The shrill of the train whistle made us all jump out of our seats.
The billeting officer came through and announced that we must find a teacher and get our names checked off before we left the train at the next stop.
Sam stared at me with wide eyes. He bit his bottom lip.
“Be confident,” I said. “We’re all terribly fond of you, and we need you to pull this off.”
He nodded.
We picked up our belongings, checked under the seats to make sure nothing was “lost forever,” and walked to the next carriage to see the teachers.
Gina clutched Molly as tightly as a tree holding onto its last leaf before winter comes.
“We’re supposed to get off at the next stop,” I said.
“Right,” said grumpy old Miss Peters. “Let’s have your names then.”
“Joyce and Gina Munsey.” I twisted my shoulder, so she could clearly see my identification tag.
“Molly Neal,” Molly said.
“Sam Nurdy,” Sam said.
“And Les James, who was supposed to get off with his sister at the last stop, but didn’t,” I said. Les stood beside me like a lost little duckling.
“Munsey, tick. Munsey, tick. Neal, tick. Nurdy. I don’t have anyone by that name.” Miss Peters cocked her head to one side and glared at Sam.
Sam shuffled his feet. “Umm, perhaps the list has me in order by my first name or my middle initial.”
“Give me your whole name,” Miss Peters grumbled.
“Samuel P. Nurdy.”
“Hmmmmm, here it is. Someone wrote it wrong. Useless people!” A bit of saliva dripped out of her grimacing mouth.
“What about Les?” I asked. Les was hiding behind me. His shaky hands hung on tightly to my skirt.
“Try and find someone who can help him get back to his sister,” Miss Peters ordered.
“Yes, Miss,” I replied.
“Don’t forget to keep your gas masks with you at all times,” the other teacher said.
“We won’t.” I said. We had to be prepared. Those stinking Germans might unleash gas on us at any time.
The train slowed to a stop. The carriage doors were opened. The five of us stepped onto the platform along with what seemed to be a hundred other children.
I’d never been so scared in my entire life. Not even the bombings in London were as scary as this. My heart raced, and my knees turned to jelly. I promised Mum I would be brave and take care of Gina, but it was harder than I thought. Who would choose us? Would they be kind? And most importantly, could Gina and I stay together?
Chapter Eighteen
September 11, 1940
4:30 PM
I took Gina and Les by the hands. We found a lady wearing a green and tan uniform. Sam and Molly followed us. We all wore our gas masks and identification tags and carried our meager belongings.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I said.
“Yes, Dear.”
“This is Les. His sister got off in Stafford, but she forgot him. Can you help him get back to her?” Les squeezed my hand so tightly that my fingernails turned red.
“Oh my! What a muddle.” She stood with her hands on her hips shaking her head. “Right, Young Man, let’s find someone who can help get you back to your sister.”
Les sniffled. We each gave him a cuddle and watched him walk away with the uniformed lady.
“I hope they find his sister,” Gina said with a somber face. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me. We’ll stick together like paste and paper.”
Most of the children were walking down the main road. I led the way for our little group. We joined the back of the evacuee parade. I worried about getting picked.
We watched as the children in front of us were pulled to the side, questioned, examined and either chosen or told to walk on. It was a long road, paved with cobblestones. Shops lined the road. I could see several church steeples. It must be a good Christian village. Surely, we would find kind people who were willing to take in two evacuees.
An elderly man called out to Sam. “Young Man, come here and have a chat with me.”
Sam looked at me, with eyes the size of saucers, and his face ashened. He took a deep breath and walked over to the gentleman.
“Afternoon, Governor.”
“What nice manners you have young man. Are you always this polite?”
“I try to be Sir. Me mum would give me a good thrashing if I didn’t be.”
“Are you a hard worker or a lazy city child?”
“I’m a hard worker,” Sam straightened up and thrust out his chest. “I’ve always helped at home. I carried our coal in and worked in the victory garden.” Sam stepped backwards. “I always did what I was told.”
“Hmmm,” the old man scratched the back of his head. “How would you like to live with me? I have a small cottage on the edge of the village. I need a lad to help me while my sons are fighting in that horrible war.”
“I’d like that very much.” Sam let out a huge breath and waved goodbye to us. A smile crept across his face as he and the elderly man walked off together.
“Oh, that’s good,” said Molly. “It seems Sam found a nice home.”
“It does indeed.” I crossed my fingers and hoped the man didn’t plan to work him too hard. It sounded like he wanted a helper more than he wanted to help an evacuee.
The number of children walking down the road dwindled and so did the number of people picking.
“Keep your chin up and keep smiling,” I said.
An elderly lady approached us.
“You,” she said pointing at Molly. “Are you Christian?”
“Yes, Missus. I’ve been going to church as long as I can remember.”
Then Molly did something that surprised me.
“Are you Christian?” Molly asked the lady.
