Escape from the Blitz Read online

  I Was There...

  ESCAPE FROM THE BLITZ

  Contents

  Cover

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I don’t care what you say, I’m not going,” I muttered.

  Mum and Dad glanced at each other and sighed. The three of us were sitting round the table in our little kitchen – Dad in his shirtsleeves and braces, Mum in her pinny. They’d been on at me all through tea, and I was determined not to give in.

  “Don’t be like that, Betty,” said Dad. “We’re only thinking of you.”

  “You have to go,” said Mum. “War might break out any day now.”

  It was the 30th of August 1939, and most grown-ups were convinced Germany was about to start a war. I wasn’t so sure. Mind you, I wouldn’t have been surprised if that horrible Mr Hitler did something nasty. He was the leader of the Germans. I’d seen him on the newsreels at the pictures and he usually looked dead cross. He seemed to want to take over every country in the world. First it was Austria, then somewhere called Czechoslovakia, and now for some reason he was angry with Poland.

  To be honest, I hadn’t been very interested in things like that before. I mean, the news on the wireless and in the paper Mum and Dad read was always bad. But I was paying attention now. It wasn’t just ‘the news’ any more. This was about me.

  “I still don’t understand why that means I have to be sent away,” I said. I tried to make it sound as dramatic and terrible as possible. Well, that’s how I felt!

  “Oh Betty, it’s not like that, I promise you,” said Mum, giving me a sad smile. She’s small, almost tiny – petite is the word she uses – and she has a pretty face and wavy blonde hair. Dad is tall and gangly and dark, and they’ve always said I’m a mix of both of them – not too tall, not too skinny, and my hair is mousy brown. “Not how you mean, at any rate,” she went on. “This is different. You’re being evacuated.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Dad held his hand up to silence me. “I’ll explain it for you once more, and then I hope you’ll stop being so bloomin’ stubborn.”

  Now it was my turn to sigh. I listened to him, but I’d heard it all before. Apparently as soon as the war started, the sky over London would be full of German planes and they would bomb us to smithereens. That’s what the government said, anyway. So they’d come up with this daft plan to send us kids to the countryside. Oh, sorry, I should have said evacuated. Although I reckoned that was just one of those big fancy words grown-ups use when they want something to sound really important.

  Of course I’d asked loads of questions – like, if it was going to be that bad, why weren’t Mum and Dad being evacuated too, and where would I be staying, and how long would I be away? Of course Mum and Dad had all the answers. They said I’d be taken to a place in Devon with the kids and teachers from my school, and we’d live there with families who had volunteered to put us up till it was safe to come back. Our parents had to stay behind ‘so they could keep everything going’.

  But how exactly would they manage that? Dad was a postman – wouldn’t it be a bit difficult to deliver letters in the middle of an air raid? And what would there be to come back to if the whole of Bermondsey had been blown to pieces?

  It was all pretty terrifying if I really let myself think about it – being sent off to live with strangers, bombs being dropped, not knowing when I’d be coming back, Mum and Dad in danger. So it was easier to tell myself instead that the whole thing was utterly barmy, and everybody was panicking for no reason. But then that’s grown-ups for you, isn’t it?

  Dad had finally stopped droning on. He sat there with Mum, both of them waiting for me to say I was going to be a good little girl and do as I was told, I suppose. I had another question for them, though. The most important question of all.

  “Tell me this then,” I said. “Who’ll take care of Smoky if I’m not here?”

  Smoky is our cat, and Mum and Dad don’t love him like I do. He’s as black as coal, not very big, and quite old – I’m nearly eleven and we’ve had Smoky as long as I can remember. I used to dress him up in baby clothes and wheel him around in a toy pram. Even now I sometimes pop him in a shopping basket so I can take him out with me. He doesn’t complain. Mum and Dad are always moaning about him, though.

  He brings us dead rats as presents, and Mum hates that, and she says I shouldn’t let him sleep on my bed because he’s dirty. She’s wrong, though. He is a bit battered – one of his ears is bent, and he’s lost the end of his tail. He’s a real street cat – he spends most of his time outdoors and isn’t frightened of anything. But he keeps himself clean, and he’s the sweetest pussycat you could hope to meet. Mum didn’t have any more kids after me, but Smoky is nicer than any brother or sister could ever be.

  “Er… we will, of course,” said Dad. He glanced at Mum again, and I have to say they both looked a bit shifty. Almost as if they suddenly felt uncomfortable.

  “I bet you won’t,” I said. “I’m usually the one who remembers to feed him and fill his water bowl. If it wasn’t for me you’d let him starve or die of thirst.”

  “Oh, Betty, that’s not true,” said Mum. “We wouldn’t let Smoky suffer!”

  She pulled her hanky from the sleeve of her dress and loudly blew her nose. For a second I thought she was about to start crying… Dad obviously thought the same, because he patted Mum’s shoulder the way he does whenever she’s upset. What a state they’d worked themselves into! Suddenly I needed to get out of there.

  “Is it all right if I go round to Mabel’s?” I said. I didn’t wait for an answer.

