Home › Our Memoirists › Muriel Baldrey (Johnson) › 1939–1943
Last modified: 13 October 2026
Muriel Mary Baldrey (Johnson), 1915–1999
Alice had to go home as Frank had been called up as a Reserve Policeman. Dad sent a telegram to Mum telling her to come back to Oaklands as I was on my own. Somebody gave them a lift in a car, and she and the boys arrived looking wonderfully brown. Dad got some more beds, and it was decided that Mum should stay with me, rather than return to London. However, when Stan came back at the week-end, it was obvious that this wasn’t going to work — he and Mum had a row, I can’t remember what it was about. It was then decided that he would look round for a place in Maidenhead for me and the babes, and that Mum would go back to Dorlcote, and the boys would be evacuated with Battersea Grammar School to Brighton. Den had been in camp with the Territorials, and immediately War was declared he was moved into the permanent Army, but Mum and Dad hadn’t heard from him, and Mum was very worried.
Stan managed to find me a place, and Mum and the boys went back to Dorlcote. We went to a very nice house in Florence Avenue, Maidenhead, as evacuees. This Mr. Archer had to give us a living room and two bedrooms. One big snag was the cooking facilities.He only had a primus stove, a valour stove and a big range with two ovens and a back boiler in his dining room. However, I soon mastered this, and we were very comfortable and warm in this room.
Mum wrote to us and asked Stan to be back at Dorlcote at the week-end as Dad had managed to arrange for a van to pick up our furniture and take it up to 16, where they were going to store it for us. The house in Florence Avenue was very near to Stan’s School, and he was able to pop home for a coffee at the mid-morning break.
On the 15th September, I was waiting at the gate with Pam looking out for Stan to come and have his coffee when I saw a car drawing up at the house and out stepped Uncle Henry. Stan came along then and we went into the house. Uncle said to Stan, “Hold her, Stan, I have some bad news” — then he said “Your mother is dead”. Apparently Dad had arrived home from work about 1 p.m. the day before, as things were still upside down at the office, he had found the kitchen door locked, as he came in the side entrance. When he finally got in, Mum was dead in the dining room, she had gassed herself by sitting in a chair covered with blankets and holding the gas poker. She had laid blankets down at the door and stuffed something up the chimney, so she was determined to end her life.
When they had returned to No. 16, she had been very busy getting the boy’s clothes ready for them to go to Brighton, and when they finally went, she said “I have lost the lot now”. Dad blacked out the house very thoroughly and as they were on their own, he moved beds down to the dining room to make this their bedroom.
Stan arranged to take me back to Dorlcote, Dad was in a terrible state, and that first night wasn’t very nice. Stan had to go straight back to Maidenhead. However, Granny came up and we tidied the house and got ready for the funeral. Auntie Winnie looked after the children that day.
Dad decided that he was going to shut up the house, and he arranged for a Van to call and take us and him and the boys back to Maidenhead. We dropped him off at Windsor where he was going to look for digs, and Mr. Archer allowed the boys to stay with us for the night. He managed to get rooms at a small restaurant in Windsor High Street. He was able to travel up to London to work, and the boys joined the local school.
So we settled down to some sort of existence. We had Wendy christened at the local Church. Hillier and Helena were her Godmothers and Peter her Godfather. Dad moved from the restaurant to a little pub at Eton, which was very comfortable. Later his Doctor’s wife and child joined him there, and the people, who ran the pub were very nice and friendly. Dr. Mitchell came down at week-ends.
Dad and the boys spent Christmas at Manchester and Den, I believe, got leave, he was being moved around from different camps, but he hadn’t gone abroad. We went down to Aylesford, and Frank and Phyllis were there as well.
On arriving back at Maidenhead after spending the Christmas at Aylesford, we found floods extending to the end of Florence Avenue, so that from the bedroom windows we looked across a large stretch of water going back to the river. This was great fun for the children billeted in large houses near the river as they came to school by boat, and it was necessary for a teacher to stand near where the boat moored to make sure they got off, otherwise they went back for another trip.
After the floods we had heavy snow, and I can remember having great difficulty with the pram with Pam and Wendy in it trying to get through thick snow. However, we were very comfortable in the room with the large fire, although washing presented some problems.
At the beginning of February one of Stan’s colleagues told us that there was a house to be let in the next road to where he lived, which was up near Maidenhead Thicket. We went along and had a look and decided to move in. So we got our furniture back from No.16 Dorlcote, and as far as I can remember moved into 13 Orchard Close on the 13th February.
As it happens these 13s didn’t prove very lucky for us. As soon as we moved in Stan had ‘flu, and was supposed to stay in bed, as I had the Doctor to see him. However, when the Doctor came for the second time, he was in his dressing gown putting our stair carpet down.
