5. 5
Acknowledgements
Many thanks, to my parents who wittingly or
unwittingly provided the inspiration for my story.
I would also like to give a special mention to the
following people, who have tirelessly devoted their
time to read and offer their expertise:
Gabrielle Rollinson: Personal Tutor - Oxford Open
Learning Course - Writing for Children for editing my
first draft of 5,000 words.
Valerie Byron: author of 'No Ordinary Woman' and
other works for editing my extended version.
Trish Reeb: author of 'Death by Default' and other
works for proofreading.
Patrick Sean Lee: author of 'One Year on Meade
Street' and other works for advising me re. my opening
chapter.
Dave Ardent: for critiquing my opening chapter.
Geoffrey Clarke for research material.
Ann-Marie Bellerson for research material.
Tatyana Black: for her support.
7. 7
Dedication
I wrote this book for my children, Nathan and Kyrsten and for
all the young children who have started to learn about World War
2. I hope they have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
I am also dedicating this book in loving memory of my beloved
Mum and Dad. Thank you, for sharing your childhood experiences.
9. 9
Chapter One
It was mid-summer 1944, and the air at Waterloo
station was filled with smoke billowing from the steam
trains, officials shouting orders to the masses and
families, friends and neighbours chatting nervously,
hugging each other or begging officials (or anyone who
would listen to them) for more information.
Doris, a lone traveller who was very sprightly
considering her advanced years, wandered up and down
the train station, checking the name tags pinned to each
person's coat in an effort to find out their destination.
More often than not, she would address the person
by their first name and say something like, “Hi
Maureen! I’m Doris … oh; that’s a shame yer tag says
your heading for Meadow Brook Valley. I’m hoping to
find someone who will be my neighbour in Honesty
Brook Dale. It’s been nice chatting to you. Have a safe
journey, dear.”
As Doris bustled around the platform, she recognised
a red haired girl holding her younger brother’s hand,
and looking intently at their parents. Doris paused,
instinctively and listened to their conversation.
“I’ve asked the officials to house you and Luke
together, Marianne … I just pray to God; they keep
their promise,” said the mother, dabbing her eyes with
her handkerchief.
Marianne Senior bit her lower lip and swallowed
hard in order to stop herself from crying. Looking down
10. 10
at her daughter, and in a no-nonsense voice, she
continued, “Marianne, I am relying on you to make sure
Luke minds his manners at all times, and says please
and thank you. Just be grateful for everything that is put
on the table … and eat it whether you like it or not.
Furthermore, don’t wait to be asked! Remember to
offer to help yer new family with the chores and do
everything that is asked of ya - without complaining
and last but not least, don't forget to check that Luke
washes behind his ears and brushes his teeth and hair.”
Her husband gently placed a reassuring hand on her
shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Marianne. I’m sure
the Women’s Voluntary Service will keep families
together wherever possible but if not, I’ve heard tell
that Honesty Brook Dale is just a small village, so I’m
sure our Marianne will still be able to keep ‘an eye’ on
him.”
Doris smiled with compassion at the young girl and
turning to her parents, said, “Excuse me. I couldn’t help
but overhear that your children will be staying in
Honesty Brook Dale. I used to attend the local chapel
and have noticed them in the congregation several
times. They are very well mannered. I don’t mind
watching over them, if you would like me to?”
The youngsters’ parents couldn’t thank Doris enough
for putting their minds at ease.
On the far side of the platform, a young dark-haired
boy, who had been severely scarred during the war, was
clinging to his mother, crying and pleading with her,
“Please, Mum, don’t make me go without ya. Simon
and Samuel are in the class below me at school, and
11. 11
they say their mum has been allowed to travel with
them – so why can’t ya come with me?”
His mother shook her head, tears coursing down her
cheeks, as she held him close and said, “Graham, I
don’t want you to leave … but it’s not safe for you to
stay here … and believe me when I say I’ve begged the
officials to let me travel with you. I have also spoken to
the twins' mother, Madge, on more than one occasion
when we sought refuge in the communal air raid
shelters, and I know she has three other girls, one of
whom is only two years of age … and in another two or
three months, she will have a new addition to the
family.”
A sudden commotion to the right of them helped
momentarily to ease the situation. An elderly man was
jigging around, shouting thanks to God for his new
home and family. As they watched, they noticed a
member of the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS)
approach and point him in the direction of one of the
trains.
“Excuse me,” Graham’s mother shouted to her,
“whom should we speak to about Graham being
escorted to Honesty Brook Dale.”
