My family lived in Hackney Wick, East London. We had a small terraced house with two rooms up and two rooms down – no bathroom or indoor lavatory. In those cramped conditions lived six children and two adults. At that time there was severe hardship and poverty in our area, and most of our neighbours found it very hard to feed and clothe the large families they had. Dad being in regular employment meant we always had good hot dinners, tidy clothes and a clean comfortable home.

My Father, George Charles Lee, was a house decorator and carpenter. He worked long hours and earned a good wage. He was a warm loving man, with a quick violent temper. He was stocky in build, fair-haired and had the most beautiful blue eyes. He was a great help to my Mother in the home, which in those days was very unusual. Although he longed for a son, he took a great pride in how his six daughters looked and behaved. We were never allowed to wait outside public houses if our parents were having a drink inside, even though it was a regular sight to see children of all ages waiting until late at night for their parents to come out. Dad made sure we were home, with my eldest sister looking after us. He made many of our dresses on an old sewing machine, and our shoes were kept in good repair with cheap leather he bought at the local market.

My Mother, Emma Elizabeth Lee, like the majority of women in those days, was a housewife. She was slim in build, and had very good posture which gave the impression of her being tall. She had lovely high cheek bones, complemented by her clear almost porcelain looking skin. I remember whatever tasks she was doing in the home, her appearance was quite fashionable and always very clean. She loved entertaining us on a Sunday afternoon by playing the piano. She had never had a piano lesson but had the gift of playing any of the popular tunes of the day. We all enjoyed this as it was the only day of the week the parlour was unlocked, so it seemed special to us. Though not a woman to show her emotions, being easily embarrassed, she cared dearly for her husband and her family.

With six children and a husband to look after, she worked very hard in the home. Monday being washday was the worst day for her, as you can imagine the amount of washing she had to do. There were no labour-saving machines in those days, and everything had to be washed by hand, rinsed, and then put through the mangle. Once dry, it all had to be ironed with flat irons heated on the fire.

Three years after my birth, my Mother was expecting again, and the baby was due any day. There were no scans in those days to let you know the sex of the baby. This time there would be cause for celebration – at last a long-awaited son is born, named after my Father, George Charles Lee.

Our family now seemed complete. Life was happy for us, apart from the occasional rows between my Mother and Father – these were mainly to do with money, or one of us misbehaving. When this happened we all tried to keep away from our Dad, as he would lash out in temper. I can remember he hit me with a copper stick making red weals on my legs when I misbehaved one day. He was always sorry when his temper had cooled down.

Looking back, our days at that time seemed to be spent in perpetual sunshine. The street was our playground, as apart from the occasional horse and cart, the road was traffic-free and ideal for our games.

All the children joined in, and as most families were large it could be quite a gathering. We had a season for playing whip and top, marbles, kick the can, hopscotch and cigarette cards. I do not recall the rules we had to abide by, but there was many an argument when they were broken. If anyone did not behave themselves, one of the neighbours would soon let our parents know. Then you were in real trouble.

Read more…

Early years

Family tensions

War breaks out

“There’s A war on and we can’t waste food”

Life in Wales

Back to the Blitz

In Wales again

Settling in

Hardship

Emm and Anne visit for Christmas

Dad’s allotment

Taking the cat for a walk

Another visitor

Eating the fruit and losing the potatoes

A rare day at the seaside

The family’s last Christmas together 

“Your Dad passed away today”

Another sister and more freedom

A night on Paddington Station

Visiting friends

Emm’s wedding

Another wedding

“I shall be glad when you go back to your mother”

A short and sad life

Leaving Wales

Back in London

One of the dirtiest friends Mum ever made

Holmleigh Road

“That’s the girl I’m going to marry”

Memories

“Do you want to go over there, or over here?”

“You look nice for a change”

One of the most bizarre days of my life

Anne dies

Brief family history update

However, when I realised my sisters were all in different classrooms my excitement turned to tears. I thought they had abandoned me, and for the first time I was on my own. We had lessons in the morning, followed by games in the afternoon, and we then had to have a rest on very hard camp beds. When my sisters came to collect me I started to cry again, as I had thought I would not see them any more. After the first few days I soon settled into school life.

My week now consisted of school from Monday to Friday. Saturday was a free day for playing with friends. Apart from the time we spent with Mum around the piano, Sunday was a very busy time for the family. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes, we went to church morning and evening, and in the afternoon we went to Sunday school. Then we had to find time to visit our Gran, Dad’s Mother, and other relatives. I think Gran was glad when our visit was over and sometimes she would not even ask us in. I thought Gran was a miserable old lady and I was always glad to go back home. Our house smelt lovely on a Sunday, as Mum would bake jam tarts and what we called rock cakes (they were like little fruit cakes). We had some with our tea, and the rest were stored in a tin for various visitors during the week.

The evenings that stand out in my mind are Friday evenings, which were bath night in our house. With seven children and two adults this took quite a lot of organising. Dad would have to heat all the water over the open fire, then the tin bath was brought in from the back yard and placed in front of the fire.

When there was sufficient hot water Mum would start to wash us and Dad would be ready with a clean towel to dry us. The water was never emptied, just topped up with hot water. Whoever was last ended up with water more dirty then clean. So much for hygiene. Dad would then carry the youngest of us on his shoulders up to bed, while the older girls were allowed to stay up a bit later.