From then onwards Spring made its appearance, and it was certainly lovely in this area. Our garden had been part of an orchard and had lots of fruit trees with masses of daffodils. It was lovely when the trees were in bloom and also the daffs. Stan was often home early in the afternoon, as they shared the school with the local children, one week they taught in the mornings and vice versa. We went for long walks on the Thicket, which I believe still is a lovely place.
However, Stan was not very happy with this life, it became boring for him, and he knew that he would be called up into the Army, as teachers were only exempt if they were over 35. He decided to volunteer for the Airforce, and he went along to Cardington and passed all the necessary tests to become a Pilot. He came home very happy waiting to be sent for. However, in June he received his call up papers for the Army, and although he tried to get out of it, apparently they were dated before he had been accepted for the Air Force, and they said there was no way of getting round this. On June 19th he packed and went off to Colchester leaving me in floods of tears, alone in our little house.
The first night that I spent on my own, we had an air raid warning, and I was petrified. Stan had told me to move the children down to the cupboard under the stairs, as this was reckoned to be a safe place in the house, and I think I made up a bed there and stayed with them for some hours.
I had made friends with Mr. and Mrs. Wright who had two children, Margaret and Julie, a little older that Pam and Wendy. Mr Wright taught at the School with Stan. He was very kind and popped in to see me in the evenings, but I was very lonely, and missed Stan terribly.
Dad came down one week-end, and suggested I should spend a week-end in London which he thought might help. I managed to get the children up to Vardens Road, where dad was living. I must side track here — Dad had developed a bad attack of lumbago whilst he was at Windsor, and it was necessary for him to stay in bed, so his sister Auntie Edie, said that he and the boys had better go and live with her. She let them have her big front room, and even though the house was full to overflowing, she coped. Aunite Edie said “You’re not going back to the house on your own”, and apparently they had fitted out a little flat for me at No. 16 Dorlcote — a Mr. Dolan and family who had worked at Waifs was already living there, and I had the back room and front bedroom. It was very makeshift. As I only had a gas ring, and managed somehow to wash-up in this room. However, it was much better than being so lonely down at Maidenhead.
I went down with Alice and Frank in a van that they managed to hire, and we brought all our furniture back once again and stored it in the attics. The man who owned No. 13 Orchard Close seemed very depressed as this particular house had changed hands so much. The previous tenants had had to move as the man developed T.B. However, I should not have been able to carry on paying the 22 shilling rent, as my Army allowance was only about £2.00.
I found that I was able to visit Stan at Colchester on Sundays, and occasionally Aunt Edie would have the two children and I would go down there for the day, which was bliss.
I had taken them on the Common one day in August, when the sirens sounded and everybody started running for home. This time it was for real — so began the Battle of Britain. I hurried home and with Mrs. Dolan went down to the shelter, and the German planes came over and there was some bombing. Our pattern of life changed, as we were to spend time in that shelter. Towards 7 p.m. we started packing a bag with thermos flasks and I made up quite a comfortable bed for Pam and Wendy, then when the sirens sounded off we went with our blankets, and tried to get some sleep, but the noise was terrific, our guns joining in.
At the beginning of September some bombs landed on the Common by the Patriotic School and they did not explode, so the Wardens advised us to get out of our houses. Dad came up and said he could arrange for me and the children, also David, to go to one of the WAIFS Homes in Oxfordshire. I would help with the staff, David would be billeted and the children treated the same as the other children. So off we went.
It was rather a frightening journey as whilst we were on the platform at Paddington, the sirens went and we could hear the German planes. However, we got there, and I was given a nice room with a cot for Wendy. Pam was in a small dormitory but she was a very independent child, so she didn’t mind. The Matron said it would be best if I treated my children the same as the others or there would be trouble. There were certainly some very homesick children there, one little girl called me Mummy as Pam and Wendy did. There was one lovely little boy called Ivan, whose mother had disappeared, and there was no known father — I wonder what became of him. I had breakfast with the children and I think I had lunch and tea with the staff.
It was a glorious stately home, which had been taken over by the Society from Lord and Lady ( . . . .?). There was a wide terrace at the back of the house and steps down to a lake and then gardens and open country. David had settled in the home of one of the staff and started at the local school, which incidentally was in a village some distance away. We hardly knew there was a War. The village had two buses a week which ran into Oxford, one mid-week and one on Saturdays.
From the family, with Part 9: “Dear All, Part 9 of the memoirs follows. I’ve added a couple of the Struwwelpeter poems that Mum/Nan used to terrorise us with — they ought to come with a Health Warning, definitely not for the fainthearted. Lots of love Trish.”
