paper parcels tied up with string, holding our clothes.
‘Now I’ve made you some bread and drippin. Don’t open it until lunchtime because I don’t know how long the journey will take,’ said Mum.
‘Why won’t they tell us where we’re going?’ I asked.
‘I suppose it’s all to do with secrecy. You know, “walls have ears” and all that.’
Olive climbed onto Mum’s lap and put her arms around her neck. She pressed her face into Mum’s shoulder and her little body shook with sobs. I had a terrible lump in my throat but I was trying hard to swallow it down and be strong for my brother and sister. I couldn’t believe we were leaving Mum and the flats and everything we knew and loved.
‘Come on,’ Mum said to Olive, ‘it’s going to be fun.’
‘I don’t want fun,’ Olive sobbed.
‘You wait and see! In a couple of days you’ll have made some new friends and you’ll be climbing trees and running around, and you’ll have forgotten all about how sad you’re feeling today.’
‘No, I won’t!’
I was inclined to agree.
Mum said: ‘Come on now, Olive.’ She eased her off her lap and beckoned me to follow her into the bedroom. She put her finger to her lips because baby Freddie was fast asleep in his drawer on the floor. She went over to the dresser and took out a black box, then sat on the bed and patted the place beside her. I sat down and watched her open the box. Inside was a beautiful silver locket hung on a slender chain.
‘I want you to have this, Nell,’ she said, placing it in my hands.
‘But it’s yours,’ I said.
‘And for now it’s yours. You can give it back to me when next we meet.’
I weighed the locket in my hand. It felt smooth and cold in my palm.
‘Open it,’ she said, putting her arm around my shoulder.
I undid the little clasp and inside was a picture of Mum and Dad.
‘That was taken on our wedding day, Nell. Weren’t we a handsome couple?’
I gazed at the photograph; my parents looked so young. Mum’s hair was dark, not streaked with grey as it was now, and my dad didn’t have a beard. They were staring into the camera like two frightened rabbits.
‘We were terrified,’ she said, smiling.
‘I think you both look very beautiful,’ I said.
‘Turn around, Nell.’
I did as she said and she gently lifted my hair and secured the locket around my neck.
‘When you are sad,’ Mum said, ‘you’ll know that me and Dad are close to your heart. If ever you feel lonely, you can open the locket and see my face and you’ll know that I am missing you as much as you are missing me.’
‘I will, Mum,’ I said, and the lump in my throat that I was trying so hard to swallow threatened to choke me and I had to let it out. I sobbed and sobbed as if my heart was breaking.
Mum held me against her and smoothed my hair. She smelt of home. We sat on the bed together until the sobbing wore itself out and then she let me go. She fished a rag out from up her sleeve and gave it to me, and I dabbed at my nose and my eyes.
‘I know you’ll be brave, my Nell,’ said Mum. ‘I’m depending on you to take care of your brother and sister. Be gentle with Olive, as I know you will, and make sure Tony doesn’t get himself into too much trouble.’
‘I promise, Mum.’
She smiled at me. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said.
I smiled weakly back.
‘We’re going to be fine,’ she said, ‘all of us. Right?’
I nodded miserably.
‘We are,’ she insisted. ‘Come on now, Nell. Mrs Baxter will be here any minute.’
She went back into the kitchen. I knelt down by the drawer to say goodbye to Freddie, I smoothed his little head but he didn't stir, I wondered when I would see him again.
I put on my coat and helped Olive, who was still sobbing, into hers. Mum had written our names on bits of paper and pinned them to our coats. Tony still hadn’t moved from the window. Mum walked across to him and folded him in her arms. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly to her. And then his arms went round her. There was a desperate look on his face as he clung to her. This was bloody awful.
‘There now, my strong boy,’ I heard her say. ‘I need you to be brave and take care of your sisters. Can you do that for me?’
He nodded. Mum smoothed the hair away from his eyes and kissed his forehead.
Just then there was a tap on the door and Mrs Baxter walked into the room. She looked round at us all and smiled.
‘All ready?’ she said.
‘I think so,’ said Mum softly.
‘Have you remembered their ration books?’
‘Yes, they’re in Nell’s parcel, tucked into her clothes.’
‘Because they wouldn’t be very happy if the kids turned up without them.’
‘I think I’ve remembered everything,’ said Mum.
‘Best go then,’ said Mrs Baxter.
Mum took me and Olive into her arms and smiled at Tony, who I could see was trying to be brave and struggling not to cry. ‘It won’t be for long,’ she said, ‘and we’ll soon be together again.’
‘We’ll be fine, Mum,’ I said.