Time went by and there was another addition to the family. My Mother, to the delight of my Father, had another son. They named him Brian Fredrick. However, all was not well with our Mum this time, as the midwife was not too particular as regards cleanliness and Mum picked up an infection. The doctor told Dad that she was seriously ill with septicaemia, and would have to be admitted to hospital. The neighbours rallied round to help Dad, cooking meals and doing the laundry, as he could not afford to stay home and look after us. My elder sisters had to make sure we attended school and looked clean and tidy, and the new baby was cared for by my Mother’s friend.

I suppose Mum was in hospital for a few weeks, but to our family it seemed an age before she came home looking very thin and frail. All of us were delighted to welcome her home, but it was a while before she was her old hard-working self.

It was now 1938, a year before the Second World War. My eldest sister Emma, always known as ‘Emm’, had left school and was working. She seemed very grown-up to me. This left five girls of school age, my sisters Anne, Lillian, Mary, Kathleen and me, and my two brothers at home with Mum. Everything seemed to be going well for our family, but without any warning, disaster struck. Our Dad had a major heart attack while at work. He would never be able to work again. Mum left us at home when she rushed to the hospital, so we knew something serious had happened, as we had never been left on our own before. It was very late when our Mum returned, she looked so worried and we could see that she had been crying. We were told that our Dad was seriously ill, and would be in hospital a long time. It was a very subdued family who went to bed that night.

Dad was in hospital some time before he was strong enough to walk about. As soon as he was able, he would make his way to the hospital balcony which faced the street, and from there he could wave to us. Children were not allowed to visit anybody in hospital at that time so it was the only way we could see our Dad. From the Hackney hospital, Dad was sent to a convalescent home to help his recovery. As the home was some miles from where we lived it was very difficult for Mum to visit. There was no money for bus or train fares.

Then to our great excitement Dad was well enough to come home. We thought everything would be back to normal until Mum said: “Your Father is still very ill, and you are all to be quiet and not to worry Dad with anything.”

Mum was finding life very hard with Dad home all day, and the lack of money made the situation worse. My Father was finding it difficult to adjust to his new life-style. Before, he was such an active man, used to working long hours. Now all he was able to do was listen to the radio as being a poor reader he was unable to pass the time reading.

He began to feel quite useless and irritable, and it was Mum who had to put up with his anger. She was finding that her own life had changed. After being used to having the house to herself during the day, her routine was now based around Dad.

My Mother was a sociable person. Once her housework was finished for the day, she loved to visit friends, or invite them to our house for a good gossip. This routine came to a stop as Dad was not strong enough to be left on his own, and he did not like visitors, particularly my Mum’s friends. For some reason Mum invariably chose dirty people to be friends with and Dad had warned her before about having them in our house. His language could be quite colourful at times, and being a blunt speaking man he would offend Mum’s friends. Soon they had all stopped calling, leaving Mum with no social life. It was not long before my Mum and Dad started to have rows with each other, not because they had lost their love for one another, but because of the situation they found themselves in.

My sister Emm was the cause of more arguments as she had been seen out with a boy and one of the neighbours had informed my parents. Dad was very angry with her. I think part of his anger was because she was his favourite daughter and had not confided in him. Emm was told she was not to see the boy anymore, as she was far too young to have boyfriends at sixteen. My sister refused to speak to Dad, which made him even more miserable. So at that time our home was not a very happy place.

I heard the name ‘Hitler’ and talk of their fear of invasions and bombings, which at the time meant nothing to me. People seemed at a loss what to do and reluctant to go back to their homes. It was only when it started to get dark that the street began to empty.

Apart from everybody having to black out all their windows, and no street lights, the early days of the war did not affect our lives. The air-raid sirens went off a few times, but were false alarms. However, we were soon to learn the grim reality of war.

The first time I heard my parents discussing evacuation, they were having some sort of disagreement about who should be evacuated. Dad wanted to keep my brother George at home, but Mum thought he would be safer with us four girls. This would leave my two eldest sisters at home as they were working, and my baby brother, Brian. In the end they decided it would be just my sisters Lily, Mary, Kath and me. I had no idea what my parents were talking about, and soon the conversation faded from my mind.

How long after this we were evacuated, I do not know. All I can remember is that one day Mum said: “You will have to leave home for a while, as it is not safe to stay in London.” Mum explained that we would be living in the country, and that some kind people would be looking after us. I still did not worry about it as I thought my parents would be with us. I had no idea that my three sisters and I would be on our own.

One morning, just before we were going to school, Mum gave each of us a carrier bag. Looking inside, I was quite surprised to see my clothes folded neatly at the bottom, and my Sunday-best dress packed on top. Mum then said: “I want you all to be on your best behaviour, as today you will go to school first, and from there you will be evacuated.”

When we arrived at our school the whole place was in chaos. Parents and pupils had no idea what was happening. At last the headmaster appeared. He told all the children to line up in the hall, and asked the parents to wait outside. Our teachers then pinned a label on our clothes with our name on it.

Next, we were all handed a brown paper bag. When I looked inside I was amazed to see biscuits, chocolate, fruit and even tins of food. We were told the food was for our journey, but how we were supposed to open the tins I have no idea, as we did not have a tin-opener. We then had to file out into the playground. Our Mum was waiting there with the other parents, Mum looked very upset and worried. I remember she said to my sister Lil: “Now make sure that you look after them, and that you are all kept together.”