All should have been well, but Wendy bitterly resented me seeing to the other children and she cried a lot. She was still crawling, and I remember her trying to keep up with the other children when we marshalled them into meals.
Finally she was not very well, she had a bad attack of diarrhoea, and I had an awful job getting everything cleaned up. Also I had a letter from Stan, and he didn’t seem very happy about this arrangement and us being so far away.
One morning the matron said would I like to take the bus into Oxford, so I decided I would, and I took Pam along. This next incident seems quite out of character, but I was really very mixed up and very worried about Wendy. The bus dropped us at Oxford Station and I heard the porters shouting that the London Express was in. In a split second I grabbed Pam and got onto that train fast.
We arrived in London in the middle of a raid, and it was possible to see the planes attacking each other, with smoke coming from some. I managed to persuade a taxi driver to take us cross to Liverpool Street, there were loads of marvellous people in London at that time — trains, buses, taxis endeavoured to carry on as usual despite raids. We then caught a train to Colchester and to an hotel Stan had mentioned that he sometimes went to for a drink. When I arrived at the hotel I imagine everybody was down in their shelters as there was a fleet of German bombers going over.
They agreed in the hotel to me having a room, and later I caught a bus to Stan’s barracks. I told them I had been bombed out of London and could I see my husband. They took me to a house where he was billeted and he came back to the hotel with me, much shaken I can imagine.
I sent a telegram to the Oxford Home where I had left David and Wendy, and I also ‘phoned Dad — he wasn’t very happy at all, and said in future I must make my own arrangements.
I stayed at the hotel for a few days, and then they said there was a flat going nearby. We had a look at it, apparently it belonged to a Sergeant and his wife who had been sent up North — it was very nice and fully furnished so I moved in. I think Pam and I were sleeping in our underwear, as we had nothing with us.
There was quite a nice woman living downstairs with three children, and she offered to look after Pam whilst I made the journey back to Oxford to get Wendy. I think Stan must have borrowed some money from the hotel people as looking back all this must have been expensive.
I caught the morning train to London and got through to Oxford all right, but then came the problem of getting to Sanford St. Martin which was about 20 miles outside Oxford. I asked some taxi drivers if they would take me, but they said it would cost a lot, and I was almost on the verge of tears, when one kindly chap said he would take me there and back for £1.00 — bless him. When I got to the home, there were some queer looks, and David came over poor boy, but I had to leave him there, there was nothing else I could do. Wendy looked terrible, apparently she hadn’t been eating, but when she saw me she clung tightly to me, and off we went. When we got back I got some tea and biscuits at the station and Wendy started eating again with a vengeance.
We got into London at about 6pm just as the sirens sounded, a very nice man helped me to the tube to get across to Liverpool Street. By that time all the people were settling down to their sleeping positions in the tube stations with bunk beds, and people brought sleeping things, and were sitting there with their bags of food and drink and books all set for the night. My word it was a night, when we got to Liverpool Street, they were bombing the docks, and the noise of the bombs and guns were terrific.
They didn’t want me to go up on to the station, but I had to find out if it was possible to get to Colchester. One nice woman air-raid warden discovered that there was a train in the station that might start out for Colchester sometime during that night. There were lots of troops about, so I suppose they were trying to keep some of the train services going. I sat on a seat with Wendy under the eye of this lady warden. Some sailors were there and one of them, obviously tight, pulled out a flask and said give the baby a drink of this.
Thank heaven for my guardian angel, she soon moved me away from him. I suppose it must have been about 11pm when they said the train driver was going to attempt to get through. They got me to the train which was completely blacked out, and I think they asked a group of soldiers if they would look after me and the babe. There was one very nice chap from Blackpool who had a wife and child of his own, and as I was on that train all night he helped a lot with Wendy, sometimes holding her, but she was very good and slept most of the time.
We were in complete darkness all the time, so I never actually saw him.
The train slowly edged out of the station at about 11pm and then as we neared the dock areas there was fire everywhere, and we even saw the planes dive bombing the fire fighters. The driver of that train had some pluck as I would have thought we were a sitting target, but we were going so slowly and in darkness that we got through.
The soldiers said that they were on their way to Ipswich and Yarmouth, as apparently the Germans had tried to land an invasion force on the beaches but without success, and they were detailed to bury the bodies.
We arrived at Colchester at about 5am, just as the mail van was leaving, so they gave me a lift back to the flat in that.