  I slammed the front door behind me as hard as I could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mabel is my best friend from school. She lives a couple of streets away in a terrace house just like mine. It has a front room for sitting in, a kitchen at the back with a little scullery, a tiny yard with an outside toilet, and a couple of small bedrooms upstairs. That’s fine for Mum and Dad and me, but Mabel and her three younger sisters all have to share a bed. Mabel didn’t seem to mind – I’d hate it.

  I love the evenings in the school summer holidays when it stays light till really late. If the weather is good, the streets round our way can be as crowded and noisy as a school playground – there are kids everywhere. The girls skip and play tag and hopscotch, and the boys play cricket or football. Sometimes us girls join in the boys’ games – we’re much better than them, but the boys won’t ever admit that.

  Mabel’s mum and dad were in the street outside their house when I arrived. Her dad was putting strips of sticky white tape over the windows while her mum looked on, arms folded. Her hair was in curlers and covered with a headscarf.

  “I don’t think that’s right,” she was saying. “Shouldn’t it go on the inside?”

  Mabel’s dad shrugged. He worked at the docks, and was still wearing his working clothes and heavy boots. “Can’t see as it’ll make much difference,” he said. “A silly little bit of tape ain’t gonna be much help when the bombs start going off, is it?”

  We’d had the government leaflet about taping our windows as well. It was supposed to stop the glass breaking into small splinters if a bomb landed outside. My Dad had already taped our windows, and as far as I could see most of the other famili
es in Bermondsey had done the same. But I agreed with Mabel’s dad. Big splinters, small splinters – they’d all be pretty dangerous, wouldn’t they?

  Their front door was wide open. I yelled for Mabel and she came running out. As usual, we headed through the streets towards Southwark Park. Mabel is little and plump, has short, dark hair, and talks nineteen to the dozen. I don’t mind that – I’m a talker myself – but tonight I didn’t let her get started.

  “So what have your mum and dad said about you being evacuated?” I asked.

  Mabel shrugged just like her dad. “They ain’t letting me and my sisters go,” she said. “Mum says she’d rather we was all killed together than be separated.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” I said. Although secretly I was a bit shocked. “It’s a bit on the gloomy side, isn’t it? What did your dad say?”

  “He didn’t like it, and they had a row,” said Mabel. “But Mum said she was only being practical, so he gave in. Mum reckons a lot of people feel the same.”

  Just then we turned a corner and found ourselves walking past a long queue of people: men and women of all ages and a few kids. Each and every one of them had a dog on a leash, or was holding a cat, or had a birdcage with a canary or a budgie in it. There was even an old gentleman with a parrot that kept squawking loudly. The people all looked dead miserable, and some were actually crying.

  “Blimey, why’s the vet so busy today?” I said to Mabel. The queue stretched right along the street and into the vet’s surgery. I’d made Mum and Dad take Smoky there a couple of times when he’d seemed poorly or had been in a fight. Not often, mind, because he really hated it and Dad always grumbled about how much it cost.

  “Didn’t you hear?” said Mabel. “The government says everybody should have their pets put down. It’s a good job we ain’t got any. I wanted a rabbit but Mum…”

  “What, you mean… killed?” I interrupted. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. It seemed like the daftest thing of all. Why would they tell someone to kill their parrot?

  Mabel nodded. “It was in another leaflet…” She rattled on about what the leaflet had said – pets might distract people from the war effort, whatever that was, the food you gave to your pets could be given to farm animals instead, and that was much more important, your pets couldn’t be protected in air raids and might suffer…

  I felt my blood freeze. I remembered the shifty expressions on Mum and Dad’s faces when I’d asked who’d take care of Smoky if I wasn’t around. They must have had the same leaflet as Mabel’s parents – and not told me! “We wouldn’t let Smoky suffer.” So that was why they wanted me out of the way! Now I understood why they’d been uncomfortable – although maybe the right word was guilty.

  They knew I would never agree to it, that I’d fight to keep Smoky from being killed. I was so angry. How could they even think of doing such a thing? Smoky was part of our family! I decided grown-ups weren’t just daft, they were cruel and heartless. That’s probably why they started all their horrible wars in the first place.

  But what if I couldn’t make them listen to me? What if they insisted? It was just too awful! Suddenly I had another thought, and I realized I might have the answer…

  “You all right, Betty?” said Mabel at last. “You’ve gone dead quiet.”

  “What? Sorry, Mabel, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  Smoky would be fine too. I was going to make sure of it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I ran all the way home. I’d realized there was only one thing for it. I knew I wouldn’t get far if I argued with Mum and Dad about Smoky. I’d just have to go along with being evacuated – and secretly take Smoky with me. I didn’t have a clue yet how I was actually going to manage it, but I was sure I could think of a plan.

  Smoky was sitting on our doorstep when I arrived, as if he was waiting for me. I scooped him into my arms for a cuddle and he nuzzled against my cheek.

  “I love you, Smoky,” I whispered into his ear – not the one that was bent, the straight one – and he purred. “I swear I’ll take care of you, whatever happens.”

