I wrote this account of my evacuation for my granddaughter in September 1999 when 60 years since the start of World War Two was being remembered in her school. I hope that it will be of interest.
Yours sincerely,
Veronica Allen, (née Martin).
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My Being Evacuated
by
Mrs. Veronica Allen.
On the 3rd. September 1939, I had been to Mass at St. Theresa's Church, Sutton Manor, St Helens, in then Lancashire now Merseyside.
I can't remember who was with me as I walked home to Clock Face, but I remember, very clearly, being met by my father in front of the Co-op Stores by Clock Face Railway Bridge. He told me that war had been declared at 11-o-clock.
I was eleven years old and was about to go to a new school in Liverpool. The name of the school was Broughton Hall, Convent of Mercy. I was very excited about starting this new school because it was set in beautiful grounds with rhododendron bushes and other blossoms surrounding a lake.
On Wednesday the 6th September I found myself in my lovely new uniform, clutching my gas mask, boarding a train with many, many children who were all complete strangers to me. I can't remember very much about the journey. I was too upset at leaving my family behind.
My next memory is of a large playground and tables covered with glasses filled with orange juice. It was a very hot day and the rims of the glasses were covered with wasps.
We had arrived at an orphanage in Pantasaph, North Wales that was to become our school. We had been sent away from Liverpool because of the fear of air raids on the main cities. There were many people there, and the children had to be sorted into groups. I was taken with another girl of my age, named Mary McLeod, who was from Liverpool and put in the care of Mr. & Mrs. Williams.
Mary and I were taken to their home. They lived in a semi-detached house in a place called Park Drive, which was quite a steep hill. Later we found out that the local people called it Jerusalem because so many Jewish people were living there. Perhaps they were business people who had left the cities.
Mr. & Mrs. Williams soon became Uncle Ken and Auntie Mair (pronounced Mire). They had a baby girl, who was aged one, and named Eluned. They were very kind to Mary and me but I was too homesick to be happy. Mary didn't seem to mind being away from home, so I thought that she was very brave and that I must be soft.
On the Sunday after we had arrived, a car drew up outside the house and out stepped my mother. I couldn't believe it, because she hadn't written to say that she was coming, and, of course, in those days very few people had a phone. A family friend had brought her in his car. I was so excited and happy until it was time for them to leave. I can't describe the pain I felt after my mother had gone. I never stopped feeling that pain all the time I was away from home.
From the kitchen window we could see across the River Dee, and on a clear day we could see the Liver Building in Liverpool. I must have spent hours gazing at that beautiful building because it represented home to me. Auntie Mair and Uncle Ken tried their best to console me. They treated Mary and me as if we were their own children, and looking back I must have been a real worry to them.
We had to walk to school and it was quite a distance. We made our way through a dense wood, up a hill and down a hill covered with yellow gorse, and passed the Franciscan Monastery on our right, crossed the road and into the orphanage. Many of the pupils lived in the orphanage as well as attending school there. I can't remember much about the lessons, but I do remember services at the monastery and doing the "Stations of the Cross" up a hill to a crucifix at the top, which was called Calvary.
My most vivid memories are of journeys to and from school. Most mornings a magpie met us, which was very tame. One morning it flew off with my rosary case. Auntie Mair was a very good cook, but every Thursday she cooked something that made me feel sick. It was potatoes and turnips mashed together. On the way home from school I couldn't think of anything but that dreaded mixture. I couldn't hurt her feelings by telling her that I did not like it, so I had to suffer it every Thursday, almost being sick at every mouthful. Probably I would enjoy it now. I must try it or test it on my grandchildren!
Every week my grandma sent a parcel of goodies, which always included a slab of Holland Toffee. I was so terribly homesick that I wrote a letter saying that if they did not come to take me home, I would run away. By return post I received a parcel containing a pair of Wellingtons, biscuits and the usual Holland Toffee, plus a letter telling me to be a good girl. Was I a bad girl because I wanted to be home with my family?
Uncle Ken had a younger brother named Edgar. He used to take us into the wood to collect conkers, so that we could play a game with conkers on a string. When the snow came it was very exciting. I told you that Park Drive was a steep hill and we had races on sledges. I will never forget sliding down Jerusalem!
Christmas was coming and we were going home. Imagine the excitement! North Wales was very beautiful, but not as beautiful as heaven, which Clock Face meant to me.
Whilst we were in Wales there had not been one air raid on Liverpool, so it was decided that we would return to school at Broughton Hall. Later there were many air raids on Liverpool, but we were never again evacuated. I found the air raids exciting. When the siren sounded, we were rushed into the underground tunnels, which we called the catacombs. Instead of lessons we had concerts, and entertained each other. Our French teacher translated many of the popular songs into French, which was a very enjoyable way of learning this new language. At the tops of our voices we sang the French National Anthem, the British National Anthem (God Save The King)
and many more of our favourites. If the Germans could have heard us, they would have flown back thinking that they had lost their way.
I liked to sing 'Ave Maria' and 'The Holy City' because I really did like them, but my friend, Ann Ellis, was stopped in mid-flow by a shocked Sister Mary Gabriel, when she sang her version of the very popular song 'Jealousy' swaying her hips to the tango rhythm. Actually, Ann was very talented and played the piano accordion with great skill.
After we had left Wales, I never met Mary McLeod again. She never came to Broughton Hall. Perhaps the family had moved to another part of the country. I did meet Uncle Ken again about twenty years later. I was married with three children and during a visit to Wales we called at Park Drive. They no longer lived there. Uncle Ken had been a coal-merchant, and we were told that he had moved to Holywell, which was the nearest town. We found the address and Uncle Ken came to the door. It must have been quite a shock for him, especially as we had a friend with us who was a priest! Auntie Mair was not at home, so I never met her nor Eluned again.
Last year I went back to Pantasaph with my brother, my sister and her husband to show them where I had lived and gone to school all those years ago. The orphanage was empty and in ruins. It was very sad to see. The monastery was busy with visitors. We walked by the side of the monastery and up the hill, but everywhere seemed different. I didn't even see a magpie.
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