Then we had to board a bus which was waiting outside the school. I thought Mum was waiting for our Dad to arrive, but when I saw tears in my Mum’s eyes and my sisters crying, I realised that my parents were not going with us. I started to cry when the coach pulled away, leaving my Mum waving to us until we were out of sight.

Looking back, I am truly thankful that we had Lil, who was such a caring and loving sister. At the time she was only eleven but she was like a second Mother to us. How the other children fared on their own I dread to think. There must have been a lot of very frightened children on the coach that day.

After travelling for some time on the coach, we arrived at a strange place called Rugby. The driver pulled up near a big building, and we were told to take all our things with us. Inside was a large hall where we had to line up. We were given a hot drink, and then a lady showed us where the lavatories were, and told us to be quick as the billeting officer was waiting for us. When we returned to the hall, there were a lot of people walking about looking at the children. Then they began to point to individual boys or girls.

My sister Lil asked what was happening, and was told they were choosing who they wanted billeted on them. Lil explained how Mum had said we were to be kept together. At this, the lady replied that nobody would take four children. My sister started protesting and said she would not move from the hall if we were separated. However, some sort of compromise must have been made as we ended up in different houses but in the same street.

I can still remember how very frightened I felt when I was left on my own in a strange house. I started crying for my Mum. I was billeted with an elderly couple who soon put my fears to rest. They treated me like their own daughter and could not have been more kind. They had one daughter who was working in a munitions factory, and it was her bedroom I was to sleep in. I felt quite lonely in the bed on my own, as I was used to sleeping with my sisters. I had never seen a bedroom like it.

There was a lovely pink satin bedspread, a bedside lamp and a wardrobe to hang clothes in. Even after all these years, I can remember a manicure set in a small purse and a set of hairbrushes on the dressing table – luxury indeed. For some reason they called me ‘Snowball’ but I do not recall their name. I was not to have the benefit of their kindness for long. After a week we were moved to Northampton, which was to be a very different experience.

We arrived late at night in Northampton, and the billeting people could only find temporary accommodation for us. The four of us were taken to a large house which looked quite creepy in the dark. My sister told us it was a home for mad people, but in reality it was a home for disturbed children. We were all feeling cold, miserable and very hungry by then, as we had not eaten since breakfast. A member of staff showed us to a room which had two beds and a chair, and told us we could all sleep there, and that we would have breakfast in the morning. Lil said that we had not eaten all day, but the woman replied that there were no kitchen staff on duty that late but said if we wanted a drink there was water in the kitchen. Later, my sister tried to find the kitchen, but the house was all in darkness, so we went to bed very hungry and thirsty.

It was so cold in the room that we undressed as quickly as we could, throwing all our clothes on the chair. It was a long time before I fell asleep, as the house seemed to be filled with strange noises. I could hear moaning and crying, then someone would shout out as though they were in pain, and this was followed by footsteps running about. I awoke with a start to hear my sister Lil shouting: “Who’s that? What do you want?” Someone was in our room, but it was so dark we could not see who. We were all terrified and spent the rest of the night huddled in one bed.

At last it was daylight, but when we looked for our clothes, they had all disappeared. Someone had stolen them. Even worse, our only other change of clothes had been left with the billeting officer. We started to bang on the door for help, but nobody heard us.

Lil would not let us go out of the room in our nightclothes, so we had to miss out on breakfast. It was only when one of the children was noticed wearing odd size clothes, and then more clothes were found in one of the bedrooms, that the staff realized they were our clothes, and returned them to us.

We gathered our belongings together, and followed the lady to her house. As we walked along she told us that her husband was away in the army, and that she had two children, a girl called Rose who was seven, and a boy named Peter who was twelve. She said we were to call her ‘Aunt’. Aunt was a short thin lady, with black hair which was always pulled back in a bun. All the time we stayed with her I never saw her smile or heard her laugh. When she was angry her face would go bright red. The boy, although only twelve, was taller than his Mother. He had quite a nice face, which is more than I can say about his behaviour. He was a crafty, spiteful boy always telling tales about us. Rose looked like her Mum. She was plain and short with the same dark hair. She never had much to say for herself, and certainly did not want to make friends with me. The house was quite a nice house, with three bedrooms upstairs, and what was then called a parlour, a small living room and kitchen downstairs, with the usual outside lavatory. There were two beds in the main bedroom, my three sisters shared one, with Aunt sleeping in the other one. The boy had the next biggest room, and I had to share the small bedroom with Rose.

We sat down to our first meal which was some sort of stew. At home we had to ‘Thank the Lord’ for our food before we started eating, but Aunt said: “We do not thank the Lord here, but you can thank me instead.” We all thought this was very wicked. I was a slow eater as a child, but she thought I did not like the food and told me to leave the table.

Lil told her we had not eaten all day, and she then told Lil to leave the table for being cheeky. My sisters, Mary and Kath, who even when we were home were always in trouble for giggling at the table, started to giggle when we left the table and they were told to go up to their bedroom. The four of us ended the day with nothing to eat or drink.