  I went into the kitchen. Smoky jumped down and made a beeline for his food bowl, which had the scraps from our tea in it. Dad was sitting at the table reading the evening paper and Mum was doing the washing up. They both turned to look at me.

  “All right, I’ll do what you want,” I said. “You can have me evacuated.”

  “Oh, Betty love!” said Mum. She burst into tears and hugged me tight.

  “’Ere, get off!” I said, pushing her away. I’ve never been one for hugging or talking about my feelings. “I thought you’d be pleased!”

  “I am, of course I am!” She pulled out her hanky and dabbed her eyes. “It’s just… it’s just that…” Then she got all choked and waved her hands at Dad.

  “Er… I think your Mum is trying to say we’ll miss you, sweetheart.”

  His eyes were watery too, and for a moment I thought I might start blubbing as well. Me and Mum and Dad have always been close. But then I remembered what they were planning to do to Smoky and I felt cross all over again.

  “This won’t do,” said Mum at last, wiping her eyes with her hanky. “We should make a start on packing your case. There’s a list of the things you’ll need.”

  “Case?” I said, my mind suddenly racing. “I didn’t even know we had one.”

  Apparently Mum and Dad kept it under their bed. Dad fetched it down, and as soon as I saw the case I knew it would be the answer to my prayers. It was old and brown and square and a bit scuffed and dented, but Smoky would fit inside.

  “Mind you, now that I’m looking at it, I wonder if it’s a bit big for you…” said Mum, frowning. “I mean, you’ve got to be able to pick it up, haven’t you?”

  “You’re right,” said Dad. “Maybe we should find her something smaller.”

  “No, it’s perfect!” I said quickly. “Er… can I have a look at that list?”

  “Of course you can,” said Mum. I breathed a sigh of relief as she went off to fetch it from the sideboard in the front room. The list was on the other side of a letter from my school, just like the normal letters we got about the Christmas play or Sports Day. But this one gave all the details for the evacuation – the date, the time we were supposed to meet at school, the station where we’d be catching the train.

  My tummy did a couple of flips as I read it – we would be leaving on Friday the 1st of September. That was two days from now!

  Mum went over the list. It wasn’t long. “Toothbrush and toothpaste, flannel and soap, spare clothes, underwear, socks, your nightdress, a proper coat – yours is too big to go in the case so you’ll have to wear it. A packed lunch for the journey…”

  That night, Mum and Dad left the case on the floor beside my bed. I turned my bedside light off at the usual time, but I didn’t go to sleep, not even when Mum and Dad came upstairs and went to bed themselves. I had a lot to think about. My mind was in a whirl – I was scared about going away and about what was going to happen to me and Mum and Dad, and Smoky, of course. I was determined to save him – but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it might not be easy…

  I wasn’t too worried about getting Smoky into the case. He always did what I wanted him to, and it would be a bit like when I took him shopping. As soon as he turned up on Friday, I’d pop him in the case and shut it. He stayed out at night during the summer, then climbed the drainpipe at the back of the house early in the morning to get into my room. I always left my window open for him.

  No, the problem might be keeping him in the case. The letter from school didn’t say how long it would take to get to Devon, but I had a feeling it was going to be quite a long journey. I made two little holes in the case so Smoky would be able to breathe – I hoped Mum and Dad wouldn’t notice. I was also hoping Smoky wouldn’t need to go to the toilet on the way there. That could be a disaster.

  And what about when we got to
Devon? What would I do with Smoky once we were there? I could feel myself getting more and more worked up. How could I possibly pull off something like this? It was mad even to think about it! But then I calmed down. I realized I had no idea what it would be like in the country, so I decided not to worry about it till I had to.

  I tried again to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. I tossed and turned, and after a while I quietly got out of bed and went over to the window. There’s not much of a view from my room, only our little yard and the backs of the houses in the next street. But there was a full moon, and everything was bathed in a strange silver light.

  Suddenly the world outside looked very strange and scary. I didn’t really want to be evacuated. I wanted to stay at home with Mum and Dad. But then I remembered to be cross with them because of what I knew they were planning to do.

  If I didn’t get Smoky out of London, he was doomed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As usual the next day, Dad left the house to go to work long before I was awake. Mum was up early too so she could make sure the clothes I was taking were washed and dried and ironed, ready to be packed. Not that I’ve got a lot – one dress for school, one to wear outside school, a couple of jumpers, some vests, pants and socks, one nightdress. I’d be wearing my school shoes – I didn’t have any others.

  All that kept Mum busy and out of the way for most of the morning, which was good. It meant I could secretly give Smoky some practice in the case. As I’d guessed, he didn’t need much persuading. He sniffed at it for a while, but then he climbed inside and curled up for a snooze. I gently closed the lid and counted to one hundred… and when I opened it, he was still fast asleep and purring.

  Of course, I soon hit a snag. When Mum packed my case later that evening it was pretty full. I realized I’d have to take stuff out of it to make room for Smoky. Fine, I thought – I could live without most of the vests and pants and socks. But I wouldn’t be able to do it till after Mum and Dad had gone to bed, and then I’d have to find a hiding place for what I took out. I decided I’d stuff it all under my mattress.