Kitty Baxter - Ill Take That One: An Evacuees Childhood

They were both in bed, almost asleep Mary clutching a bundle of bedclothes in case I need to turn around, Hetty pulling the bedclothes from the other side. Then there was me, the youngest, aged six, sleeping in the middle, unable to move, almost strangled by the tight bedcovers.

The lamp outside our window shone through the crack between the flowery curtains and into the tiny bedroom I shared with my sisters: Hetty, aged eleven, and Mary, aged nine. The walls of our bedroom were painted white and the floor was covered with a pink-and-blue linoleum that matched the curtains. Beside the bed was a single, dark wooden wardrobe and on the other side there was a small dressing table and a tiny chest of drawers.

Although our bedroom was cosy, there was no heating, and in the winter we made sure we always got into bed quickly to keep warm. Climbing out of the bed, on the other hand, proved a bit more of a challenge as sharing the bed with my sisters meant it was my bad luck to have to sleep in the middle.

Knowing this particular day was going to be special, even before opening my eyes, I carefully crawled to the bottom of the bed and managed to get out without disturbing them. It was still grey outside and there was a gentle breeze.

What are you doing up already, Kitty? Mum called from the other bedroom. Its only four oclock get back to bed! Grudgingly, I returned to the end of the bed, sitting bolt upright, until I heard Mums familiar call: Whos ready for a cup of tea? Shed just returned from her early morning cleaning job; Dad was already at work and would return in the early afternoon. Tea? Tea? I wasnt interested in tea, having been waiting for months for this special outing.

Shut up, all of you Im trying to sleep! Hetty shouted as she turned on her side, pulling all the covers off Mary, who had taken advantage of the space Id left, and was now sleeping next to her.

What are you doing? Im freezing I hate you! shouted Mary, as she tugged at the bedcovers from the other side, simultaneously prodding Hettys back with her elbow.

I dont care and I hate you! Hetty replied.

If you two dont stop, you wont be going out! Mum shouted. This was the first argument of the day, but there was nothing unusual about it. Outside the flat and at school, Hetty and Mary were very protective of each other. All three of us had planned to meet up with Hettys friends at the tram stop at eight oclock that morning, but with Hetty and Mary still arguing, the likelihood of this happening was dwindling.

Leaving them to it, I wandered into the kitchen where Mum had prepared a huge plate of thick, hot buttered toast, which shed placed on top of the green-and-white gingham tablecloth. Even the sight and smell of the toast couldnt tempt me. I was far too excited.

I could see through the kitchen door that Mary was now dressed and gazing into the dressing table mirror, admiring her curly blonde hair. I was willing her to hurry up, but at the same time admiring her prettiness and wishing my hair was just like hers.

How much longer will they be? I asked Mum.

Try to be patient otherwise they might not take you, she said, patting my head.

I dont want to go and meet up with Hettys stuck-up friends anyway! shouted Mary from the bedroom.

Hetty had, by this time, also managed to drag herself out of bed and was now ready to leave. Having been awake since four oclock, I felt that my sisters were deliberately trying to make me wait longer.

Hurry up, you two. Ive got enough work to do without you slowing me down. Now get your coats on and make sure you take care of Kitty, Mum called.

Reluctantly, Mary grabbed hold of my arm as we walked to our front door. Mum stopped fussing and gave us each a paper bag containing sandwiches for our lunch. She also handed Hetty a bag of clothes.

If you dont stop jumping about, Im not taking you, said Hetty to me. Being the eldest child in our family, Hetty always had the last say. Mum relied on her quite a lot, and we were never bullied or teased at school when she was around. Not having any idea where we were going that morning, I just felt happy to be going anywhere with my sisters and their friends.

Dont let go of her hand, Mum shouted to my sisters. I was wearing one of Marys dresses which shed outgrown, and looking very grown-up. The dress was pale blue, covered in tiny red flowers.

Why is Kitty wearing my dress? demanded Mary. Its my favourite. Mum told me to ignore her, giving my hand a little squeeze. I gave Mary a curtsy and ran off, grinning.

We walked along the side road, where there was a small shop. This was known to us as the Sweet Shop, although it sold almost everything groceries and newspapers, as well as sweets.

Come on, said Hetty. Mums given us sixpence to spend. You can have two pennies each. I was momentarily mesmerised by the colourful display of sweets, but my eyes were soon drawn to my favourites bullseyes and liquorice sticks. Hurry up, we cant be late! barked Hetty.

Little did we know how important this tiny shop would become to our family in the years to come. On the corner of the road was a pub Dad would escape to on a Saturday night for a beer with his friends and neighbours, after a heavy week cleaning the streets of the City of London. Wearing his best suit, he always looked so smart on this, his one night out. This small area was my world, where I was allowed to walk alone or meet up with my friends. These side streets were my playground and felt safe.

Eventually we reached the main road, busy with noisy traffic, including huge red trams leading to unknown places. It felt both exciting and frightening, so I clung onto Hettys arm. Now that Mary was certain she was well out of Mums view, she let go of my arm and walked on ahead of Hetty and me. We could see two girls waving to us.

Look, theres Joan and Polly! cried Hetty, wild with excitement. Polly ran towards me, smiling, and took hold of my hand. She was wearing a floral dress with a white frill around the bottom and she had a big white ribbon in her hair.

You stay with me, Kitty. Ill take care of you, she said, as we trailed behind everyone. Of all my sisters friends, Polly was my favourite. She bent down to give me a hug and by the look in my sisters eyes, it was clear they were glad to hand over my care to someone else. Polly was an only child and she loved to play mother to me.

We joined the long queue for our tram, which eventually came rattling noisily along the tracks in the road. Hetty held out her arm proudly to stop it and we all scrambled on.

Lets all go upstairs so well get a good view! shouted Hetty.

Hurry along, said the conductor, a tall thin man with a tired face. He had a smart peaked cap and wore an important-looking badge on his jacket. In his hand was a long strip of coloured tickets.

Fares please! he called out. We each paid our half-penny fare and in exchange were each given a tiny ticket. As we climbed up the stairs, I was still wondering where we were going but really didnt care too much. The journey was long but as wed managed to get seats at the front, we just sat entranced by the amazing busyness of London. People were running in all directions, everyone seeming to be in such a hurry, and we passed many tall buildings. Finally, Polly stood up. We all jumped off. She seemed very confident.

Weve a bit of a walk ahead of us, Polly said as she looked down at me, smiling and squeezing my hand. She always made me feel special. The next thing I noticed was an enormous golden statue, shining in the sun.