The Evacuee Christmas. Katie King

felt for Fishy beside him, and then he realised that perhaps it was Fishy’s hasty exit that had led to Connie making such a noise.

      The twins looked at each other and then across at Peggy, but she didn’t so much as break the rhythm of her stentorious breathing, she was still so soundly asleep.

      So much for he and Connie having to creep around in case they woke her unnecessarily, Jessie thought as he sat up, stretched loudly and wildly, and then slipped his feet to the floor.

      Barbara had planned a lavish breakfast spread of bacon, eggs and fried bread for everyone so that at least she knew they’d all be well set up for the day.

      Needless to say, their late start meant that by the time everyone was dressed and downstairs, and Fishy was giving a cry that was definitely announcing it was high time for her breakfast, it was already ten to eight. And so the best Barbara could hurriedly prepare was tea and toast, and as they ate she made everyone cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch that she hurriedly slapped together before she wrapped the sandwiches more carefully in waxed paper. Then they all got ready to walk together over to St Mark’s Primary School, Ted announcing that he’d go to work once he had seen the children were safely delivered to the school and had everything they needed.

      ‘And you’ve got to say goodbye to us, Daddy,’ Connie reminded him, her small voice a far cry from how she spoke ordinarily; it made both of her parents recall when she had been a tiny girl. Connie added, ‘We couldn’t go away with the school if you hadn’t said goodbye to us properly, could we, Jessie?’

      Both Ted and Barbara felt a lump rising to their throats. Connie had inadvertently touched a raw nerve.

      ‘Look sharp, you two – but before we leave, let’s go through Mr Jones’s list one last time,’ said Peggy to the twins as they all put on their coats, seeing their parents needed a moment or two to compose themselves.

      Ted meanwhile pressed on Peggy two £5 notes, so that she could dole out some pocket money to the children if she found herself billeted near to them, plus, he said, she’d have plenty over if they – or Peggy – needed anything that nobody so far had thought of, Peggy promising without being asked that she would keep a detailed account of what she spent on Jessie and Connie, and that she would return the money unspent if she were billeted somewhere else that was too far from the children for her to have much contact. This really was a significant sum and Peggy knew that Ted and Barbara could ill afford to waste it.

      At last the little cavalcade was ready to set off, with Fishy keeping watch on them from an upstairs window. Everyone was clutching their gas masks in their brand-new cardboard boxes that had twine attached ready for the mask’s owner to loop over a shoulder, and after a little tussle with Peggy, Ted and Barbara manhandling between them the three items of luggage along the road.

      As Jessie and Connie headed down Jubilee Street in the direction of school, the twins were reminded forcibly that it might be quite some time before they saw these familiar houses again.

      Connie briefly slid her hand into Jessie’s, and announced, ‘I can’t believe it but I feel homesick already, when I haven’t yet gone. They are ugly old houses, I’m sure, but I know every one.’

      Not one of them could think of what they should say back to Connie and so nobody said anything for a while, although Barbara made sure that she smiled comfortingly at Jessie to let him know that she realised that he’d also be finding the whole experience very strange even though he was keeping quiet.

      As they walked along they saw families similarly heading to the school, although with none of the boisterous behaviour or whoops of laughter that normally denoted south-east London family outings. The children gave minute half-smiles in the direction of their pals, while the adults accompanying them nodded sombrely at their opposite numbers.

      When they got close to St Mark’s, it was to see the unusual sight of four single-decker coaches already parked up in the road outside the playground, the drivers wearing matching peaked caps and standing together as they chatted, all the while taking deep drags on Senior Service unfiltered cigarettes.

      ‘Peggy, you go and report to Susanne, who’ll be most pleased to see you I don’t doubt, seeing the scrum that’s here already, and I’ll look after your handbag and suitcase while you sort yourself out,’ said Barbara, as she looked at those milling across the playground, and then indicated to her sister where she and Ted would be waiting with the children.

      It wasn’t long before Peggy threaded her way back to her sister across the now-heaving playground as in the time she had been gone the mass of people gathered squashily in its confines had doubled.

      Peggy reported that she and Connie and Jessie were all designated to the final coach, and this meant that they weren’t due to leave the school until eleven o’clock.

      ‘Mr Jones is going to ask all the parents to go in a minute as he thinks the children will start getting upset if their mothers and fathers stay too long,’ she told Barbara and Ted, followed by, ‘and Ted, you need to put our luggage over by the wall where that “4” has been chalked as this is the mark for those going in the last bus. It means our luggage will go on the same bus to the station that we also travel on. Then you both had better start saying your goodbyes, and after that the teachers and me shall take it from there.’

      The schoolchildren of St Mark’s, in general, whether they be small five-year-olds or old-timers of eleven years of age, took the actual leave-taking in a much more stoical manner than many of the parents managed, as they said their goodbyes and took their final hugs (or, in the case of some of the sons and fathers, contented themselves merely with a brusque downwards pump of the hand). Most mothers and one or two of the fathers too had hankies out, and many weren’t at all embarrassed to be seen allowing the tears to flow freely.

      Jessie and Connie kept the proverbial stiff upper lip, as Barbara leant down to tie to their coat buttonholes big parcel labels that matched the labels already attached to their luggage that had in large capital letters their name, their London address and the name of their school, and then she made sure that they each had a pencil stub in their pocket so that once they knew where they were going they could write that too in the space below Barbara’s writing.

      ‘Now, you take care of each other, an’ remember to be ’onest and polite to the people you are going to meet,’ said Ted. ‘An’ work ’ard at school, and don’t shirk on any errands or odd jobs around the ’ouse the people lookin’ after yer ask of yer both. Eat up everything they give you – there’s to be no leavin’ of anyfing or sayin’ yer don’t like it, mind.’

      ‘Send us a note the very minute you know where you are, and me and your dad will write back,’ added Barbara. ‘And do try to stick together in order that you are billeted together, remember. Hold hands when people come in to look at you, and try very hard not to take no for an answer if anyone tries to say that you can’t stay together. Have you understood, Connie and Jessie? It really is very important that you do.’

      Connie and Jessie each gave their mother a look which implied that Barbara’s last instruction would obviously go without saying.

      ‘And remember that I’ve written letters for whoever takes you in, so don’t forget to hand those over,’ Barbara went on huskily, as she dabbed now beneath her eyes with a pressed and folded hanky.

      The children were hugged tightly, as was Peggy, and when Barbara and Ted turned just before they headed out the school gate to the playground to give a final wave, it was to the reassuring sight that the twins were standing side by side, looking united and determined, their auntie standing behind them as she rested a hand on each of their shoulders.

      ‘Look after Fishy,’ called Connie. ‘She can do our errands for you with us gone!’

      ‘Do you think our Jessie has grown a little?’ said Barbara, once she and Ted had got to the end of the street, and she had dried her eyes and put her handkerchief back in her handbag. ‘For a moment, I fancied he was looking as if he has.’

      Ted still didn’t trust himself to speak, but he nodded and then