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This story has been submitted to the People's War site by Christine Wadsworth of Wakefield Libraries and Information Services on behalf of Audrey Reilly ( nee Carrington) and has been added with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

There was an urgent knock on our back door one tea-time probably during 1943 or 1944. Before we could answer it, the caller had unlatched the door and shouted to my mother, 鈥淎re you there Marion?鈥� My mother instantly recognised my Aunt鈥檚 voice and shouted back 鈥淐ome in Nellie鈥�.

When Mum and I entered the living room, we were most surprised to find two strange girls clutching Auntie Nellie鈥檚 hands.

鈥淭hese two are evacuees,鈥� she said, before going on to explain that she had, that afternoon, been going down to Hemsworth Station to meet the train from London, bringing a large group of evacuee children. (Hemsworth was considered to be a much safer place than London, and indeed it was.)

Auntie had chosen these two, who were sisters and had come to ask if my mother would take in the younger one, called Barbara who was a similar age to me and she would take Shirley, the older one, as a companion for my cousin, Margaret. She reasoned that as sisters, they would want to see a lot of each other, so to live within a family and just a few doors away would be the ideal solution. My mother agreed, and so Barbara Mileham from Willesden NW10, became my 鈥渟ister鈥� for about two years.

Neither girl seemed to have much luggage with them. They did bring their gas masks and ration books though. After a long, sad, tiring journey, my mother occupied herself in trying to settle a bewildered little girl into our home.

The evacuees all had to go to school, and in my class, at Archbishop Holgate School, we must have had about eight extra pupils all at once. We had so many pupils that for the teacher to call out individual names at registration would have taken too long. We were all given a number to call instead. This made calling the register a very swiftly accomplished task. Fortunately, discipline was well maintained and all the teachers coped well with the situation, after all, there was a war on!

At school, we did not hang our coats in the cloakroom. We hung our coats and gas masks on the backs of our chairs, then if there was an air-raid warning, we stood up, picked up our coats and gas masks and filed out swiftly in a well drilled manner into the air-raid shelter. The roll-call was taken again.

At home, when the air-raid warning siren went off, usually during the night, we trooped down to the cellar. Mum had rigged up a bed for me by putting a cot mattress on top of a very large tea chest.

I remember one air raid very vividly. Barbara, Mum and I were down the cellar when we heard the droning of aeroplanes overhead. Barbara was absolutely terrified and kept saying it was a 鈥淒oodlebug鈥�. We believed her as we really thought she could recognise the distinctive sound of a flying bomb as she had experienced them in London.
We all held our breath and waited for the engine to stop, (which meant it would fall out of the sky), but it didn鈥檛 and eventually when the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� signal went, we heaved a great sigh of relief and went back to bed.

Families who housed an evacuee were given, by the local authority, a utility chest of drawers and a palliasse (straw mattress) for use by the evacuee. I still have the chest of drawers, but not the palliasse. When Barbara arrived we already had a proper spare bed so my mother gave the palliasse away.

Barbara brought with her, her ration book and identity card. She probably brought some clothing coupons as well. As she grew out of her clothes, my mother had to provide her with new ones. Mostly my mother used her coupons and money, of course, to buy material and made dresses for us on her sewing machine.

Christmas time was particularly difficult during the war. Things were VERY SCARCE and rationing made treats impossible. My mother always made Barbara and I alike with our Christmas gifts. Barbara鈥檚 family on the other hand sent Barbara gifts, but nothing for me 鈥� which I found a bit tough. Some of the books I got for Christmas were hand-me-downs from my older cousins.

One year I wrote a letter to my father telling him that from Father Christmas I had received two Mickey Mouse annuals.

Fortunately Hemsworth did not suffer very much in the Blitz.

At the end of the war, Barbara鈥檚 father came to take her and Shirley back home again. We promised faithfully that we would write to one another, but sadly we never did. Margaret never heard from Shirley either. I have often wondered what happened to them and if Barbara remembers the good times and all the fun we had.

See also 'Marion Carrington's Story'

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