Evacuation

I was evacuatto Marton in Cleveland from Low Fell Gateshead at the very beginning of the war, along with my mother who went as a helper. There were six of us in a group and my mother had to look after us on the journey by train to Ormsby Station, near Marton. I remember that temporary toilets had been set up on the station - two or three compartments made of sacking, each containing a pail with a seat on. We were then taken to the village hall to be distributed to those who had offered to take children. I have a feeling we were also given a drink and a bun.

We were taken by a Mrs Dickie who had wanted six boys, but agreed to take my mother and her group of six girls. We arrived at what seemed to us to bea huge house with a large garden front and back, three storeys high and more rooms than we were ever used to. Mr Dickie was a retired surgeon who had gone back to hospital to relese younger men to join the forces - there was also a live-in maid and a cook who came in each morning about 6.0 am. We were very well treated; I slept in one room with my mother, Jean slept in another with Mrs Dickie, while Eva and Muriel slept in the day nursery and Edith and Evelyn slept in the night nursery. Mr Dickie had his own room and the maid had one of the rooms in the attics. We children lived in the kitchen most of the time, and ate there with the staff - my mother had her evening meal with Mr and Mrs Dickie after we were all in bed, and often sat with them in the evening. We were given a bath every night, a thing we were not used to - my mother would start with me, the youngest, then press the bell and up went the next girl. On hair washing nights the maid helped so that it got done much more quickly.

We were fed well, but not what we were used to. I remember Jean wanting to know why we could not have fish and chips - obviously a regular thing in her home! On Sundays we all had dinner in the dining room, and we children took it in turns to choose which china and glass was to be used, and which serviettes. I think this was their way of giving us some social training.

We were given 6d each pocket money from Mr Dickie each week - 2d had to go to was savings, and ld for sunday school collection then we had little notebooks to keep account of how we had spent the rest. These were checked each week.

I remember that at first we had lessons either in the Village Hall or if it was fine we went out to the park. Then I think some must have gone home, and the teachers too, since we went into the village school - a one-room affair, with the little ones at one end and the bigger children at the other. I remember being taught to knit on four needles, and knitting what I was told was an egg warmer!

Soon after we arrived it was the "conker" season and we all collected hundreds of these. We played with them, made furniture out of them with pins and wool, and refused to part with them. They began to smell, and the house was overrun. One of Mrs Dickie's sons was home, a retired missionary we called Father William, and he had the idea of persuading us to get rid of the conkers by having a burial service for them. The gardner was told to dig a big hole in a copse at the front gate, we all paraded solemnly down the drive with them in boxes and put them in the hole - Father William then said a prayer and we all sang "All things bright and beautiful" before the gardener covered them up. Jean and I went back a few years later and there was a whole host of chestnut trees growning in the copse - I wonder if they are still there

After Christmas Muriel took ill. The other son was home at the time - he was a doctor in one of the forces - and he quickly diagnosed Diptheria. Muriel was rushed off to hospital and much to our delight the rest of us were given two weeks off school. There had been a lot of snow, and the gardener had built a huge sledge for us all, so we had a grand "extra holiday" and did not want her to get getter. When she did her mother was worried about her and took her home.

Actually, being so close to Middlesbrough and the steel work, Marton was a poor placeto be evacuated to - we spent many hours under the stairs nearly every night during air raids. My mother decided I should go to Bellingham, and then found places for Jean and Edith as well, and the rest of the group went home.

I never lost touch with Mrs Dickie who continued to take a great interest in us all until the day she died. I feel that staying there had quite an influence on my life, and I really enjoyed it. I sometimes feel that I would like to go back to see what changes have been made to the village - perhaps some day!

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