by Anne Baker
The Home Sister led them across to the nurse’s home and allotted them their rooms. June thought hers fairly spartan to look at but there were radiators which meant central heating when the cold weather came. She’d been measured for her uniform when she’d come for her medical exam and it was piled on the narrow bed waiting for her.
‘Change into your uniforms,’ the sister ordered and held up what looked like a large gauze tray cloth. ‘This is your cap. Bring one with you to the sitting room and I’ll teach you how to fold it.’
They did as they were told. June felt very strange in the stiff striped dress of heavy cotton.
‘I see you’ve all remembered to bring two tiepins to hold up the bibs of your aprons, and I hope you’ve all brought hair clips or a hat pin for your caps.’ Her eyes went round the group, looking at their hair. ‘Long hair is to be worn up tucked under your cap. Short hair must be short enough not to touch your collar at the back, and must not be all over your face. A fringe is allowed but only if it is cut an inch above the eyebrows.’
Three of the girls were advised to get a haircut. June had twisted her long honey-coloured curls into a French pleat before coming. They had to concentrate hard to fold their caps correctly and when June clipped it on her head it felt anything but secure.
‘You all look like nurses now,’ the sister told them, ‘and in future,’ she looked June in the eye, ‘you will be addressed as Nurse Dransfield. You do not address your fellow nurses by their given names on the ward, it is unprofessional.’
The Sister Tutor arrived and took them to see the school. She told them they’d be spending the next six weeks there from nine until four thirty, but they would have breakfast at seven o’clock with the other nurses and work on the wards between seven thirty and nine o’clock.
‘It is now half past six and time for the first seating at supper, so I’ll take you along to the dining room and wish you goodnight. Do not be late for classes. I’ll see you all at nine o’clock sharp.’
The last thing June wanted was food, but she followed the others and held her plate out in front of the serving counter to receive a portion cauliflower cheese. She found herself seated at a long table between two girls, one from Ireland called Mary O’Leary and the other from Birkenhead called Doreen Brown.
When they were trooping back to the nurses’ sitting room, June fled to her bedroom to remove her new uniform and lay it out ready for the morning. She pulled on the blouse and skirt she’d come in and ran to Ralph’s rooms, taking great gulps of fresh air as she crossed the park. He was reading his Sunday paper and was surprised to see her. She flung herself into his arms and poured out all her news to him.
‘I hope I’ve done the right thing, the sisters are formidable and much stricter than Mum.’ Ralph swept her into a comforting hug. ‘It doesn’t look as though nursing is going to be a laugh a minute, but it is bliss to be able to run up to see you like this.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS EARLY SEPTEMBER AND time for the new school year to start. On the first day, Amy was on edge. Bessie got her out of bed early, cut a sandwich for her lunch and filled a brown sauce bottle with milk.
‘This morning,’ she said, ‘I’ll walk down with you to meet the taxi and see you into it.’ The taxi had to come from town, collecting children on its way. It then had to go a further twelve miles or so along the road to pick up the children from farms further up the valley and get them to school for the nine o’clock start.
‘You’ll be able to find your way home by yourself, won’t you?’ Amy could see Auntie Bessie was anxious about that.
‘Yes,’ she said, though she was nervous because everything was so different, except her green gymslip and blazer with green and gold tie. Her familiar old uniform was something of a comfort.
Before long, a large taxi with several children inside drew up in front of them. The driver called the usual friendly greetings in Welsh as Bessie opened the back door, pushed her inside and waved her off.
The children stared at Amy and fingered her gymslip, but they spoke English to her and alternated between English and Welsh between themselves. Bessie had assured her she’d meet up with the children that had come from her school but these were all strangers.
The taxi emptied outside the school and the children trooped straight inside, drawing Amy with them to the girls’ cloakroom where they hung up their coats. It surprised Amy to see that each of the girls wore a pinafore over a jumper and skirt and had heavy workman-type boots of stiff unlined leather with steel studs on sole and heel.