The lady roared with laughter. “You’re a cheeky thing, aren’t you? I enjoy people with a bit of humor. Would you like to stay with me?”
“I believe I would,” Molly said.
Molly gave Gina a cuddle and squeezed me tightly.
Gina sighed and looked at me with sad eyes.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Someone will pick us soon.”
We kept walking. Some of the shops had signs in the windows that said, “Closed For The War.” A queue of people came out of one shop and ended at the end of the road. Perhaps they were signing up to join the war effort? Or perhaps that shop had rashers of bacon for sale.
I glanced at each side of the road. No one looked our way. I tried to put on a pleasant smile, but the perspiration running down my back made it hard. We were both a filthy mess. Perhaps no one would take us. Perhaps they thought we had no manners or were ruffians. I certainly looked like one with a black eye. But perhaps because we were holding hands, they knew we needed to stay together, and no one wanted to pick two evacuees.
“Keep your chin up, Gina,” I said. “We’ll find a host family soon.” We kept walking.
On the side of the road, a lady stood holding hands with a girl. The girl’s red hair curled around her ears, and she had lots of freckles. She wore a lovely blue pinafore dress. The lady was small in stature. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a plain green dress with tiny pleats across the top. Her sparkly eyes and laugh lines made me confident that she would be the one to pick us.
She looked at me and smiled. I blinked and smiled back. Then she and the red-headed girl walked up to us.
“My n
ame is Missus Wood, but everyone calls me Ma,” she said. “Are you sisters?”
“We are.” I tried to smile. I needed to impress this lady. She was the only person who’d showed any interest in us. “We’re hoping we can stay together during the war. Gina’s rather little and I don’t think it’d be good for her to be alone with strangers.”
“My goodness, you have a solid head on your shoulders,” Missus Wood said. “Grandpa Wood said we should take in one evacuee, but…,” she rested her hands on her hips. “What do you think Phyllis? How could Grandpa Wood refuse these two lovely girls?”
Phyllis shook her head. Her eyes sparkled like the morning dew on the grass.
“If you took in both of us, I promise we would behave. We’d help you around your house. We’d make good marks at school. We wouldn’t be a bother to you or to Grandpa Wood.”
“How old are you?” Missus Wood asked.
“I’m eleven and a half. Gina is five. Her real name is Regina, but no one calls her that.”
“You haven’t told me your name yet,” Missus Wood said.
“I’m Joyce.”
“Well, Joyce, this is my Phyllis, and she’s ten.” Missus Wood turned to Phyllis. “What do you think?”
“It would be smashing to have them live with us until the end of the war.” A smiled crept across her entire face. “I’d have someone to play with all the time.”
I hoped Grandpa Wood was as pleasant as Missus Wood and Phyllis. Surely, he would let us both stay.
Phyllis took Gina’s bag. Missus Wood took mine. We walked hand in hand towards our new home.
I closed my eyes and let all the air out of my chest. Everything would work out. Gina and I would be together if Grandpa Wood agreed to it…
Chapter Nineteen
September 11, 1940
5:30 PM
“I hope you aren’t going to get in trouble with Grandpa Wood,” I said to Missus Wood.
“Grandpa has a kind heart. I’m sure he’ll welcome you with very little convincing.”
We turned off the road and onto a small path. The path ran alongside an old stone wall. Wild roses climbed over the wall in places. They had white blossoms with yellow centers and a lovely scent. Groups of sparrows flew out of them.
“Please don’t think I am loopy, but the air here smells better,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure it does. All that bombing in London must have the air full of dust and smoke,” Missus Wood said.
“That must be it, but I can smell things I’ve never smelled before. I think I can even smell the grass, but that’s silly. Grass doesn’t smell.”
“What you smell is the fresh green countryside. It’s bound to be different than in London, even before the war began.”
Gina grinned. Her eyes began to smile. “Dolly and I like it here. There are no ruined houses, and it’s quiet.”
“Is your doll’s name Dolly?” Phyllis asked.
“Yes, Nanny gave her to me for my last birthday.”
“Well, she certainly needs a bath.”
“Everyone will have a bath when we get home,” Missus Wood said.
“That would be lovely. It feels as if it’s been ages since we’ve had a good washing up. We lost our toilet when the bombing started. We were lucky to have water in the kitchen.” I brushed off my blouse and tucked my tangled hair behind my ears.
“Well then, it’s about time. Isn’t it?” Missus Wood said.
Gina nudged me and then glanced at Dolly.
“Dolly can have a bath too,” I whispered.
We strolled along the path for a long time. I spotted a cottage at the end of the path. It had lovely gray bricks, and green vines grew up the walls. There were bushes and trees in the garden. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“Is that your house, Missus Wood?” I asked.
“It is. Do you think you can be happy living in such a small country home?”
“Oh, yes. It will be lovely.” I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I’d rather have been back home. Our road looked and felt very different than hers did.