“Only those who are on the list will be allowed to
travel,” the WVS shouted dismissive. “If your child is
going to Honesty Brook Dale, he will need to catch this
train and then alight at Endlea Brook Dale. He will be
given further directions when he gets there. I should
hurry up and say your goodbyes as you don’t have long
before the train departs.”
12. 12
At this precise moment, the guard blew his whistle
and a sea of hands and faces pressed either side of the
windows in desperation. As the train started to pull
away from the station Graham's mother resigned herself
to step back on the platform with a throng of other
parents. The windows were smudged with tears,
fingerprints and lipstick. However, Marianne's parents,
along with a few others, ran alongside the train hoping
to gain a few more invaluable seconds with their loved
ones.
During the journey, the elderly man wandered up
and down the corridor between the carriages, amusing
the youngsters with childish jokes. He finally settled in
Graham’s carriage and introduced himself to anyone
who was in the least bit interested, as Malcolm.
“Does anyone know why we are fighting this time?”
he asked, but swiftly continued before anyone could
answer. “I thought we had all made back friends, but ya
can never tell. I thought the last war was over ... in 1914
or was it 1915 ... I can't remember now - but I do know
it were Christmas Day. I remember having fun playing
football with the enemy one day and then having to
fight them the next. ”
Graham tugged at his sleeve and said, “I know what
ya mean. I was sent away from me mum for a short
while at the beginning of this war … but as nothing
much were happening I was sent back home. Me mum
was glad to see me and we thought the war had ended
... until our house got bombed ....”
13. 13
“Is that when ya got hurt?” Malcolm asked.
Graham tugged at his sleeve and said, “I know what
ya mean. I was sent away with a few of me friends for a
short while at the beginning of this war. I thought it was
all over when we were sent back home ... but then our
house got bombed ....”
“Did ya manage to save ya pet?”
Graham shook his head solemnly, “I didn’t want to
leave me mum again and pleaded with her to stay …
but she insisted she was doing it for me own good. I
think she was terrified about the new bombs they’re
using because I overheard her talking to one of me
neighbours.”
“That’ll be the doodlebugs ….”
Further along the train, Doris was making small talk
with Madge, but made her excuse to leave as soon as
the children became restless and showed signs of
unruliness.
Standing up, Doris smiled at Madge and said, “I
won’t be long I’m just going to stretch my legs,”
whereas, in reality, she was going in search of
Marianne and Luke.
She found the young girl smiling and whispering
words of comfort to her brother at the far end of the
train.
“Are you both all right?” Doris enquired.
14. 14
Although, Marianne nodded confidently and politely
responded, “Yes, thank you,” she could not hide the
fear in her eyes from Doris.
“Would you mind if I join you? I’m feeling a bit
lonely … and if I am honest, a little scared at the
moment. It doesn’t seem so long ago when I had to
wave goodbye to my two sons when they were
evacuated during the last war. It’s hard being away
from your parents, isn’t it?”
Marianne nodded and hugged her brother. She liked
Doris.
The train pulled into Endlea Brook station six hours
later and the evacuees alighted, feeling tired and
hungry. However, their journey was not over … the
next part had to be covered by foot.
The WVS swiftly instructed them to form two
smaller groups - one for Meadow Brook Valley and the
other for Honesty Brook Dale, depending on the
location they had been designated.
Madge carried her youngest child on her bump,
whilst the older children helped by carrying their brown
paper parcels and gas masks. Doris assisted the family
as best she could. Marianne followed behind and held
onto Luke's hand. In her other hand, she carried a small
leather suitcase.
15. 15
Every so often, the WVS would stop and count their
heads to check no one was missing. It was at one such
point that they noticed the dark-haired boy had begun to
lag behind.
They waited for him to catch up and then Malcolm
fell in step beside him and said, “I hope it’s not much
longer. Me bones are hurting … are yours, Graham?”
Graham didn’t have chance to answer as Malcolm
continued talking.
“I don’t care if I have to sleep on the floor. At least, I
will have a roof over me head and not have to worry
about them bombs.”
Graham nodded and said, “I’m frightened. What if
they don’t like us?”
Malcolm was at a loss for words. He had never
contemplated this possibility.
17. 17
Chapter 2
Earlier that day the children of Honesty Brook Dale
had attended school, which was located in the church
hall. The room was separated into two areas: one
section for the five to seven-year olds, and the other for
the eight to twelve-year olds.