I was told to wash and go to bed. I did not like sleeping with a strange girl as I was used to sleeping with my sisters. I lay awake for a long time, hoping she would speak to me, but she never said a word. In the morning when I woke up, one side of my nightdress was wet and when I put my hand where the girl had slept that was wet as well. I did not know what to do. I knew I had not wet the bed but would the lady believe me? I dressed and went downstairs, and sat down at the table. My sisters were still upstairs so I could not tell them about the wet bed, but I dare not go to their bedroom. Aunt came in from the kitchen with a slice of toast, which she placed in front of me, saying: “I don’t have children staying with me who wet their bed.” At this I started to cry as I knew Rose was the culprit. When Lil came downstairs she asked me why I was crying, and when I told her what had happened she started shouting at Aunt that she was going to tell the billeting lady how we were being treated. Then she said Rose was lying and that Aunt knew who was responsible. I thought I would be sent away, but we did not hear anymore about the incident. That night I was allowed to sleep with my sisters, two at the top of the bed and two at the bottom.

The next day when I went down for breakfast, I had the same slice of toast that I had started to eat the previous day. When Lil said I was not going to eat it, Aunt said: “There’s a war on and we can’t waste food. She will not get anything else until she eats that.” She even begrudged us having a glass of water, making out it was rationed. I ate the toast as I thought I would not get anything else to eat.

Later in the day Aunt said she was going to sort out what school we would have to attend, and while she was doing that Peter would be responsible for us. It was a bitterly cold day, and the clothes we had were not suitable for being out of doors too long. Nevertheless, Aunt told us to play outside.

As soon as she was gone we tried to go inside, but the horrible boy had locked the door. It was hours before Aunt returned, but even then she would not let us in until teatime. Altogether we had a miserable time while we were staying there. We spent hours out in the cold, and we were always hungry. At school it was no better. The other children would taunt us calling us ‘dirty evacuees’. Lil would end up hitting them which made matters worse. We were then kept in after school had ended, making us late home. Aunt would then make us go without our meal as punishment.

The winter turned to spring, then summer and we were still in Northampton. It seemed such a long time since we had seen Mum and Dad. Now I realise there was no money to spare for them to visit us.

Llanharan was a typical mining village. Everything revolved around the pit, which was situated in the heart of the village. Towering over the village were the slag-heaps, made up of the accumulation of waste from the mine which had built up over many years.

On a windy day you could see and taste the dust in the air from these tips. It was in the mine that the majority of the men earned their living, and what a hard and dangerous job it was. At that time the pits had not been modernized and all the coal was excavated by hand. I can remember my amazement the first time I saw a stream of ‘black’ men emerging from the pit. There was not the luxury of pit-head baths then. When an accident happened at the pit, the siren would go off, then everybody would run to the mine fearing that their loved one was involved.

At the top of the village was quite a big square. On one side there was a row of shops which included a greengrocer, grocery store, chemist, butcher and a hardware shop. As the war progressed, stock became very limited as nearly everything was rationed. It was particularly difficult for the hardware shop to get any stock, because the goods they sold (unlike food and medicines) were not considered a priority. Opposite was a public house, which spread almost over the whole side of the square. A small lane led to the village church. The local bus would stop in the square, though it was not a very frequent service.

The men of the village would sing in the square after they had been to chapel on a Sunday, then people would stand around talking. There was no chance of having a social drink as drinking was banned on a Sunday.

Just opposite the railway station there was a small hotel and also a fish and chip shop. Further along the road was the school, a long low building consisting of four classrooms, a hall, the teachers’ rest room and the headmaster’s room. Outside were two playgrounds, one for the boys and one for the girls. Under no circumstances were we allowed to mix. The lavatories were also outside, two in each playground. The local cemetery was situated at the top of a hill overlooking open countryside and the village. It was only a small field with trees growing at the edge, about half-filled with gravestones. But this same small field would come to mean a lot to my family, for our dear Dad and my sister Anne’s four month old baby Keith, would one day be buried there.

Our new billets were near the mine. I was with my sister Lil, and Mary and Kath were in a house a few doors away from us. The house Lil and I were in was small, just two bedrooms upstairs, two rooms downstairs, a scullery and outside lavatory. Lil said it smelt and the whole place needed a good clean. Mrs Davies, the lady who we would be living with, evidently did not like housework. She spent the best part of the day sitting in front of the fire reading love stories with her skirt above her knees. Over the years her legs had turned a mottled, mauve colour with the heat of the fire. She was quite well-built, with a round face and dark curly hair, and when she spoke it was with a strong lilting Welsh accent. Although she often spoke of her family, I never saw them as they were in the forces or working in the factories. We were treated kindly by her but ,nevertheless, Lil would often complain that our bed needed clean bedclothes, and that we needed a bath, as it was difficult to keep clean with just a jug and basin and a kettle of warm water from the kitchen. But nothing ever improved.

Mr Davies was exempt from the forces as he worked down the mine. Coal was vital to industry and the home, as most people cooked and kept their house warm by coal. He was a quiet man, working long hours down the mine and spending most of his free time singing with the local choir. I will never forget my surprise the first time he arrived home from the pit covered in coal-dust, and proceeded to take off all his clothes and bath in a tin bath in front of the fire. Evidently this was normal in mining villages. Whoever was in the house, visitors or family, the bath would be brought in from the yard and hot water poured in. Mrs Davies would scrub his back while we sat there. At first Lil and I would stare in amazement with our mouths wide open. At home our Dad would never take any clothes off in front of us. He even kept his cap on if he was sitting up in bed. But we soon became used to the nightly routine.