‘I know you will, my love.’
As if on cue, Freddie started to cry. I was glad, because it gave Mum something to do.
‘Let’s be off then,’ said Mrs Baxter, and we picked up our parcels and followed her out of the door, down the steps and into the fresh air. A soft rain was falling and London looked very grey and misty, as if the whole city was as sad as we were.
When we got down to the bottom of the steps I looked up at the flats. Mum was at the window where Tony had stood earlier, holding Freddie in her arms. Me and Olive waved and blew kisses but Tony didn’t look back – he just strode away in front of us.
Just then I heard my name being called and saw Angela running towards me. We put our arms around each other and hugged.
‘Take care of yourself,’ she said, ‘and come back to me safe and sound.’
She put her hand in her pocket and took out a little pink shell. ‘I got that in Margate, Nell,’ she said. ‘I want you to bring it back to me whe
n the war is over.’
‘I will. And Angela? Promise me that you will keep yourself safe.’
‘Don’t worry, Nell. Haven’t you heard? Only the good die young.’
It was hard to watch her walking away. This would have been so much easier if we could have left London together. I took one last look at the flats and followed Mrs Baxter and the others out onto the road.
* * *
Although we weren’t part of the main evacuation, there still seemed to be hundreds of kids on the platform, yelling and running around, making a hell of a noise. Some of the younger kids were clinging to their mothers’ skirts. Olive’s hand tightened in mine.
‘You’ll be all right, love,’ I said, looking down at her. ‘Me and Tony will look after you.’
‘I want me mum, Nell.’
‘I know you do, but she’ll soon be joining us, and little Freddie too.’
A plump woman in a bright red coat was trying to shout instructions to the crowd but no one could hear her over all the noise. All we could see was her mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish. A soldier in uniform handed her a loudspeaker and she tried again with renewed enthusiasm, her voice booming out across the station.
‘Mothers, you must say goodbye to your children now. We will take care of them and find them good homes, where they will be safe. Children, I need you to line up in twos, holding the hand of the child next to you.’
This piece of news brought a renewed wave of sobbing and crying as mothers tried to prise their children away from them. I was glad that Mum had stayed at home.
Mrs Baxter knelt down in front of Olive. ‘Now, be a good girl, Olive, and mind what Nell says.’
‘I want me mum,’ said Olive again.
‘I know you do, love, but you’ll see her soon.’
Mrs Baxter stood up then and put her arms around me. ‘I’ll miss you, ducks.’
‘I’ll miss you an all, Mrs Baxter,’ I said.
She knew better than to put her arms round Tony so she just laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘Take care of your sisters, Tony,’ she said.
Tony nodded and we watched her walk away across the platform. Me and Olive waved until she was out of sight. She was our last tie to home and it was hard to see her go.
We were lucky enough to find a carriage with some empty seats. I sat Olive down next to the window. I’d been on a train before but to my little sister it was all new and her eyes were wide with a mixture of excitement and worry as she looked around her.
‘Are you scared of the train, Olive?’ I asked gently.
‘I don’t think so, Nell,’ she said. ‘I think it smells friendly and the seat is nice and squishy. Does it go very fast?’
‘It goes slow to start with and then it picks up speed and then you can see the world rushing by. It’s lovely,’ I said.
I put my arm around her shoulder and together we looked out the window. Children were still being herded along the platform by the worried-looking woman, shouting instructions like: ‘Keep together, children! And don’t go near the edge! And hold tight to your bundles!’
‘Yes, I think I like the train,’ said Olive. ‘But I wish Mummy and Freddie was with us.’
‘I know you do, love, but you’re being very brave.’
‘It’s not easy being brave, Nell.’
‘That’s why I’m so proud of you, Olive, and I know Mummy would be too.’
Tony put our parcels in the rack above our heads but didn’t sit down. He was rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, looking anxious and on edge. I was still amazed that he had actually got on the train.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ I said.
He didn’t answer me and instead wound down the window and looked out.
Whistles started to blow and the train hissed and shuddered as it got ready to move off. Suddenly Tony reached up to the rack, grabbed his parcel, opened the carriage door and jumped down onto the platform.
I hung out the window. ‘Where are you going?’ I yelled after his retreating back.
‘Home,’ he yelled back. ‘Sorry, Nell.’
I watched him disappear into the crowd. I felt sick and alone as the full realisation that I was now solely responsible for Olive’s safety hit me like a hammer.
The train started to move slowly out of the station. There was nothing I could do: Tony had gone and we were on our own. I sat back down and put my arm around Olive.