One girl was both friendly and pretty and said her name was Glenys. She thought Amy’s sturdy lace-ups were fancy and called them town shoes. She showed her the girls’ playground, a bare patch of concrete with railings round, with the girls’ lavatories on the far side, which stank even more than the one at Coed Cae Bach.
Amy thought they played around for what seemed an age before school began, but eventually a bell was rung and they all trooped into the main schoolroom. The others began to sit down at their desks but the teacher sent Amy on to another small room divided from the main schoolroom by a partition of wood and glass.
Here she was relieved to see the familiar faces of the other evacuees, seven girls and one boy and all about her own age. They were all from her school and some had been in her class.
Miss Cosgrove came over from her lodgings at the manse carrying a large bag in which a Thermos flask could be seen. She told them that Miss Morris, who taught the youngest age group, those between five and seven, had kindly given up her classroom to accommodate them. Miss Morris now had to teach the small ones on the other side of the partition, which meant there were two classes being taught in the same room.
Miss Cosgrove handed out new pens and exercise books and her lessons were what Amy was used to. She was able to relax.
When school was over, the taxi was waiting outside but it was going up the road and Amy found Glenys and some of the other children walked home rather than wait for the taxi to return. The other children pointed out the wicket gate to her that led up the cwm. Auntie Bessie congratulated her on finding her way home alone. She was setting the table for afternoon tea, but first Amy was sent upstairs to change out of her school clothes. They sat down together to eat bread and butter with homemade jam and cake, together with stewed plums from the orchard and junket and cream.
Amy loved the junket. Bessie told her she would show her how to make it. All that was needed was to fill a bowl with a pint of warm fresh milk straight from the cow and stir in the junket powder which contained rennet and came in flavours like strawberry and banana. It would set as soon as it was cold.
As soon as the meal was over, Bessie brought the washing-up bowl to the table, put the pots they’d used in and tipped hot water from the kettle over them. The washed dishes were lifted out one by one on to a tin tray and Amy dried them.
Bessie refilled the kettle, banked up the fire and said, ‘Time for afternoon milking now. Come and help me look for the cows.’
‘I know where they’ll be,’ Amy said. ‘I passed them on my way home from school.’
‘Yes, if you could bring the cows up with you tomorrow, it would be a great help,’ she said. ‘It would save me having to walk down to look for them straight after tea.’
‘They’re such big things.’ Amy wasn’t sure about the cows.
‘Cows are gentle creatures, there’s no need to be afraid of them,’ Bessie told her. ‘They wouldn’t hurt anybody.’
‘But will they come when I tell them to?’
‘Of course they will. Here they are, look. You call hobe to them.’
‘Hobe hobe,’ Amy called weakly. Both cows looked up at her and then their heads went straight down again to tear at the grass.
‘It’ll be easier tomorrow because you’ll be below them. Just give them a tap and push them up. If you’re calling them you need to shout,’ Bessie said. ‘You have to show them you are the boss.’
Am
y tried again. They took a couple of paces towards her and paused for more grass.
Bessie let out a growl of irritation and waved her walking stick at them. Slowly they started to lumber up the steep sideland, taking the back way into the farmyard.
‘They move for you because you have a stick,’ Amy told her. ‘I might feel braver if I had one.’
‘Here,’ she said, ‘take this. You follow them. You’ll need to open the back gate to the farmyard to let them in and be sure to shut it behind you. I’ll go back the way we’ve come and open up the cowshed.’
Amy thought it a very risky thing she was about to do. She didn’t think her sister June would want to do it and she wasn’t scared of the dark or of crossing busy roads. Feeling very daring, Amy went up close to Grumpy and gave her a tap on the back. It made her quicken her pace and lift up her tail to let several steaming pats of manure burst out, just as she had for Uncle Jack.
Amy didn’t feel so brave when it was time to open the gate to the farmyard. She had to pass them to reach it and climbed round in a big circle to do it. By then Bessie had opened the back door to the cowshed and Sunshine led the way straight into her own stall. Grumpy lumbered into hers.