The first day at the village school dawned. I was worried at the thought of starting another school, especially after my experience at the previous one. Lil and I met our sisters Mary and Kath, and made our way to the school. When we arrived we were told to wait inside the assembly hall with the other children. Mr Williams, who was the headmaster, then called all the evacuees to the front of the hall. There was quite a crowd of us, altogether there were about twenty five children. He first made a speech, explaining to the rest of the school how we had left our homes, parents and friends to be away from the dangers of wartime London. Mr Williams then asked us to tell everybody our names and said he hoped we would be happy while we were at his school.

All the teachers were strict and expected the pupils to be well-behaved and quiet. Each morning and afternoon the teachers would take it in turn to call the names of the pupils and mark them off in a register. When you heard your name you had to answer ‘Yes Sir’ or ‘Yes Miss’. If your voice was not loud enough the teacher would throw the heavy register book at you. Many were the times I looked up to see the book sailing through the air, aimed at someone’s head. I soon learnt to call my name out loud and clear. A cane was kept by the side of the teacher’s desk and used frequently for any misbehaviour.

My first teacher was called Miss Davies, no relation to the lady we were living with. She was quite small in build, but what she lacked in height she made up for with her voice; it was so loud it hurt your ears.

What everyone in class feared was when she left her desk and walked up and down the rows of desks. In her hand she held a long ruler which she would rap across your knuckles if she thought you were wasting time. However, I do remember the encouragement and praise we received if she thought any of our work was good. She had a system of different coloured stars, gold being the highest. I remember feeling very envious when the girl sitting next to me was awarded a gold star for her work. The highest I achieved was a silver star.

My sisters and I soon settled into our new school. The children were more friendly towards us and there was no bullying. I made two close friends, Margaret Rose and Gwyneth. They invited me home for tea and shared their precious sweets with me. This was a big treat for me as Mrs Davies kept our ration book and we never received our sweet ration. I believe she gave them to her own family. Sadly, over the years I lost touch with my two friends, which is something I regret.

We had been attending the school for a while when the school nurse paid a visit. She listened to your chest, then asked a few questions about your health. On the table in front of her was a small bowl filled with disinfectant. The nurse dipped a metal comb into the bowl, then combed it through your hair. After she had combed my hair she said I had nits and would have to go to the clinic for treatment. When my sister Lil was told that she had nits as well she became quite angry, saying we had picked them up in the school. On our first visit to the clinic the nurse washed our hair in soft soap and borax, then rubbed in some horrible smelling solution. After this had soaked in, the nurse would keep combing through your hair with a metal comb. My head felt quite sore by the time the treatment was finished, It was not very satisfactory as the nits kept returning. I was nearly seven then, too young to worry about having to go to the clinic, but my sister Lil, who was twelve, found it very embarrassing.

We had been staying with Mrs Davies for some time when our Mum paid us a surprise visit. Lil told Mum about us having to go to the clinic because we had nits. Then I showed her the red bites on my body, which were caused by the bed bugs.

I could see that Mum was getting angry, and when we said we were always hungry and wanted to go home with her she went very quiet. Mum went into the kitchen to see Mrs Davies and we could hear raised voices. When she came back her face was red and angry. “Right,” she said, “Go and get your sisters, you’re all coming home with me.”

I was full of excitement at the thought of going home. While Lil went to fetch Mary and Kath, I helped Mum pack our few belongings. When my sisters arrived we gathered our things together and left the house, leaving a shocked Mrs Davies standing on the doorstep. As we made our way to the railway station I looked back at the village, thinking it would be the last time I would see it.

Many of the shops had lost their doors and windows, leaving the stock open to the street. With everything in short supply, it must have been a temptation for the public to help themselves. There was glass and rubble everywhere, all mixed up with personal belongings. Buildings were left just blackened shells, all that remained after fires had swept through them. There was a smell of burning, and smoke and dust seemed to hang in the air. Mum told us that a lot of people had been injured or lost their lives, and many of them had been made homeless. With all the changes in my own life I had not thought much about the war. Now, as the bus made its way through the London streets, the reality of what war meant to people began to sink in.

At last we arrived in Hackney Wick, but as we approached our house, Dad came rushing out. I thought he would be pleased to see us but when I saw his face I could see he was very angry. He shouted at my Mum: ”What do you think you’re bloody doing? They can’t stay in London, it’s too dangerous for them. You can take them back to Wales right now.” My Mum started crying. What with the long journey and nothing to eat or drink we were all tired out, and seeing her so upset started us all crying. Dad had hardly finished shouting when the sirens sounded. We would not be returning to Wales that night or in the following days.

Our first night in London was spent in the Anderson shelter our Dad had erected in the back yard. It was made of corrugated metal and the base was sunk into the earth.