‘Where’s Tony gone, Nell?’ she said.
‘He’s gone back home.’
‘Why isn’t he coming with us?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘You know what Tone’s like, Olive.’
She nodded and said very seriously: ‘He’s a bugger, Nell.’
‘Fraid so, love, but don’t worry, we’ll manage.’
‘You won’t leave me, will you, Nell?’
I smiled down at my little sister. ‘Never. I’ll never leave you.’
The train started gathering speed and I stared out the grubby window as it raced past streets and houses and allotments. I was leaving behind everything I loved. My beloved Bermondsey was disappearing into a cloud of smoke.
Chapter Five
The journey seemed endless. As the novelty of leaving London wore off, squabbles broke out between some of the boys and a few of the little ones started crying for their parents. I looked around the carriage; we were a rum lot, that was for sure. These were kids from the East End – most of them had never been on a train before, or moved beyond the streets and alleyways surrounding their homes. And for all their toughness, even the boys looked lost and bewildered. The reality of what was happening to them was beginning to sink in.
We shared our bread and dripping with two small boys who didn’t seem to have any food. They thanked us with cheeky little grins. Whoever picked these two was going to have to give them a jolly good scrub down, because it looked as if their faces had never been within a mile of water. By the way they were scratching at their heads, they were going to need de-lousing an’ all.
After we’d eaten, Olive fell asleep beside me. I stared out the window at the unfamiliar countryside. Little rivers ran between green fields, and cows and sheep dotted the hillside. It was a different world, a softer world. A world that I had known nothing about until now. My whole life had been spent around the tenements and streets of Bermondsey. I’d only ever seen cows and sheep in the butcher’s window and they were dead. I felt a stirring of excitement in the pit of my stomach and just for a moment I found myself almost looking forward to what was coming next.
We had to change trains twice and both times groups of children were led away to their new homes. Eventually we reached our destination, and the train slowed and stopped as we pulled into the station. I rubbed at the steamed-up window with my cardigan sleeve to try and see where we were, but all the signs had been painted over.
Our carriage door opened and a woman stuck her head inside.
‘Children,’ she said. ‘Get all your stuff together and gather on the platform. Chop, chop!’
I nudged Olive. ‘Wake up, love,’ I said. ‘We have to get off the train now.’
Olive rubbed sleepily at her eyes. ‘Are we there?’ she said.
‘I’m not sure,’ I told her. ‘All I know is that we’ve got to get off.’
Her eyes were filling with tears. ‘I want to go home, Nell.’
‘I know you do, love, but right now we have to do as we’re told and they’re telling us to get off the train. Okay?’
‘Okay, Nell,’ she said, yawning.
I took our parcels down from the rack and I helped Olive onto the platform.
She looked around her. ‘Where are we?’ she said.
‘I haven’t a clue. We could be in Timbuktu for all I know.’
‘Is that another country?’
‘I think so.’
The station was small, nothing like the stations in London, which were big and bustling and dark. There were wooden barrels full of daffodils bobbi
ng about.
The woman who had opened our carriage door seemed to be in charge.
‘I want you to hold hands and form an orderly line,’ she shouted. ‘We are walking to the village hall, where the good people of Glengaryth are waiting to meet you.’ Then she added: ‘It will help considerably if you behave yourselves and try to look presentable.’
I surveyed the motley crew of children standing on the platform, looking bewildered and travel-worn, and the word ‘presentable’ didn’t exactly spring to mind.
‘Everybody follow me,’ the woman shouted.
I held Olive’s hand tightly as we walked out of the station and down through the village street. It was all so different from anywhere I’d ever been before. Bermondsey was hard – everything about it was hard – but this place was soft. Even the air felt different, sort of fresh and clean. The street was made of cobbles and Olive kept stumbling on the uneven ground and grabbing onto my coat.
‘Bloody hell,’ she moaned. ‘Why haven’t they got a proper floor?’
‘Cos it ain’t Bermondsey,’ I said.
The houses and tenements at home were grey and dirty from all the smoke coming out of the chimneys and the mist coming off the river, but these little houses were lovely pale colours, pink and blue and yellow. It was so perfect it hardly looked real at all.
We passed a butcher’s shop and a grocer’s; they stood in the doorways and waved to us as we went. Everyone seemed so friendly and nice.
Kids came out of the little houses and started running beside us, making faces and calling out words we didn’t understand. The woman in charge shouted at them and tried to shoo them away but they were having none of it. Instead they strutted behind her, mimicking her walk. They stayed with us all the way to the village hall, where we were herded inside and the door firmly shut behind us.