After this, for a week or two, we settled down. Stan was able to get over in the evenings and sometimes spent the night. It was a nice little flat and quite well furnished, but it was very dirty, so I set about cleaning everything up. I soon realised that there was something off about the lady downstairs, as she had hardly any furniture. It appeared that her husband had cleared her out as the baby, who incidentally was a lovely boy, was the son of a Russian soldier. There was a lovely little girl of three, who sadly only had one eye, then a girl of seven. Apparently when our flat wasn’t let she moved upstairs, and used all their things. As it was, I often had the little girls up to a meal as they seemed neglected.
Occasionally German planes came over and machine-gunned the barracks and of course the town at large. I didn’t like this as we had no warning; the only thing to do was to keep away from the windows. Once they did it whilst Stan was on parade, and as you can imagine they ran inside very quickly.
Before I arrived the town had been declared vulnerable in the event of an invasion and lots of the women and children had been evacuated. There were soldiers everywhere, but to show how unprepared we were for a war, when Stan first arrived they issued him with pikes, and they dug their own holes in the ground to sleep in when on duty. If only the Germans had known this it would have been curtains for us.
I think it was probably in October that Stan had his marching orders. They were to finish their training up North, and a load of Australian troops were moving in. They marched down to the station and I went with them, and once again said goodbye as he got on the train. They didn’t know where they were going, but he promised to write.
One night after this the sirens went and there was quite a bit of bombing. The lady downstairs asked if I would like to come down with the children, so we settled them down, and as it seemed that we were going to have a night of it I got into bed with her. Then she told me the bad news whilst giving me some of her life story. Apparently she was the daughter of a Colonel living in Australia. She had married and had Judy, then the marriage started to go wrong, and she discovered when she had the next child that she had V.D. (venereal disease) and has passed it on to the child, who was born blind in one eye. She had left her husband and he wouldn’t let her have any furniture, then the little boy was born,
I was in a bit of a panic, as we were all using the same toilet — I wrote off to Stan who had landed up at Whalley, Nr. Blackburn, and asked if he could find us a place up there. In the meantime the Russian soldier arrived home on leave, and I discovered that she had put all his clothes in a wardrobe in our bedroom, so he was often up in our flat and I didn’t like him a bit.
However, Stan wrote and said he had been into Manchester to Auntie Alice and Uncle Henry, and they had said I could go up there until Stan could find somewhere for us. Stan came down and we made the journey up through London to Manchester.
About a month after this, having settled at 10, Vincent Avenue, Chorlton-cum-Hardy, Pam had violent convulsions one night, and I don’t know how I would have managed without Auntie. I was so frightened. The doctor came and said give her warm baths. In the morning she seemed to be unconscious, but towards the afternoon she opened her eyes, and I realised that her eyes were crossed. I rang the doctor and on hearing this he rushed round, and diagnosed meningitis.
Towards the evening she was crying with terrible pains in her head and she was going rigid with her head being drawn back and her knees up. The doctor said he would get a specialist along, but he also said if it was T.B. Meningitis there was nothing they could do. After the specialist had seen her we took her to hospital at Pendleton, right across the other side of Manchester. When I handed her over to the nurse I said goodbye, as she seemed to be unconscious and purple in colour.
Stan and I started to make our way back to Chorlton in a terrible state, when we realised we had no money. Stan went up to a policeman and asked if he could help us, and marvellous man, he gave us the money for our fares.
A miracle happened as they phoned from the hospital to say that she had what is called ‘spotted fever’ (Meningococal). Then with the injections and lumbar punctures she gradually improved each day. After about ten days her eyes were all right, and when she came home three weeks later, although very weak, she seemed to have suffered no permanent ill effects. This complaint was reckoned to be infectious so Stan was not allowed at the barracks, but came over to Chorlton for about ten days. Poor Auntie Alice, she was marvellous, we were having frequent raids, so she and John slept in the lounge and we slept in the dining room.
Added by the family: two of the Struwwelpeter poems (Heinrich Hoffmann) that Muriel used to read to them.
The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb
One day, Mamma Said: “Conrad dear,
I must go out and leave you here.
But mind now, Conrad, what I say,
Don’t suck your thumb while I’m away.
The great tall tailor always comes
To little boys that suck their thumbs,
And ere they dream what he’s about,
He takes his great sharp scissors out
And cuts their thumbs clean off, — and then,
You know, they never grow again.”
Mamma had scarcely turned her back,
The thumb was in, Alack! Alack!
The door flew open, in he ran,
The great, long, red-legg’d scissor- man.
Oh! children, see! The tailor’s come
And caught out little Suck-a-Thumb.
Snip! Snap! Snip! The scissors go;
And Conrad cries out — Oh! Oh! Oh!
Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast,
That both his thumbs are off at last.
Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands.