‘There,’ Auntie Bessie said as Amy hovered at the door. ‘That was excellent. Now come on in and I’ll show you how I tie them up.’
Amy nodded grimly and flattened herself against the cowshed wall to keep as far away as possible from Grumpy’s swishing tail. She watched Bessie pick up the heavy chain and fearlessly put both arms round Grumpy’s neck to clip the ends together. Grumpy stood still and let her do it.
‘They’re used to it, you see. Now let’s see you tie up Sunshine.’
They went to the next stall. Amy swallowed hard and made herself stretch her arms round the cow’s thick neck to do it. It seemed absolutely enormous and her cheek rubbed against Sunshine’s curly hide. Her tongue came out to lick the back of Amy’s hand; it felt like sandpaper and her breath smelled of new milk.
‘There, we’ll make a country girl of you yet.’ Auntie Bessie beamed at her as she turned to push a stool in position near Grumpy’s udder. ‘Would you like to learn to milk?’
‘No thank you.’ Amy fled back to the house. She was well pleased with what she’d achieved but couldn’t cope with more just yet. Not even Marmaduke meowing for milk could make her stay.
Amy became aware that Grumpy was acting strangely and Auntie Bessie and Jack were concerned.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ she asked but they just shook their heads. One afternoon, Jack came home from work and told them he’d made arrangements for Grumpy to see the bull and asked Amy if she would like to help him and Fly walk the cow up to Llanhafod farm for this. It would be her job to run ahead and open gates.
A premium bull was kept at Llanhafod, the big farm near the school, and his services were provided to the local farmers for a modest sum as a means of improving the breeding quality of the local cattle. On the road just below the farm, Amy had noticed an almost new telephone kiosk, and she thought she might be able to use it to speak to her family.
‘We have a phone at home,’ she told Jack, ‘and Mum has one at the shop. I know how to use them, but this one is different. I lifted it up on the way home from school the other day but the operator didn’t ask for my number. It has buttons and things inside to make it work. Can you show me what to do?’
Uncle Jack opened the door of the kiosk as they came level with it to see what she was talking about. ‘No.’ He let the door swing back. ‘I know nothing about phones.’
‘I think I’ll have to put money in it, won’t I?’
‘I’ve never used one, I don’t know. Nobody has a phone here.’
The farmer came to greet Jack as soon they drove Grumpy into his farmyard. He let the bull out of its stall to join Grumpy while Amy was closing the gates behind them. She was entranced with what Grumpy was doing when the farmer’s wife came out to join them.
She took Amy by the hand. ‘Come indoors and have a glass of lemonade,’ she invited. ‘Better, Jack, if I take her away. No point in her losing her innocence.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She was asking me how the telephone works, can you tell her?’
Amy could see the recently erected sub-post office built of red zinc sheets against the side of the farmhouse, and was reminded that the farmer’s wife was also the postmistress.
‘We have a phone at home,’ Amy said, ‘and if I’m there Pa expects me to answer it when it rings, so I know how it works.’
‘Yes, bach, it would be nice for you to talk to your family.’ She took her into the sub-post office and picked up the phone.
‘It’s the one in the kiosk I want to know about.’
‘I can put you through from here.’
‘But I want to know how to use that one, so I can ring my Mum on the way home from school. She’s got a phone at her shop. It’s those buttons I want to know about and how to put the money in.’
‘Come on then and I’ll show you.’ They walked the fifty yards down the road to the kiosk. ‘You need two pennies to make it work.’
‘I haven’t brought any money with me,’ Amy said, embarrassed. ‘I thought perhaps tomorrow . . .’
‘No matter.’ The postmistress took a purse from her pocket and gave her twopence. ‘You can pay me back tomorrow when you come to school.’
‘I will,’ Amy said eager to try it now. She watched carefully as the postmistress demonstrated how to operate the telephone and then did it under her supervision.
‘That’s right, bach.’
Amy felt excited as she heard the phone ringing in the hall at home.