Missus Wood opened the gate to the front garden. Beautiful yellow roses grew beside the fence. We walked up the stone pathway to the front door. A black number eleven hung on the door, just above the letterbox. The door was white and arched at the top. I’d never seen a lovelier doorway.
We wiped our feet on the doormat before we went in. Getting the floor dirty the first time we went in the house would not leave a good impression. We needed to make a good impression so Grandpa Wood would approve of us.
“Well, the first thing we should do is have a cuppa and something sweet. What do you think, Phyllis?” Missus Wood asked.
Phyllis nodded. “I’ll get the cups and saucers.” She dashed over to the cupboard.
“What should we do, Missus Wood?” I asked.
“Today, you are guests, so you shall do nothing other than rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be family, and then you can help. And when you’re comfortable with it, you can call me Ma or Ma Wood.”
Gina and I sat at the table. It felt funny not helping. I always helped at home. Missus Wood opened a big door on the front of the stove and put in a piece of wood. On the top of the stove, there were lots of copper pots, and on the side, there was a tap, which made no sense at all. Why would a stove have a tap? Missus Wood didn’t have a hutch or many cupboards to keep things in. She had tins stacked up in lines on the counter.
To my surprise, she poured water out of the tap on the stove and into a lovely white teapot with green leaves and little red berries on it. She covered it with a red and white tea cozy. Phyllis got out the cups and saucers and some small plates. She gave us each a spoon and a knife. Missus Wood opened a big round tin on the counter and pulled out four scones.
“I hope you all like fruit scones,” she said.
She poured everyone a cup of tea. She did it differently than the way Mum did it. She poured the tea in first and then the milk. Then she and Phyllis sat at the table with us.
“Please pass the butter,” Phyllis said.
I passed the butter. Gina and I gobbled up our fruit scone without any butter on it. My stomach still grumbled, but it would have been greedy to ask for more. Not the kind of impression I wanted Missus Wood or Grandpa Wood to have of me.
Gina slurped her tea. I kicked her under the table and gave her the look that Mum gives her when she does that at home. She straightened up in her chair and stopped slurping.
“I believe,” Missus Wood said, “we should give you two and Dolly a bath before Grandpa comes home. Does that sound good to you?”
“Yes, Missus Wood,” I said.
Missus Wood picked up a big bucket and filled it with water from the tap on the side of the stove. Then she went out the kitchen door and dragged in a big tin tub.
“Aren’t they going to have a bath outside?” Phyllis asked.
“Not this time, Dear. I expect they’re not used to bathing in the garden.”
My jaw dropped. They took baths in the garden. What a strange thing to do. I wondered what other strange things people did in the countryside.
Missus Wood poured some cold water in the tub and then added the hot water. “Who wants to go first?”
Gina jumped out of her chair. “Me, and Dolly too!”
Gina flung off her gas mask and stripped. “Can I get in now?”
Missus Wood chuckled. “Yes, you can. Do you want to play a bit before we wash your hair and give you a good scrubbing?”
“Oh, yes,” Gina said.
“I�
��ll get her some toys,” Phyllis said. “Why don’t you come with me, Joyce?”
I followed her into the other room and up the narrow stairwell. The walls were a pale blue colour. Framed photographs hung above the handrail.
“Are those your relatives?”
“Some of them are,” Phyllis said. “That’s my dad. He’s off at war.”
“My dad’s at the war too,” I said. “It’s rather scary to think about, isn’t it?”
“My stomach knots up like a ball of wool when I think of him being near those mean old Germans. I try not to think about it too much. I do say a prayer for him and my uncles every night.” Phyllis put her hand on the photograph of her father. I felt her sadness.
“I don’t like thinking about it either. Some people on our street died in air raids. War is a nasty business.”
Phyllis whispered, “Gosh.” Then she pushed open a door. “This is my room.”
“Oh, my. It’s lovely!”
A single bed sat in one corner with a desk opposite it. The room was that same gentle blue colour as the hallway. The most beautiful bedspread covered Phyllis’s bed. It had blue and green vines with tiny purple flowers. The curtains were made of the same material. A big wardrobe stood opposite the bed. A little lamp with a blue shade hung above the bed. A long thin shelf ran alongside the bed. It had books, rocks, and dolls on it. I would have to talk to Gina about not touching things in Phyllis’s room unless she was given permission.
“You and Gina will be in the other bedroom,” she said. “It’s a bit bigger than mine, so it’ll be perfect for the two of you.”
Phyllis opened the wardrobe and pulled out a yellow duck and a small blue and white sailboat.
“I bet Gina will enjoy playing with these in her bath. They were mine when I was little.”
Sharing her toys with Gina showed me how kind Phyllis was. She would be the perfect friend for us. We’d do just fine here, as long as Grandpa Wood allowed us to stay. I certainly hoped he would.
Keep Calm and Carry On, Children Page 7