Memoir

I am now sitting in a care home at the age of 70, in London near Big Ben. As he strikes one all my tragic memories from World War Two fly back to me. I am writing now, I am beginning to shake more.  Then the nurse comes in to bring me my morning cup of tepid tea. I am beginning to think how my parents would feel if they lost me. I am wondering if it was the same feeling as when I lost them. I have a little metal plate with their names engraved into it, William and Elisabeth Bedford.

The first bomb dropped in 1939 , when I was just six years old and my sister was just twelve months of age. I could just hear my mam crying and hugging my sister and me…I was trying not to cry with her, but they just rolled down my face. The all clear siren went off. My mam and dad went off to the corner of the Anderson  shelter whispering. Then they approached me and my sister to tell us we were going to be evacuated…to New York. 

At that moment my breath disappeared for seconds. We went back into the house, luckily everything was just fine.  I had to start packing my stuff.  I was leaving next day. Tears dropped out of my eyes before I went to sleep.  I fell into brutal dreams.

On the ferry to New York I made no friends, I just wanted to go home. BUT WAIT! I didn’t know how long I was going to stay in New York for. Carrying my sister in my arms, I asked a sea-sick young boy who was standing next to me and he said he was there for two months or more, but he didn’t know about me. A tall, wobbly lady was walking around the deck and I asked the same question. She whispered in my ear, “Two months or forever.” I was beginning to get worried.

BOOM! The ferry banged to a halt. We were in New York City and we were safe. I never knew if my mam and dad would still be alive back in Britain.

Many, many months later, it was dinner time, but I was not getting much. I didn’t feel like eating.  But my sister ate everything!  Later in the day, it was 2pm and I was sitting on my bed crying for my family. Then a pretty lady in pink passed by and said, “You are leaving tomorrow.” I started jumping and dancing around. My sister didn’t know what was happening.  She just watched me, confused. The next morning I got back on the ferry, my sister walking beside me. As soon as I got on, I started crying for joy. I was going home! I was actually going home! 

Now  those memories suddenly stop.  But they will always be with me.  Forever.

By Sophia and Fatma (Yr6)