And looks quite sad, and shows his hands, -
“Ah!” said mamma “ I knew he’d come
To naughty little Suck-a Thumb.”
The Story of Augustus Who Would Not Have Any Soup
Augustus was a chubby lad;
Fat ruddy cheeks Augustus had;
And everybody saw with joy
The plump and hearty healthy boy.
He ate and drank as he was told,
And never let his soup get cold.
But one day, one cold winter’s day,
He scream’d out — “Take the soup away!
Oh take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup today.”
Next day, now look, the picture shows
How lank and lean Augustus grows!
Yet, though he feels so weak and ill,
The naughty fellow cries out still —
“Not any soup for me, I say:
Oh take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup to-day.”
The third day comes; Oh what a sin!
To make himself so pale and thin.
Yet, when the soup is put on table,
He screams, as loud as he is able, -
“Not any soup for me, I say:
Oh take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup today.”
Look at him, now the fourth day’s come!
He scarcely weighs a sugar plum;
He’s like a little bit of thread,
And on the fifth day, he was — dead!
At Christmas time it was arranged that Auntie Winnie and Uncle Will should come up as a rest from London, which was still bring badly bombed. What a mistake they made, as the day before Christmas Eve Manchester had its ‘BLITZ’ which meant concentrated bombing all night, and as Manchester is so much smaller than London, the havoc caused was terrible. We sat on the floor of the lounge and the noise was appalling, Uncle had a globe on the book-case, and with the vibration of bombs and guns, this was turning all night. Incendiary bombs were dropping everywhere, and Uncle stationed himself up in the attics and came tearing down every time there things dropped near. Then a land-mine fell on the next road, and demolished most of the houses, all our windows fell out, lights went out and something happened to the chimney in the kitchen. We were all in a state of shock but we managed to make some tea in the dark.
In the morning I thought I had better send Stan a wire to lit him know we were all right, but when I arrived at the post office it wasn’t there. However, Stan came in picking his way across the terrible damage. Dad and Peter and David also arrived and had to walk from the Main Line Station some distance away.
However, the Germans let us alone at Christmas time, how Auntie coped I don’t know.
The big problem this year was what would happen to Pam and Wendy whilst I was having the baby. I attended a clinic and it was arranged that I should go Blackpool to have the birth, as, because of the raids there was no maternity service in Manchester. They said that they could arrange for the children to be looked after, as Uncle Henry said it would be too much for Auntie Alice to have them. In February I was having a lot of tooth ache, and I went to Auntie’s dentist and he said that they were in such a bad state, that it would be best for me to have the lot out, and have false teeth. Didn’t like the idea at all, but Auntie encouraged me to go ahead, as my teeth were so unsightly. I therefore had them out at three goes, Auntie looked after the children and she was a real brick. At the end I had a temporary set straight away — it was terribly painful to wear them whilst I was eating, but I gradually got used to them, and when I had my permanent set (which I still have thirty years later), I was sorry to part with the temporary ones.
Stan came over quite frequently and he sometimes brought some of his friends over, Hazel and Madge and Edith had a bit of a giggle with them I remember going to one Rotary Dance, and Stan turned up with his two friends in army boots, there was a quick search round and they managed to supply them with dancing shoes. I think it was at this Dance that Madge met Bob Willan, the son of a fellow Rotarian, he was a great big chap, and apparently his father had lots of money as he was a well known builder.
I think it must have been in April that Stan was transferred to Salisbury, and once again I got restless. Auntie looked after the children one week-end whilst I went to London, I met Stan at his Grand-mother’s and we went to stay with Dad at Eastcote. We also looked around for a flat, but it was hopeless, they were so expensive.
When I arrived back in Manchester, Auntie had had some trouble with her back, it seemed to start when she was leaning over the bath to see to Pam and Wendy, soon after she was terribly sick, and had to have a few days in bed. She saw the Doctor and he advised her to see a Specialist, as she seemed to have a small growth on her navel. When she came back she seemed so relieved as he said it was nothing to worry about, and apparently she had very worried, as her sister died of cancer of the stomach, and this was what she thought it might be.
About this time Dad wrote to say that Elsie, who had been looking after him at Eastcote, as Bob was now in the Navy, had decided to go back to her flat as there wasn’t much bombing in London by then — the Battle of Britain was now over. Dad suggested o should go to the flat and get booked in at a Hospital nearby.
So it was arranged and I think I must have come down to Eastcote in June. I remember saying goodbye to Auntie Alice, who had been tremendously to kind to us three. It was the last time I saw her as after I left she became very ill, and Uncle brought her to London to see another Specialist and he diagnosed unoperable cancer in the stomach, she dies the day I arrived home with Eric, which must have been the 9th September.