The older children chanted their times tables in
unison while their teacher, Mrs. Brown, tapped the
blackboard with her thinnest cane. No one dared talk or
turn their head for fear of the board rubber being
thrown in their direction. Each child, regardless of age,
had been taught to respect their elders and never to
question their ruling. Even if the adult was wrong, the
child would still have been disciplined for being
disrespectful.
Mrs. Brown suddenly noticed ten-year old Cyril
Blessum fidgeting at his desk. She raised her hand to
halt the class. The board rubber was poised in her other
hand, ready to be thrown.
"Am I boring you, Master Blessum? Do you think
you're too clever to learn these formulas?"
Cyril started to shift uneasily in his seat.
"No ma'am! I just don't understand why they say the
three Rs stand for reading, writing and arithmetic. I
would have thought -"
"I haven't asked you to reason things out. I have
simply asked you to show you have learnt the formulas
18. 18
– understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Louder - I can't hear you when you mutter."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Good ... then we will continue! Class will be
dismissed before lunch today, but first it is important
that I talk to you about the war. These times have led to
new beginnings for many ...."
Mrs. Brown's voice droned on … about friendships,
comradeship and sharing. However, the only formula
Cyril could conjure up was war equalled devastation
and loss.
As the morning’s lessons came to a close, Mrs.
Brown told the children that their school day would end
as soon as they had each placed their chair onto their
desk. Following this task, the children stood in an
orderly line by the door waiting to file out of the
classroom.
After what seemed like an eternity Mrs. Brown
stated, “Class dismissed - not you Cyril Blessum. I
want a word with you.”
Her manner softened as the last child closed the
door. "Cyril, I know it’s hard times. Your father was a
brave man who was proud to fight for his country. He
loved his family."
"He wasn't being brave, ma’am. He was sent one of
19. 19
them pieces of paper telling him he had to fight in the
war. I used to see him crying in the back yard when I
looked through me bedroom window," the child
sniffled.
"That makes him all the braver in my book, Cyril,
and that's why it is important for you to make your
father proud in return. Tomorrow is a new day, and you
will meet others who are in a worse situation than
yourself."
Cyril blinked back tears and muttered his apologies
and then shuffled out of the classroom.
As he walked across the churchyard, he kicked the
loose pebbles, deep in thought: She doesn’t understand.
I don’t want a hero who can’t hug you, or be there for
you ... I just want me Dad.
Even the shrill voices of his fellow classmates failed
to cut through his thoughts. It wasn’t until a ball almost
hit him on the head that he stopped in his tracks and
looked across the green, which was the heart of the
village. He smiled when he recognized the ball as one
of Farmer Townsend’s creations. It was made from a
pig’s bladder.
Cyril recalled how his dad had often said, “The only
thing ya can’t use on a pig is its squeal.”
“Over here Cyril!”
“Pass it to me –”
“No to me!”
20. 20
“Come on, buddy,” his mates pleaded.
Cyril’s initial reaction was to sidestep the ball and
continue walking, but deep down he knew what his dad
would have done. So he turned on his heel and booted
the ball back to his friends.
21. 21
Chapter 3
“Mam, I’m home!” Cyril shouted as he dropped his
satchel on the lounge floor. “Mrs Brown says we can
have the rest of the day off.”
A gaunt looking woman appeared from the kitchen,
dusting flour from her hands down her pinafore.
“Good! Ya can pop ‘round ya Aunty Gladys’s and fetch
me a couple of eggs for the pie. Be quick, mind, as I
need ya to run another errand, before the shops shut.”
Cyril was chuckling so loudly on his return, Rachel,
his mother, had to rush to retrieve the small cereal bowl
his Aunty Gladys had loaned him, wherein three hen’s
eggs rattled.
“What’s tickled yer fancy, Master Blessum? Ya
sound like one of them birds Mr Townsend gave yer
Aunty Gladys.”
“Ooh Mam, ya should see where Aunty Gladys and
Uncle Reuben have put the chickens! They’ve fixed
some wire netting around the table legs in the kitchen
and put them under there because they kept chasing
Scamp 'round the yard. He was pecked so many times
she thinks he has no bark left in him … but that can’t be
right Mam; I heard Scamp barking only this morning.”
“I hope you didn’t let her see you giggling? I didn’t
bring you up to be rude … people matter, not things -
items can be replaced. ‘Please and thank you’ don't hurt
anyone. Besides Aunty Gladys and Uncle Reuben have
been good to us since yer dad died.”
22. 22
“Sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to upset her. I did say
'thank you' – honest. Do ya want me to go back ‘round
and say sorry for being rude about her birds, Henny
Penny and Peckham?”