‘Amy!’ Her mother was laughing with excitement and pleasure. ‘You’ve found a phone! Lovely to hear you like this. How are you?’ Amy laughed with her. ‘Everybody is well here and missing you. Pat and her mother came into the shop today. She’s going to be a bridesmaid to her cousin. I’m to make her a dress in lavender satin. Pat’s fine, she asked about you.’
The sound of her mother’s voice made the distance disappear. ‘No, everything is fine here. No, no bombs, no gas attack and not a German in sight.’
Amy heard the pips denoting that her the time was up. ‘Goodbye,’ she said as the line went dead. She was left alone in the kiosk feeling homesick, and wishing she had more pennies to ring her mother again and tell her how much she wanted to come back to her family and friends.
Autumn was advancing and everybody was trying to help the war effort. At school, the children were told the Germans would stop the ships bringing any more oranges to Britain. They were taken out of school and along the lanes to pick rose hips from the hedges.
‘Rose hips are full of vitamin C,’ Miss Cosgrove told them. ‘They will be made into rose-hip syrup for babies.’ She also encouraged them to take sixpence to school on Fridays to buy a National Savings stamp. Two pupils walked to the sub-post office at the farm to buy them. These they stuck into the book provided, until they had the fifteen shillings needed to buy a Savings Certificate. Amy understood they were doing their bit, lending their money to the government to spend on tanks and guns to fight the enemy.
In the following weeks, the population was issued with ration books and identity cards, but everybody was amazed there were so few practical signs that Britain was at war. People had been told they must always carry their gas masks with them because a gas attack could come at any moment, but they soon gave up.
Amy’s classmates began to drift back to Merseyside because it was just as quiet there. Miss Cosgrove packed up and went and the evacuees that were left were absorbed into the body of the school.
Amy wrote to her mother and told her all this, and put it to her that she should return too. ‘I would like to,’ she wrote. ‘Here I have nobody to play with once I leave school. The farms and cottages are too spread out.’
She waited for a reply, fully expecting to be home and playing with Pat before much longer. It took Mum longer than usual to r
eply and when she did the answer was no.
We miss you very much and would love to have you back. But Pa and I think it would be wiser for you to stay where you are now you have settled in. We are thinking of your safety Amy. Auntie Bessie and Uncle Jack are very good to take you into their home and you should do your best to show you appreciate their kindness.
Amy felt pangs of disappointment but she got over it and began to settle down. Soon she was the only evacuee left and was put into the main class at school, with boys and girls ranging in age from seven to fourteen. They left to start work once they turned fourteen.
Amy sat at a well-scarred desk that accommodated four pupils. There were two open fires in the classroom that were lit from October to April. The boys were responsible for collecting morning sticks from the woods behind the chapel and also for bringing in the coal.
She was being taught now by Mrs Myfanwy Roberts, the schoolmistress in charge, who had her desk directly in front of one fire. She was well past middle age, a widow with two grown-up children who no longer lived at home. She wore printed smocks over dresses that Mum would consider smart. She was a good-looking woman with strong features and iron-grey hair drawn into a bun at the back of her neck. Behind her rimless glasses her dark eyes were as sharp as needles and missed nothing.
A position close to the other fire in the corner was highly prized by the girls who were grouped together on that side of the room. The best places went to the oldest and strongest, but they all put their sauce bottles full of milk close to the fire to warm by mid-morning.
Mrs Roberts was a disciplinarian, she bustled rather than walked and her Cuban heels beat a loud tattoo on the wooden floor. She had zero tolerance for talking in class, passing notes, or eating sweets. A biblical picture hung over her fireplace and she kept a cane tucked behind it with the handle in full view. Any sign of restlessness in class and the cane would be taken out in readiness and the slightest whisper after that would cause Mrs Roberts to rap it impatiently on her desk. It took very little more for the perpetrator to be called forward to receive punishment. One slap across each hand was considered the lighter sentence; it could be several strokes across the legs.