I settled in at Eastcote and remember that it was a lovely summer. The house was attached to St. Michael’s School, which the Waifs had taken over. There was a glorious garden at the side with a stream running through, and we often had our tea on the little patch that was allocated to our flat. I seem to remember that I booked in at a Nursing Home at Eastcote to start with, and then I found out that there was no Doctor there, and as I had had so much trouble with Wendy, I thought it would be wiser to go to a Hospital. I found that Hillingdon was the nearest, and I managed to book in there — often Mr. Stevens ran me over there in the Office car.
Peter was working for the Northwood Borough Council, and David was at School at Northwood. Dad had managed to arrange for a woman to come in every day to do the housework, so I was really sitting pretty. One problem remained as to what would happen to Pam and Wendy whilst I was in Hospital. However, Peter arranged for them to go to a foster mother at Northwood Hills when the time arrived.
I think Eric was due at the end of July, but as usual nothing happened, and finally when it got the 20th August and nothing had happened, Dad said that he had better take his holiday or he wouldn’t be able to go away with the boys at all. They were going down to the Caravan which was at Middleton, they couldn’t sleep in it, but were able to have a bedroom in the house. Dad arranged for Grannie to come and stay with us, and off they went. I remember that I was sitting taking to Mrs. Hefford one Monday evening, it must have been the 25th, and I realised that I was starting pains. She went across to the office and phoned for the ambulance, and we sat there waiting, until she realised that the ambulance might miss the gates to the house, as there was a long drive from the road, so she waited in the road, and finally it arrived. I had to go off on my own, as Grannie was going to look after the children, and Mrs. H. had to get home. Off I went sitting in the ambulance with the Nurse in the dark and going along pitch dark roads, I really felt frightened, and hated leaving Pam and Wendy.
The Nurses in the Hospital were marvellous, and I didn’t have a very long labour. I think Eric arrived at about 5a.m. and there were no complications. A Sister Baldrey was in charge and she was very nice. Apparently Mrs. Hefford sent a telegram to Stan, and he was allowed to come and see me for a couple of days. Grannie had sat up all night, and the next morning somebody from the Office had taken the children up to Mrs. Smith, the foster-mother, at Northwood Hills. I think Dad and the boys finished the week out at Middleton, and then came back with Grannie to look after them.
As I had had such as easy birth, I was chosen with others to go to Harefield House after the third day, and it was really lovely there. I think this had been one of the houses that Nell Gwynne had lived in — a really lovely stately home in magnificent grounds. After a few days we were allowed to get up tp meals in the Dining Room downstairs, and to sit on the Terrace. Dad or one of the boys came to see me quite a bit, and the other women were very friendly. Eric was a gorgeous baby, so I enjoyed my stay there.
As I said before Auntie Alice died the day I arrived home, and Grannie had just received the wire and was crying when she opened the door. I was terribly sad, as Auntie was a really marvellous person — so kind.
Grannie stayed with us for a week or two, then I decided to have Pam and Wendy back, and she went home. So I now had three children to cope with, two brothers and a Dad. Occasionally Stan or Den came home on leave, so I was kept very busy.
It wasn’t a very good winter for us, we seemed to collect one thing after another, we all h ad very bad coughs and colds, and I had my usual ear trouble. Then David and Wendy had impetigo, which was very difficult to get rid of. Finally, I started rheumatic fever, and had to stay in bed being given very strong anti-biotics. I managed to clear it off, but I was beginning to think that it would be a good idea for me to go back to 16, Dorlcote. The owner of the house had told Dad that I could stay there, but she hoped the baby wouldn’t be a nuisance with crying. He was actually very good. At Christmas time Auntie Winnie and Uncle Will joined us, and Dad took over one of the Office Huts, and we had dinner over there, as our rooms were so small in the flat. I remember it was a lovely day, and we were able to get the food over there quite easily.
Eric was getting along very well, I was breast feeding him and he was gaining well. However, I was always a little apprehensive when he cried, as the woman that owned the house “Sunnyside” had told Dad that she didn’t really like babies in the flats she let, and that she wouldn’t put up with one that cried a lot. I had in the back of my mind the idea that it would be good to go back to 16, Dorlcote. Since that Battle of Britain there hadn’t been much bombing, we were living fairly normal lives. Stan was alternating between his Camp at Chigwell and one at Llandidloes in Wales. Once he dropped in quite unexpectedly as he was driving a lorry back from Wales. I had a bedroom with two single beds and a cot, so if he stayed the night we had to make do with single beds.