His mother tutted and then said, “I’ll pop ‘round and
see her when I’ve finished here, and if you’ve upset
her; you will have to go ‘round and apologise. First of
all, though I need ya to pop to the grocers to fetch me a
pound of onions. I couldn’t fetch them this morning as
Mr Williams still needed to go to his allotment. Be
quick mind, as the shops are closing early today, and I
need to finish the pie before our George comes home
from the farm.”
As Cyril stepped out of his front door, he was
surprised to see a group of strangers on the far side of
the common. He couldn’t make his mind up if they
were heading for PC Roberts' house or Dr Brown’s
surgery, as they seemed to be propping each other up.
He started to walk in the opposite direction towards Mr
and Mrs Williams’ grocery shop, but stopped after a
few steps to crane his neck. Everyone knew everyone,
and most were related to each other as they had married
cousins of cousins. It was rare for strangers to pass
through, and even solitary ones stood out like a boil on
the end of your nose - so a group was something to be
reckoned with.
By the time he had reached the Miners' Brook
Tavern, he was puzzled to see that the strangers didn’t
need medical or police help.
Perhaps, they will head down the main track towards
the opencast mines to ask for work, he pondered. I’ll
23. 23
ask Reuben when I pop ‘round to Aunty Gladys’s. He'll
know as he was made to work them mines. Perhaps they
have also been conscripted as Bev … Bevin's boys the
same as me Uncle Reuben and his son, Reuben.
By the time he had reached the door of the grocer’s
shop, his curiosity had virtually reached bursting point
as the group had finally reached their destination. They
were heading into the very building he had been taught
in, earlier that day.
As he turned back towards the shop, Peggy Williams
was just about to pull the lead bolt across the door.
Cyril tapped the pane of glass and politely mouthed,
“Please.”
She beckoned him to stay where he was and walked
back into the shop. When she returned she held a small
brown paper bag and offered it to Cyril.
“Tell yer Mam that Harold … Mr Williams … has
only been able to allow her one onion as he has had a
bad crop this year. He has given her one of his best,
though.”
“Thank you,” Cyril murmured as he held out a
halfpenny to Mrs Williams.
“It’s ok, Cyril, tell yer Mam, there will be no charge.
She’s promised me a piece of pie when she’s finished
baking it. Mind ya put that money safe, now. I will ask
yer Mam if you've given it to her.”
Cyril nodded and pushed the money into his shoe for
safekeeping. “Thank you,” he muttered again.
24. 24
“In fact, young man, I’m going your way, so I’ll
walk with ya. Time passes quicker if you have someone
to natter to. Mr Williams had to go back up to his
allotment and won’t be able to join me until later.”
Cyril seized the opportunity and said, “I saw a lot of
strange people walking on the other side of the
common. I think they went into the hall … well that’s
what it looked like when I was outside your shop.”
“I’m surprised your teacher, Mrs Brown, didn’t
explain to you so that you were prepared for their
arrival.”
“She said something about meeting people tomorrow
… but nothing about today. I hope they are nice -”
“I shouldn’t worry, Cyril. They probably think the
same of us. Go straight into your house. Yer mam will
be waiting for the onion – and don’t forget to give her
the money. Also tell her Mr and Mrs Williams say,
‘Hello.’”
“How long will they be staying for? I don’t think
they have any beds in the hall. Least I haven’t seen
any.”
“Ooh, I do believe that’s Mr and Mrs Bailey from
the Miners Brook Tavern. Excuse me Cyril. If I can
catch up with them, it will save me having to go in by
myself - Beryl!"
"Oh Beryl, I’m glad I caught you,” she gasped as she
drew level with them.
25. 25
The women duly dropped behind Mr Bailey and
started chatting together.
“I didn’t expect to see you and Ron this evening,
otherwise, I would have suggested walking down to the
hall together. What’s made you have a change of heart
about looking after someone else’s kid?”
“No change of heart, Peggy. I can understand that
you and Harold may be desperate for a child to call
your own. It must have been hard losing your little one,
especially after having so many miscarriages, but with
Ron and me, it’s different. We never planned to have
little ones of our own. You see we both feel the pub is
no place for kids. I’m only going to the hall this
afternoon because I’ve been told there may be a few
older people among them that need housing. We are
just looking for now and keeping our options open.”
Cyril listened in astonishment to his neighbours'
chatter. Thankfully, the women hadn’t realized that he
had decided to follow them and was straining to
overhear their conversation; otherwise, they would have
sent him straight home with a sore ear.