As you entered there were a few steps down, which in the dark was quite dangerous. Dad had made a bunk bed either side for Mum and my two young brothers, George and Brian, which was sufficient room for them, but with us four as well it became very crowded. Mum had put in candles, a box of matches and some water. I thought it was all very exciting until the air raid actually started when I became very frightened and sat close to my sister Lil. The noise was the worst. First there was the drone of the German planes as they flew over London, then the dreadful whine as the bombs rained down and exploded. The impact of the bombs striking the ground seemed to lift our small shelter from the ground, making everything rattle and shake. Throughout all this our Dad would stand outside the shelter watching, while my Mother begged him to come inside. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the all-clear sounded.

When we emerged from the shelter and ventured into the street, we all stared in disbelief at the devastation everywhere. Some of the houses were just piles of rubble. The street next to ours had taken the worst of the bombing, a whole row of houses was flattened. Our house was one of the lucky ones and was still standing, the only damage being some broken windows. Mum went indoors to make tea for our neighbours, who had lost everything in the raid. However, when Mum turned the tap on there was no water as the water supply had been damaged. It was some time before the Water Board supplied us with fresh water from a large container. They had to leave the container a few streets away from our homes, as it was impossible for any vehicle to get through the bombed streets. People were so pleased to have water, that no-one minded having to carry it home. Mum said: ”At last we can all have a nice cup of tea.”

When there appeared to be a lull in the air raids, Dad decided that it was time for the four of us to return to Wales. Although I was sad to leave my Dad and young brothers so soon, I was pleased to leave London and the raids behind. Mum packed our few belongings and once again we set off for Paddington Station. The railway station was packed with members of the armed forces, and our family seemed to be the only civilians travelling. We managed to get on a train, but once again it was standing room only.

At first, no-one wanted to help us find billets, and Mum started to get worried as she dare not take us back to London. Apart from the danger, she would have to face the anger of our Dad. After speaking to the billeting officer again, and explaining how bad the raids were in London, he said he would try and sort something out for us. He told us to wait in the village hall until he came back. On his return, he said to Mum that Mrs Davies was willing to have Lil and me back, providing there were no more complaints. My sisters, Mary and Kath were found new lodgings. Mum had to accept these arrangements as there was no alternative. Lil said: ”Mrs Davies is only taking us back for the money.” Mum was very cross with Lil and said: ”Just be quiet will you, I have enough to put up with without you making matters worse.” So it was all settled, and Mum returned to London.

Once again Lil and I had to make the best of living with Mrs Davies. The house was just as dirty and the food was still very poor, but to her credit she never mentioned how we had previously walked out. Everything in the village was so peaceful and normal after being in London, and we soon fell into the old routine at school. My friends found it hard to believe me when I told them about the air-raids, and how we had to spend the nights down the air-raid shelter. As the weeks passed by the raids in London faded from my memory, and the war seemed a long way away.

We had been back in Llanharan for some months, when one day our Dad met us from school. It was lovely to see him. We were all very surprised when he told us that he had come to Llanharan to find somewhere for the whole family to live together.

Dad explained that the raids were getting worse in London, and Hackney, being near the docks, was particularly vulnerable. Because of his bad health, Dad could not be drafted into the forces.

He had volunteered to be an air-raid warden but was not accepted, so there was no point in staying in London. He was worried about the safety of Mum and our two brothers, and had decided that we might as well all be together, if possible.

After making some enquiries in the village about housing, Dad was advised to go to Cowbridge which was about thirty five miles away, where the council offices were. It was late in the day by now, so Dad said he would find somewhere to sleep for the night, and catch the early bus in the morning, which he did. We expected him to be back by the time we came out of school, but there was no sign of him. Lil said that she was worried about him being away so long, but there was no way of getting in touch with Dad, we could only wait for his return.

When he finally arrived back, we were all shocked to see that his left arm was in plaster. Although he looked quite ill and tired out, nevertheless, he appeared very pleased with himself. Lil made him a hot drink and something to eat, and the four of us gathered around Dad to hear what had happened in Cowbridge. On arriving in Cowbridge he had made his way to the council offices. Once there, he was directed to the housing department which was very busy and Dad had to wait a long time to be interviewed. The clerk listened to his request for housing, but explained that there was no accommodation available for a family. At this, our Dad replied that he was not leaving, and would sit there all day until they found somewhere for his family to live.

Then, according to Dad, the clerk left the office and returned with another man. They then proceeded to manhandle him out of the room. The housing department was situated on the first floor and reached by a steep flight of stairs and somehow, Dad had fallen down the stairs and ended up in hospital with a broken arm. Dad accused the two men of pushing him down the stairs. Knowing what a temper our Dad had, we thought it more likely that he had lashed out at the men, and lost his balance. Nevertheless, by the time he returned from the hospital, we had been allocated a farmhouse to live in. They obviously did not want our Dad to cause any more trouble. No wonder he looked pleased with himself.

The next day Dad went to pick up the keys so we could view the house. The farmhouse belonged to Lady Blandy-Jenkins, who lived in a large manor house half a mile from the village. She had been persuaded to let us live there for the duration of the war. We went with Dad as far as the big iron gates, then he told us to wait there while he went to the house. The manor house was at the end of a long drive, and from where we stood we could just see the lovely gardens and fountain. Dad disappeared from our view for sometime, and when he appeared again he was holding a bunch of keys. Dad said the house was another half a mile along the same road, so off we set, eager to see our new home.