Sometimes when I came back from shopping, and usually I had managed to get the three children in the pram, I used to see Edna going home from work with her friend Pam Morrell — actually she was Madge Bohling’s niece and a lot younger than Edna, but they seemed to get on quite well. Edna at that time was Dad’s secretary at Waifs.
On the 14th June I moved back to No. 16. I think Dad arranged for Mr. Stevens to bring us up in the car. Dad and the boys helped to move furniture around, and I made myself a flat on the ground floor, sleeping in the front room. I wasn’t very keen on being in the house on my own, so Alice said she would come up and sleep there until I got used to it. Soon after I met Mum’s brother Len’s sister-in-law, Lil Schubert, down the Junction and she said that her brother and his wife were desperately in need of a flat as theirs had been bombed. They came up and looked at the middle floor and decided they would take it. One day Pat came over to hang curtains before moving in, and she discovered that it was not possible to have a gas stove fitted in the small back room as there was no gas there. She said she couldn’t mess about having pipes laid, so she decided they wouldn’t come after all — she was a bit of a madam.
Then we heard from Auntie Edie that Ted Ealy was getting married and they were looking for a flat, so they decided to take the two back rooms upstairs, which left the front bedroom for Dad if he wanted to come up. He had managed to get the wife of one of their van drivers to house-keep for him and the boys, and although she wasn’t a very good cook, they were getting by.
Eileen and Ted moved in, she was quite an attractive young thing, and she immediately got a job locally so I didn’t see much of them. One fly in the ointment was that they bought a dog, which wasn’t at all satisfactory in an upstairs flat, and it was alone most of the day. I couldn’t do much about it, as I had enough on my hands with the three children
Stan was due for leave in August, and as Dad had the caravan nicely set up at Middleton and we could sleep in the house, we decided to go down there for a week. This wasn’t a very good idea as it turned out, as it meant roughing it a bit, and Stan would probably much have preferred a few home comforts. Also it wasn’t possible for the children to go in the sea as there was barbed wire and enormous iron structures along all the beaches, and the approach roads were guarded by soldiers. All this was to help in the event of the Germans invading.
One day we went into Bognor to do some shopping and as we were walking down the High Street I said to Stan “That plane has lost its wheel”, it had come very low over the sea — it was a bomb, and the next minute there was an enormous explosion and all the windows of the shops fell out. We dashed into the greengrocer’s shop where there was a lady air-raid warden, and she said “All lie flat on your stomachs” — but of course it was too late as the plane was fast disappearing over the sea. I think Bognor Church was damaged in this raid.
Later in the week we had put the children to bed in the house, and were sitting in the caravan reading, when we heard the roar of planes and machine gunning getting rapidly nearer. We made one of the fastest dashes to the house on record, tore up to the bedroom grabbed the children under the beds with us, and then there was a terrific explosion. From my position under the bed I saw the fireplace jump up six inches. We afterwards learnt that one of our planes was chasing a German bomber which crashed in the field behind, and all of its bomb load went up with a mighty roar.
All in all this was not a very successful holiday, and I think Stan went back to his Camp for a rest cure.
In November of this year, after a great number of battles in the Middle East, the Invasion of North Africa took place, and brother Digger was in on of the first landings. He was with the Royal Artillery with an Ack-Ack Battery and I think by this time he was a Lieutenant. The landings took place in Tunisia and were highly successful, so began the long trek across North Africa by the Fifth Army which was eventually to meet up with the Eighth Army in the invasion of Italy. Stan was hearing rumours that he would be going abroad, and we guessed it would be North Africa.
Dad was doing a lot of work in the evenings for the Cadet Corps of the Tank Brigade at Clapham Junction, he was Captain. He often popped in to see me before going to the Cadets.
At Christmas this year Stan managed to get home, and Dad invited Major Crafter and one or two friends on Boxing Day — it wasn’t a very happy Christmas, as somehow Stan resented Dad staying with us and of course the boys. I think I can see how he felt, as it meant we never had any time on our own.
Pam was five in December, and was due to start school in January. The Beatrix Potter School was called the Magdalene Road School, and as so many children were evacuated it took children of all ages in the area. Whilst David was living with Auntie Edie at the beginning of the War, he went to this school and became very friendly with Duncan and John Mattey.
Peter had met a nice girl called Ursula who lived somewhere near Northwood, and sometimes he brought her up to Dorlcote.
Pam started school this January, and she seemed to like it. It was rather a job in the morning getting the three of them ready to take her down to the school. One morning I met a niece of Mrs. Mattey’s, one of a family that were living in her top flat as they had to leave Lowestoft because their house was near the shore, and because of defence regulations nobody was allowed to live in houses near the beach. However, she was attending Magdalene Road School, and she said she would call for Pam and bring her home at lunchtime and the in the afternoon, so from then on everything was easy.