As they neared the hall, Cyril stepped into the
shadow of the adjoining chapel. It was the ideal spot to
observe the comings and goings of the village hall. His
curiosity, however, started to bubble over when he
recognized Father Tyne standing in the doorway,
greeting each of the villagers in turn. The only times he
had seen Father Tyne in the village was when he
opened the chapel for one hour on alternate Sunday
mornings, or every third Sunday evening of each month
for Holy Communion.
26. 26
Mam says he is very caring, and that he gives
generously of his time as he has already held a service
in our sister church in Endlea Brook prior to visiting us
and on the weeks we don’t see him he is holding a
service in Meadow Brook Valley … and me Uncle
Reuben says he never rushes to leave when the service
ends. Instead, he kindly takes time to visit the Miners
Brook Tavern to have a drink with the villagers who
could not make it to the chapel that day, Cyril
contemplated.
He waited until he saw the door shut, then walked
across to the window to take a closer look.
He held onto the window ledge and pulled himself
up onto his tiptoes. The little he could see only served
to whet his appetite. The strangers had been grouped on
a stage at the far end of the room, and the villagers
seemed to be standing in clusters observing them.
Cyril stepped back from the window and glanced
towards the direction of his house and then to the
entrance of the hall.
“Oh, what to do?” he muttered.
A peek shouldn’t hurt as long as I run back home
afterwards. Mam should still have time to cook the pie
before George gets home.
He walked carefully across the grassy area to the
doorway and cautiously pushed it open, looking for a
hidey hole to observe the strangers. However, he soon
realised there was no need to worry as many of the
villagers were too absorbed listening to Father Tyne
27. 27
introducing an official-looking lady clad in a green
coat, green and burgundy scarf and a felt hat as Doreen
Matthews, a member of the Women’s Voluntary
Service.
Afterwards, when Father Tyne and the lady mingled
among the groups, thanking them for their support,
Cyril strained to listen. He managed to catch a snippet
of their conversation with his teacher, Mrs Brown and
her husband, Dr Brown.
“Eric and I would love to house all the younger
children. They will want for nothing health wise or
educational – I promise.”
“I am sure any child will prosper under your roof,
Edith, but if possible, Doreen doesn’t want to split
families. She feels it is important for the younger
children to stay with their older brothers and sisters or,
in one case, their mother … and I tend to agree with
her.”
“The trouble is … the older children will already
have learned bad ways and will be harder to control,”
she replied.
“I believe I have the ideal child for you,” Doreen
said, reassuringly. “Graham is one of our older
children. He is a very bright young man, but he lost a
lot of schooling after his home was bombed. He was
lucky to survive. His face and body are badly scarred,
and he needs to use a stick to walk. He will need a lot
of help to mix with the other children, but I am sure he
will flourish in the right hands.”
28. 28
The doctor and his wife swapped glances whilst
Cyril sat in awe.
“I thank the good Lord, Mrs Matthews, that he has
guided you to us. I will see to it personally that Graham
settles into the school and gets the education he
deserves,” Edith replied. ‘Mark my words, no one, old
or young, will say a bad thing – not in my presence.”
Cyril smiled. He knew Mrs Brown was a woman of
her word, and she would do everything in her power to
make sure her promise was carried out.
“I am sure Graham will grow in confidence and
spirit thanks to yourself and the good doctor. Would
you like to meet him?” Mrs Matthews asked.
Before either Edith or Eric could reply Peggy
Williams came bustling up and asked, “Has anyone
offered to take in the young woman carrying the small
child?”
“She also has two other girls and twin boys, with
another child on the way. If possible they would like to
be re-housed together,” Doreen stated. “Would you be
able to accommodate them?”
“We will manage somehow - even if it means
someone has to sleep on the settee.”
Cyril perched on the edge of one of the writing desks
and strained his neck to follow their path through the
congregation to check out which of the children Doreen
Matthews had been referring to.
29. 29
His mood, however, suddenly took a down turn
when he spotted Aunty Gladys and Uncle Reuben
walking briskly towards the entrance. He could feel the
sweat starting to drip from his brow in case they saw
him, but thankfully they seemed too absorbed talking to
an elderly lady to consider his presence.
Aunty Gladys and Uncle Reuben were closely
followed by Mrs Williams’ party. Cyril thought he was
in trouble for sure this time as Mrs Williams seemed to
pause slightly and glare at him. He half expected to be
rousted out of his seat by his ear and hollered at all the
way home.
As they left the building, Cyril started to relax again
and his attention returned to the stage. His eyes lit up,
and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile as he
caught sight of the prettiest young girl for miles around.