Dad fitted the key into the front door, which opened on to a lovely, wood-panelled hall. This led to a large, square front room with a black fire place, and one window facing the front garden. The door led into a long kitchen with a large walk-in pantry at one end. The stairs leading to the bedrooms were situated at the other end of the kitchen, making the room narrow at that end. There was a cooking range which had a small oven, a hotplate on top and an open fire. At the side, underneath the stairs, was a coal cupboard, and resting against this was a settle (a wooden seat with a high back, common in Wales at that time) that the previous tenants must have left.

The window was placed quite high, and being small made the kitchen seem a bit gloomy. The floor had stone slabs that made them very cold to walk on, as we never had the luxury of wearing slippers. Upstairs there were three bedrooms. At the front of the house were the main bedroom which had a fireplace and a nice big window, and a small box room. The back bedroom was the same shape as the kitchen, long and narrow.

Outside, were a backyard and a scullery. The scullery had a large copper that had to be filled with water carried from the stream, and was heated from an open fire underneath the copper. Mum would use this for the weekly wash, and to heat the water for our baths. There was also a brick oven. This was heated by branches gathered from the wood, placed in the oven, and then burnt until the oven was white hot. Dad would then bake bread in it. To this day the smell of baking bread reminds me of our dear Dad.

At the side of the house was a small barn, and next to that a lavatory. This had to be flushed using a bucket of water from the stream. There was no running water anywhere in the house, and the only form of lighting was one oil lamp in the kitchen. As we never had any money for oil we always used candles.

We all liked the house, but it was the surroundings we fell in love with. Coming from London, we had never seen anything like it before. The front garden was full of different flowers, fruit bushes and fruit trees. It was a long time before I knew the names of them. Beyond the garden wall was the field we had walked up, and sometimes there were cows, or sheep grazing on it. At the back of the house there was a cultivated piece of ground that my Dad would, in time, use as an allotment. There was also a large disused dog kennel, I don’t know why but I found this building creepy, and I never went near it on my own. A path led to a small clear stream that was our only source of water, and from here it had to be carried to the house. The rest of the area was woodlands, which to my eyes seemed to go on and on. As the seasons changed we would see bluebells, hazelnuts, chestnuts and wild strawberries all growing in the woods.

As we walked about outside, the lady who lived next door came out and introduced herself. She said her name was Mrs Williams and that her husband worked for Lady Blandy-Jenkins. She asked Dad if we were the new tenants. Dad said we were and that we would be moving in soon. She replied that it would be nice to have neighbours again, as it would be company for her and her children. She had two children, a boy named Alwyn who was about 12 years old, and a girl called Anne who was six – my age. After saying our goodbyes to Mrs Williams we returned to the village. Dad had to go back to London to let Mum know about our new home, and to make the arrangements for moving to Wales.

A few weeks later Mum and Dad met us from school, with our two brothers. Mum told us to go and collect our belongings as we would not be going back to our billets any more. Mary and Kath ran to fetch their things, while Lil and I went to fetch our belongings and explain to Mrs Davies that we were leaving. Although Mrs Davies was quite surprised and looked a bit annoyed, she soon went back to reading her love stories, and left us to collect our things. The four of us were very excited and happy at the thought of our family being together, and not having to stay in any more strange houses.

Mum and Dad were waiting for us in the village square. Mum told us to put all our things in the pram, then she sat our young brother on top and we set off to walk to our new home. It was about one mile from the village, and on the way Dad stopped to show Mum the manor house where Lady Blandy-Jenkins lived. As we were walking along, Mum told us that she was sad to leave her neighbours and friends in Hackney Wick. However, she realised it would be safer for the family to leave London, and that she was happy for the family to be together again.

It was late afternoon by the time we arrived at the farmhouse. The removal men had left earlier in the afternoon. Mum and Dad had made the beds up, and sorted out the crockery and utensils ready to make a meal.

While Mum was preparing the food, we had to go and get the water needed for the tea and cooking. At first it was difficult to collect any water from the stream as it was so shallow. Dad then made a gully out of an old pipe he had found in the barn, which made it easier for the water to run into our pots. It seemed very hard work carrying the water from the stream to the house and by the time we handed Mum the pots there was only about half left. Dad had lit the fire some time ago to heat the hotplate for the kettle, but it seemed to take ages before the kettle boiled. At last we all sat down for the first meal in our new home.

Mum had put us four girls in the back bedroom. There were two double beds, a chest of drawers and a chair. My two brothers, George and Brian, shared the small bedroom, and my parents had the large front room. Downstairs in the front room, Mum had arranged the best furniture which had been in our parlour in Hackney Wick. Taking pride of place was Mum’s beloved piano. In the kitchen were a large table and six chairs.

Mum said she felt quite posh living in a farmhouse, but it must have been hard work for Mum and Dad bringing up a family in a house with no material comforts.

A lot of the worry my parents had to contend with at that time was to do with the village school. The school brought in a new dress code, making it a rule that all the pupils had to wear school uniform. There was no way my parents could afford four sets of school uniforms. Then one day I was sent home from school for not having proper shoes on as at the time I only had plimsolls to wear. Dad was furious that I had walked the mile from school on my own. When my sister Lil came home, Dad told her to write a letter to the headmaster to say that the four of us would not be attending school anymore.

Dad knew that the school board man would soon investigate why we were being kept home, and he intended to ask him for a grant towards the clothes we needed.