Then in February Stan came home for a few days, he thought this was probably embarkation leave — Pam was not at all well, running a high temperature, we had the doctor to her, but he didn’t seem to know what it was. I was in a bit of a state, probably at the thought of Stan going away, and I think Dad came in that week-end, and said that things weren’t going too well at Eastcote, the housekeeper, Mrs. Brooks, was a rotten cook, and the boys hated her meals. He wondered if I would undertake looking after them now that Stan was going abroad, it would help me financially. Of course, I agreed, but I don’t think Stan liked it.
After Stan had gone back, I found that Pam was covered with a rash and, of course, she had got measles. Once that rash arrived, she didn’t seem too bad, but there was the thought that the other two would automatically catch it, which they did one after the other. However, Eric was to have all these things very mildly, and I only caught sight of the rash very faintly one morning.
Stan phoned and said they were off. Then Dad and David moved in. Peter had decided to go into digs, and strangely enough he went to the Mrs. Smith who had been the foster mother when I had Eric.
I think it must have been in March that Dad received a telegram one morning to say that Digger had been badly wounded.
Here I must digress as I know that I didn’t mention that at Christmas 1941, when Digger had just attained the age of 21, he came to Uncle Henry’s at Christmas time, and we were all very thrilled as he had just got his commission and was a Second Lieutenant. He looked very nice in his Officer’s uniform. That Christmas Madge’s school-friend, Edith, came round to the house quite a bit, and she and Digger became very friendly. Edith eventually joined the Wrens and went into training as a Wren officer. I think at the time that Digger was wounded, they were definitely courting and she was stationed up in Scotland.
Dad asked Edith if she would come down when Digger arrived home. He had been in a field hospital in North Africa after being blown up by a mine. He was guiding a truck back after they found they were in a minefield. The off- side wheel hit a mine, and the truck and driver were blown to smithereens, but Digger received the blast all down the left side, which meant his arm was smashed and there was a big hole in his leg. When he arrived in England, as he could walk, they allowed him to come home on leave before going into hospital for treatment. I shall never forget Dad taking the bandage off his leg and seeing this great big wound. His arm had been split right open, but the bones had been set and everything stitched up. Edith arrived on leave, and things picked up again.
The next thing was that Pam went to school and immediately picked up whooping cough — there were no injections then against this and it was very nasty. However, as it was summer time they could play in the garden, although I couldn’t take them to the shops. Wendy had it very badly, I remember that after they went to bed at night this was the worst period, and I usually sat there with a bowl until the coughing and sickness subsided. One evening Wendy nearly choked and I remember picking her up and running into the garden for air!! Eric had it very slightly just as a normal cough.
Digger went into the St. Mary’s Hospital at Roehampton and they began to do skin-grafting, which never seemed to take on the leg. He was allowed to come home when they weren’t operating.
I had heard from Stan and he was in North Africa, although his first letter was so cut about by the censors that it didn’t make sense. He said he was so fed up that he wrote things that he knew they wouldn’t like.
To finish up a really bad year, I think it was in November that Pam was very ill again and this time it was scarlet fever. She had it terribly badly, but I had to nurse her at home as there were no facilities for this disease in the hospitals, which I suppose were full up with the wounded. The Doctor said I must keep her in isolation, so Wendy and Eric went into a room upstairs, and I slept with Pam in the big downstairs front room, we kept a disinfected sheet at the door. Apparently at that time this was the only reported case in the area, so goodness knows where she got it from. It was a long illness, and thank goodness the other two didn’t catch it.
Ted and Eileen had given up the flat, she had developed appendicitis, and also had a miscarriage, so that when she came out of hospital she was terribly weak and they didn’t come back to the flat but went to live with Auntie Bess.
One rather funny incident was that sometime after Pam was better, there was a knock at the door and two men said they had come to collect the infected mattress. Well by this time we had moved the beds upstairs, and turned the front room into a lounge. So I wasn’t sure which was the mattress. I am sure I gave them the wrong one.
David was accepted at Henry Thornton School. He had been to so many schools that his education was badly affected. He didn’t like doing homework, however, I think he quite liked this school, and he stayed there till he started work.
Peter was to be called up into the R.A.F. and he started training as a Pilot, this meant going to Canada. I can’t remember exactly when this happened, but he had a marvellous time out there, although he never did any active service as the War was over before he qualified.
Can’t remember much about this Christmas, I think Edith was home, and I vaguely remember that we made a cake using dates and prunes etc. and it was quite good.
With thanks to Muriel’s family.