He could feel his cheeks burning and was certain they
matched the shade of her plaits. He was so
flabbergasted when she returned his smile that he
became flustered and stared at his feet. When he next
looked up, he was delighted to see that she and a
smaller boy were being helped off the stage by Farmer
Townsend.
“I might have known you would be here, Cyril," said
a familiar voice. "Mam has been pulling her hair out
with worry. When I couldn’t see you on the Green, I
must have cycled every inch of the fields at the back of
our house. Mam was at her wits end when I returned to
the house without you. Thankfully, I was heading for
PC Roberts house to report ya missing when I bumped
into Aunty Gladys and Uncle Reuben. Aunty Gladys
didn’t want to get ya in trouble, but Uncle Reuben
30. 30
could see how worried I was. He told me to try in here.
In fact, he told me the exact spot you were sitting in.”
“Sorry, George, I didn’t think -”
“That’s yer trouble, Cyril. You just don’t think. Have
you even thought to buy the cooking onions?”
Cyril looked sheepish and said, “Oh no … the onion.
I must have left it under the window … outside.”
George lightly cuffed his ear, “Ya had better hope
it’s still there our kid, or ya will be going to bed without
any tea tonight.”
Cyril was so shocked and embarrassed by George’s
outburst that he had to try very hard not to cry. George
had taken it on himself to become the man of the house
since their dad’s departure, and although Cyril hadn’t
asked him to, he had still respected it. It wasn’t so long
ago he could rely on George to help him to clear up any
mess he had made. Like the time he let the water boil
dry in the copper kettle. The deafening bang had sent
his mam screaming and running from the living room
into the kitchen, thinking the house had been bombed.
George had taken care of everything back then … so
what's changed?
“After you, George,” gestured Farmer Townsend, as
both groups had reached the doorway at the same time.
“Hello, Cyril, hope you’re being good for yer mam
and yer brother?”
31. 31
Cyril gulped hard and muttered, “Yes, sir … I do
try, honest.”
“Very trying,” George muttered.
“Excuse me,” Cyril stuttered. “I dropped something
on my way in, and I have to try and find it.”
“I hope it’s nothing valuable, young man?” Farmer
Townsend asked.
“Me Mam thinks it’s valuable,” George replied.
As Cyril started to exit the building, George tapped
him on the shoulder and warned him, “Be quick about
it! I’ll wait by the bike.”
“I dread to think what will happen when the time
comes for him to be the man of the house,” George
said, turning back to the farmer and shaking his head.
As Cyril looked for the brown paper bag, he
pondered George’s comment to the farmer: Imagine -
me being able to tell our George what he can and
cannot do. As if he’s ever going to let that happen?
Cyril finally found what he was looking for. He
picked up the bag and gave a huge sigh of relief. He ran
across to George and held out the crumpled dirty paper
bag for him to see.
“I lost my balance when I stepped down from the
window. I just thought I had stepped on a stone -
honest. I had forgotten all about the onion,” he
apologized.
32. 32
George opened the bag and inspected the onion and
then raised his eyebrows at Cyril.
“I was only allowed one. Mrs Williams has sent our
money back as Mam’s promised her a piece of pie.”
“Well, it won’t be any thanks to you if
Mam manages to bake it today.”
As they walked back to the house, the only words
George uttered were to acknowledge Mr and Mrs
Bailey and their new acquaintance - an elderly man in
his late seventies.
“Sorry Mam,” Cyril blurted out even before he had
stepped into the doorway.
“Where do you think you have been until now? Me
and our George have been worried sick. I’ve a good
mind to send ya back to the shop with the onions to
teach ya a lesson. I’ve had to make the pie without
them.”
“Mrs Williams only gave him one onion, Mam, but
she has sent your money back - hasn’t she Cyril?”
Cyril stooped down and eased the money out of his
shoe and passed it to his mother.
“Do you want to tell Mam where you’ve been … or
do you want me to?” George continued.
“It’s ok, George. I don’t need to listen to his
nonsense. Mrs Williams has already dropped by and
told me what’s happened. He can go straight to his
33. 33
bedroom and stay there for the rest of the evening.”
Cyril knew it was pointless arguing. Instead, he took
his frustration out on the wooden stairs by kicking his
shoes as hard as he could against each step. The stairs,
skirting board, wardrobe and chest of drawers all bore
witness to Cyril’s moods as they had more scratches
than wood.