We had been home a few days, when the school official came to see my parents. He inquired why we were not attending school. Dad explained that he was unable to work because of bad health, and there was no money to spare for uniforms and shoes, which the school now required us to wear. He then asked if the school board could give us a grant to cover the necessary items. This request was promptly turned down. The man then told Dad that he would have to make sure that we were at school the next day, wearing any clothes available. At this, Dad lost his temper and shouted at him: “I am not sending my girls to school looking different from everyone else.’” The man started to look frightened, as my Dad was getting very angry. Dad grabbed hold of the man’s coat and said: “I am going to keep them home until you give me a bloody grant.”

Mum was looking very embarrassed and told us to go outside for a while. We could still hear Dad shouting, then we heard the street door as it slammed shut.

Mum accused Dad of being rude, and then they started arguing. It certainly was not a happy family who went to bed that night.

However, there was a happy ending to all the unpleasantness as Dad later received vouchers for our uniforms and shoes in the post. The first day I put on my new school clothes I felt quite grown up. It comprised a gymslip, a white blouse, navy cardigan and red tie. I also had a pair of black lace-up shoes.

Mum and Dad were very proud of the four of us as we set off for school wearing our school uniforms. As soon as we arrived home from school, the first thing we had to do was change into old clothes. Being the youngest, I used to end up with my sister’s hand-me-downs – and they were already second-hand when they wore them. I used to look like ‘Orphan Annie’.

Money was still a problem for my parents. They could not afford coal for the fire, which was essential as this was the only means of cooking, and heating water. Dad started to chop the branches off the trees in the woods behind us, just enough so that there was a fire for Mum to cook the evening meal, and make a pot of tea. Someone must have informed Lady Blandy-Jenkins that Dad was taking the wood, and we then had a visit from the local police. They warned Dad that he was stealing, and if it happened again he would be prosecuted. Dad then started to go out late at night to collect the wood and told us not to tell anyone. One day, my sister Lil told my parents there was a lot of coal scattered along the railway lines at the bottom of the field. She had seen it when she was collecting watercress which grew in the stream near the line. From then on, our first job when we came home from school was to go and pick up any lumps of coal that had fallen from the trains’ coal tenders. Nobody seemed to worry about the danger to children walking along railway lines. I wonder if the train drivers ever reported us, as we always waved to them. If they did. we never heard about it.

Our one form of entertainment was the wireless. Dad was interested in the news, as he liked to keep up with the latest stories about the war. The rest of the family would listen to any serial, or play that was being broadcast.

The wireless worked from a battery and an accumulator. The battery lasted a long time, but the accumulator had to be taken to the village every week to be recharged. This cost threepence (just over one new penny now), and sometimes there was no money to spare to have it done. Dad would be very miserable then.

As the winter nights drew in, we needed more candles, and although they were cheap to buy we could only afford to have one burning. This meant that from about four in the afternoon we would all be in the kitchen, as that was the only room with a little light and warmth. Mum would be cooking the evening meal and needed the one candle near the fire, which left the rest of the kitchen quite gloomy.

After eating our meal, we had to help with the washing up. As there were eight of us, there would be a huge pile of dishes to clean. It was a time-taking job as there was no sink, so we had to use a small bowl on the table. The water in the bowl had to be changed a few times, and this meant we had to keep heating more water. By the time we had finished nearly all the evening had gone.

Most evenings Dad would play with the boys. They had a few lead soldiers and some paper cut-out ones. They were set out on the table, and they had mock battles with them. Lil was always busy helping Mum with mending and darning clothes. My sisters Mary and Kath made rag mats, and my job was to cut all the rags into strips. The problem was finding material, as our clothes had to last us as long as possible, and the sheets and towels were used until they were threadbare. When the first rag mat was completed we took it in turns to have the new mat by the side of our bed, and it was lovely to step onto a warm rug rather then the cold floor.

My favourite evening was when Dad would get out the ludo board. This had been bought when Dad was in work. We then had turns playing ludo, or snakes and ladders with Dad. We also had two jigsaws, one was a picture of a submarine, and the other one had the portraits of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. We had completed them so many times that we knew where every piece went.

Before going to bed we had to wash and clean our teeth with salt. As we never had toothbrushes we used to rub the salt on our teeth with our fingers.

As the winter set in life became very hard for all of us. The house was always cold, and the clothes we had were not very suitable for a winter in the country. In the summer we had loved the walk to school, but now the mile walk was miserable. Winters in Wales always seemed wetter and colder than London. We often had to sit in wet clothes all day, then had the long walk back home. Dinner time was the worst during the school day. Everyone else lived in the village, so school was closed for the lunch hour. In the playground was a lean-to, so we sat under that to eat our lunch which consisted of bread and cheese, or bread and margarine.

Now and again, if Mum had twopence (just under one new penny now) to spare for the bus fare, Lil would catch the bus home and bring back a cauldron of hot soup Mum had made. How we enjoyed it, even though it was only warm by the time Lil had carried it from the bus stop.

We would have our Friday night bath in the kitchen sometimes, as it was so cold in the scullery. There was many an argument over who was going to get the water from the stream as it was so cold it would freeze your fingers. To settle the arguments, Dad said we should all go together to collect the water, and if we each had a pot, we would only have to make one trip to the stream.