washed out her underclothes and hung them out of the window, so that they’d be dry by morning. She checked the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She wasn’t glad or sorry to leave. It was just a room she’d been lent. It had never really felt like her own.
Before she went to bed, she wrote a note to Mr. and Mrs. Abercrombie Jones to leave on the hall table in the morning:
31 August, 1939
Dear Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey,
Thank you for taking me into your home, and for the half crown. I have learnt a lot here. I am grateful.
Yours sincerely,
Marianne Kohn
She read it over. Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey had done the best they could. They didn’t know about children, and they thought being foreign was something to be got over, like measles. They probably wouldn’t see each other again.
In the morning, she shook hands with Gladys. “Thank you, Gladys. One day I might ride on your bus. I hope so.”
“Good luck, Mary Anne.” Gladys patted Marianne’s shoulder awkwardly, and handed her a big lunch bag.
On the way to school the postman stopped her. “Off to the country, are you? My lad’s going too. You’ve got a card today. Glad I didn’t miss you.” He rummaged in his bag and handed Marianne a plain white card. It was written in pencil, which had faded a bit. It said:
Dear Marianne,
I love you. Remember me.
Vati
Marianne put the card in her shoulder bag. Her father seemed very close to her at that moment. It felt almost as if he were walking beside her, reminding her to be brave.
“Postie,” Marianne called. “Thank you very much. Good-bye.”
Her suitcase felt much lighter. She wished she could tell Bridget she’d heard from her father.
• 17 •
Evacuation
I t was strange being in the school’s assembly hall so early. Every girl’s eyes were riveted on the headmistress. Miss Lacey led the school in prayers for a safe journey, then she said: “The next time we talk to one another as a school, we will be in a strange hall, in someone else’s building. None of us know when we will be back here in St. John’s, or even if our school will still be standing after the war. We are setting off on the biggest adventure of our lives, and like our brave soldiers, sailors, and airmen, we do not know where we are going or what awaits us. We do know that homes will be provided for us in places of safety.
“I am proud that our school is part of the greatest exodus from the city that has ever happened. Be good ambassadors wherever you go, so that the generous people who are opening their homes to us will be glad that they have done so.”
The girls filed back to their classrooms in total silence to thestrains of the organ playing “Land of Hope and Glory,” The music had never sounded more eloquent.
When Miss Barry handed out luggage labels, Marianne’s hand shook. It was only nine months since she had worn one of those. Everyone in class had to print their names, and that of their school on one. Then they tied the labels round their necks with bits of string. A girl put up her hand and said, “We’re not likely to forget our names. Do we have to wear these?”
“Yes. In the event of an accident, that label may be an important means of identification,” said Miss Barry.
No one spoke another word after that.
Miss Barry smiled and said, “Time to read one more chapter.” She opened
The Railway Children
and continued reading to the class. They’d reached the part where the rock falls on the railway line, and Peter, Bobbie, and Phyllis have to find a way to stop the 11:29 A.M. train from hurtling off the track.
The bell rang.
“That means the buses are here,” said Miss Barry. “I’ll take the book with me and once school recommences after the holidays and we are settled in our new classroom, I shall finish the story. You may line up and walk to the gates, and remember Miss Lacey’s words: ‘Be good ambassadors wherever you go’ … and don’t forget to bring your
Before she went to bed, she wrote a note to Mr. and Mrs. Abercrombie Jones to leave on the hall table in the morning:
31 August, 1939
Dear Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey,
Thank you for taking me into your home, and for the half crown. I have learnt a lot here. I am grateful.
Yours sincerely,
Marianne Kohn
She read it over. Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey had done the best they could. They didn’t know about children, and they thought being foreign was something to be got over, like measles. They probably wouldn’t see each other again.
In the morning, she shook hands with Gladys. “Thank you, Gladys. One day I might ride on your bus. I hope so.”
“Good luck, Mary Anne.” Gladys patted Marianne’s shoulder awkwardly, and handed her a big lunch bag.
On the way to school the postman stopped her. “Off to the country, are you? My lad’s going too. You’ve got a card today. Glad I didn’t miss you.” He rummaged in his bag and handed Marianne a plain white card. It was written in pencil, which had faded a bit. It said:
Dear Marianne,
I love you. Remember me.
Vati
Marianne put the card in her shoulder bag. Her father seemed very close to her at that moment. It felt almost as if he were walking beside her, reminding her to be brave.
“Postie,” Marianne called. “Thank you very much. Good-bye.”
Her suitcase felt much lighter. She wished she could tell Bridget she’d heard from her father.
• 17 •
Evacuation
I t was strange being in the school’s assembly hall so early. Every girl’s eyes were riveted on the headmistress. Miss Lacey led the school in prayers for a safe journey, then she said: “The next time we talk to one another as a school, we will be in a strange hall, in someone else’s building. None of us know when we will be back here in St. John’s, or even if our school will still be standing after the war. We are setting off on the biggest adventure of our lives, and like our brave soldiers, sailors, and airmen, we do not know where we are going or what awaits us. We do know that homes will be provided for us in places of safety.
“I am proud that our school is part of the greatest exodus from the city that has ever happened. Be good ambassadors wherever you go, so that the generous people who are opening their homes to us will be glad that they have done so.”
The girls filed back to their classrooms in total silence to thestrains of the organ playing “Land of Hope and Glory,” The music had never sounded more eloquent.
When Miss Barry handed out luggage labels, Marianne’s hand shook. It was only nine months since she had worn one of those. Everyone in class had to print their names, and that of their school on one. Then they tied the labels round their necks with bits of string. A girl put up her hand and said, “We’re not likely to forget our names. Do we have to wear these?”
“Yes. In the event of an accident, that label may be an important means of identification,” said Miss Barry.
No one spoke another word after that.
Miss Barry smiled and said, “Time to read one more chapter.” She opened
The Railway Children
and continued reading to the class. They’d reached the part where the rock falls on the railway line, and Peter, Bobbie, and Phyllis have to find a way to stop the 11:29 A.M. train from hurtling off the track.
The bell rang.
“That means the buses are here,” said Miss Barry. “I’ll take the book with me and once school recommences after the holidays and we are settled in our new classroom, I shall finish the story. You may line up and walk to the gates, and remember Miss Lacey’s words: ‘Be good ambassadors wherever you go’ … and don’t forget to bring your
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