35. 35
Chapter 4
Filled with self-pity, Cyril slunk onto his bed and felt
the tears running down his cheeks. He brushed them
briskly away with the back of his hand and said
between sniffles, “I know I should have come straight
home, but I did fetch the onion - even though Mam
didn’t really need it. I also said sorry - not once, but
twice. I wonder if Mam has said anything to our George
about Aunty Gladys … if so that’s another telling off
I’ve got to look forward to.
“George has changed since Dad left,” he moaned as
he slowly climbed off the bed and made his way to the
bedroom window. “We used to spend hours in the yard
or over the fields, laughing … me, Dad and George, but
that’s all stopped. Mam says George gets really tired
now as he has to get up early to help with the animals
on the farm. She even reckons it’s thanks to the farmer
that George can bring in the bread, but I know for a fact
we get our bread from Mr and Mrs Williams’ corner
shop - as I have to fetch it every day.
“If only me Dad were able to come home, George,
wouldn’t have to be so tired from working long hours
… and we could have fun again,” he added as new tears
threatened to spill down his cheeks.
Unbeknownst to Cyril, George had been standing at
their bedroom door, listening.
“Nobody wants change, our kid, but we have to
make the best of what we've got,” George said as he
joined Cyril by the window.
36. 36
He gently squeezed Cyril’s shoulder and continued,
“Remember when we used to walk for miles over the
fields. We would play by the brook and go as far as the
entrance to the coalmines or walk across the fields in
the opposite direction towards the cottage hospital.
That’s how far I biked today looking for ya. I was real
worried, our kid. I thought something bad had happened
to ya … that’s why I got so mad.”
Cyril slipped his hand into George’s and said, “I am
sorry, honest … but I don’t know what to do to make
things right with Mam.”
“Ya know I was thinking Cyril. Mam used to love it
when we picked a few flowers for her while we were
over the fields. Her favourite is honesty because she
loves the delicate shades of pinks and purples. I
remember she always managed to find a spare jam jar
to put them in. We can pick a few at the weekend, if ya
want?”
“Yeah, it will be just like old times … only without
Dad.”
“Ya know what Dad would do if he was here? He
would take the empty potato bag and get some coal
from the slag heap at the same time. What’s say we do
the same?”
Cyril simply nodded; there were no need for words.
“There’s a piece of pie on the dressing table for ya
by the candle, our kid. Ya can eat it while I put the
blackout curtain up, then I can take the plate back down
with me.”
37. 37
In between bites of the pie, Cyril asked, “Do ya
remember when we used to play ball with Dad in our
backyard?”
“Of course. You would nip to the lavatory at half-
time without fail. You took so long making airplanes
out of the squares of newspaper meant for cleaning
ourselves that Dad had time to hide the ball and have a
quick nap.”
“Really? I thought he was only pretending to be
asleep on the wooden lid of the coal bunker. That’s why
I used to wake him up by throwing the paper planes at
him, shouting he was under attack. You used to join in
the fun back then … so what changed? You get grumpy
and yell at me now if I make even one plane.”
“Simply because we don’t have the money to throw
‘round, our kid … now that Dad's ….”
“Do ya think Dad would have been safer working the
mines?”
“It’s hard to tell, our kid. Bad things have also
happened down them mines -”
“George – Cyril - we need to get to the air-raid
shelter,” Mam shouted.
Cyril and George grabbed the coats off their beds
and ran down the stairs.
“What’s happened, Mam?” George started to ask
even before his feet had touched the kitchen floor.
38. 38
“I was listening to the radio when a news flash came
on. Fighter planes are heading our way, and they are
dropping bombs randomly.”
“So, them people I saw earlier today may have come
all this way for nothing?” Cyril questioned.
George and his mother exchanged glances.
“Ya can get that crazy idea out of your head, our
Cyril. Many of them had nothing to stay for even if they
had wanted to. Everything, and I mean everything, went
up in smoke when their homes were bombed. They only
have the clothes they came in,” Mam said as she
grabbed the remainder of the pie and a knife from the
table.
“Is that why only a few of them had parcels or cases
with them?”
“Yeah, the lucky ones – which they refer to
themselves as - could bring one change of clothes …
nothing more," said George, taking charge of the
situation. "Now stop wittering, our kid – time is
running out. In fact, what little time we have left could
be put to better use by you fetching the spare candles.
They're in a paper bag in the cupboard under the stairs.
Then ya can carry on to the shelter with Mam. I'll bring
the radio and the coats.”
“Thanks, George … I’ll leave you to blow out the
candles on your way out? I've already done the ones in
the front room,” Mam said.
