Those Frightening Years Part 2

Back to the little Church of England school we both went and slipped back into country life. Still being only 11 or more and considering all that had happened to us, I seemed to have pushed all the bad things into the back of my mind and started life anew with my country friends.

We stayed on in Bridgnorth until VE Day in June 1945. I had become part of the community by then and was partaking in all types of theatricals and sport.

The day VE was announced, the whole village rejoiced. Street parties were held and everybody went mad. Outside the village was an RAF camp, housing American airmen who were training to take part in the war. They all invaded the village that night and all joined hands with the locals around the Town Hall, which was situated in the middle of the road, and sang and sang, drank and drank, and let their hair down after all the years of being restrained. My uncle’s pub was full of joy, drinks flowed, eats were eaten and people were able to breathe again.

Of course, what it meant for us was different. Now that the war on Britain was over, we had to return to London. But what to? We didn’t know. I was very sad; it meant leaving the life I had become attached to and all the friends I had made.

Nevertheless, back we had to go. By this time the Council had allocated us a maisonette (an upstairs flat with an upstairs of bedrooms, bathroom and toilet) in quite a nice area of Tooting. No garden, but plenty of bushes and shrubs in a concrete area outside; nothing like the little semi with the garden and lilac tree that we had before all this started. Just as well mum had a job now, because it was costly to start refurnishing it, but by hook or by crook she did just that.

Today my mother is still alive, having never remarried, and is in her 102nd year. She has had a few minor strokes and is currently in a wheelchair. Her mind is still as active as ever and she remembers every little thing that I have told you in this, our story.

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