Their trek across the yard was made easier by the
39. 39
moonlight, but as soon as they walked through the
wooden door of the shelter everything went pitch black.
Their mother felt for the wooden seating that was
affixed to the brick wall and carefully placed the pie
down.
“Pass the candles here, Cyril. It will feel better once
we’ve got light” she said.
Cyril obeyed and passed her a handful of candles.
“Where’s the bag?” she asked, taking them from
him.
“In the cupboard, but I brought all the candles –
honest.”
“Well they’re no use to us without any matches -”
“Everything all right, Mam?” George asked as he
joined them in the shelter.
“We have no matches to light the candles with as
they were in the bottom of the paper bag … and guess
who decided to take the candles out - and leave the bag
behind?”
They were interrupted by the soft aroma of tobacco
filling the air.
“Need a match, Rachel? Here ya are … allow me,”
said their neighbour, Reuben Senior.
They hadn't heard the Coopers - Aunty Gladys,
40. 40
Uncle Reuben, their son Reuben Junior and the elderly
lady they had re-housed - enter the shelter from their
side of the yard.
In the candlelight, Cyril could make out Uncle
Reuben, puffing on his pipe. Next to him was a pile of
blankets that Cyril reasoned his uncle must have
dropped when he went to his mum’s aid.
“That pie looks nice enough to eat, Rachel. Young
Reuben has filled some pop bottles with water, in case
we get thirsty. They'll go down a treat together,” said
Reuben Senior with a wink.
Cyril looked across at Reuben junior and saw him
place four large glass bottles on the ground. He was
thankful that the mood had started to lighten and was
even more delighted when there was a yapping sound
followed by a lot of scuffling.
“Cyril, pick up Scamp for me before she gets her fur
singed by the candles. The daft dog must have seen ya
sitting there because she suddenly jumped out of me
arms. Either that or she smelled yer Mam’s pie,” Aunty
Gladys said.
“Now ya can see why I drew a line at the dog and
wouldn’t let ya bring them hens or the budgie. If the
animals weren’t slowly baked they could have knocked
the candles over which in turn would have meant us
having to waste our water supply to douse the flames,”
Uncle Reuben stressed.
“Hi Gladys - how are ya? Would ya like a piece of
pie? Would you also like a piece, love?” Rachel asked
41. 41
the two women.
“Oh, Rachel this is Doris Tanner. Doris this is your
new neighbour, Rachel. She is a very good friend of
mine.”
Rachel shook Doris’s hand and welcomed her to the
village and then instructed Cyril to say hello. He was
also to refer to Doris as ‘Aunty’ out of respect.
Doris offered to help Rachel hand out the pie, whilst
Gladys took the opportunity to talk to Cyril.
“I was cutting some squares of paper for the lav
when the announcement came on the radio. So I
brought the crossword for me and yer Mam and a
couple of extra squares for you to make some planes.
Don’t throw them ‘round in here though - or I’ll be in
trouble.”
As his Aunty Gladys handed him the newspaper she
gave him a knowing wink.
Simultaneously, Reuben junior leaned over, nudged
Cyril and whispered loudly into his ear, “Mam can’t
really do the crosswords. She uses them to take her
mind off them spiders crawling ‘round the brickwork.
Me mam says if she were to bottle them creepy crawlies
and sell them as a cure for constipation, we would be
worth a bob or two.”
The two young men giggled wholeheartedly and had
to dig their heels hard into the soil to stop from slipping
off the bench.
42. 42
“Don’t ya be leading young Cyril into bad ways,
now. I am sure he can get into enough trouble on his
own,” Aunty Gladys lightly scolded.
“George, switch the radio on low. We need to know
when it’s safe to return to our homes,” Rachel said.
While the men strained to listen to the radio, Cyril
strained to listen to his Mam and Aunty Gladys asking
Doris questions about the newcomers and discussing
ways in which they could help the schoolteacher, Edith
Brown.
As the time dragged by, Cyril nestled his face in
Scamp’s fur, and his thoughts started to drift. He
dreamed he was walking across a battlefield amidst
gunshot when he discovered his Dad lying in one of the
trenches. Instinctively, he leaned over and lay the warm
furry bundle he had been holding next to his Dad. He
then felt himself being lifted to safety as the soothing
voices of his saviours, George and Reuben junior,
comforted him. After what seemed an age, he felt
himself being placed down on marshy ground. His
guardian angel, Mam, gently stroked his cheek and
instructed his saviours to put a coat over him and leave
him there overnight.
