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(This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from Three Counties Action on behalf of Betty Goodwin and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Goodwin fully understands the site's terms and conditions).

Children were allowed to have time off school to go potato setting and later in the year potato picking. I always volunteered. It was two or three week at a time, you got six pence (5p) an hour for setting and five pennies an hour for picking the potatoes up. That is where I got the idea I wanted to go into the Land Army, I did in 1947 but the war over then but farmers were still very short of workers.

I was not all work though. I went to tap dancing classes held in the village hall once a week. They put on shows ever so often, with other performers some groups came from other villages the ones that played the Accordion took my attention I thought they were wonderful. Once I was little Boy Blue I wore a pair of Mrs East blue bloomers for trouser I thought I looked good. Another time a girl and me sang and danced to “I’ve got six ounces to last me all my life”, the other girls dad had said, he would give her six pence if she did it well, she got her six pence. Then I was one of the “ten pretty girls at the village school” an old song all went well with it till we went to Rugby one Sunday. They were putting a big show on for the troops right from the start all I wanted to do was go home but we had to wait till the end of the show, to all go on the stage. It was snowing hard and had been snowing all the time we had been in the cinema. They had a job to get us home the snow was in drifts. Once we got to the village I had a job to get to the cottage it was nearly eleven o’clock. Mrs East was so cross, I suppose she was worried I know now how she must have felt after waiting up for my children to come in, but I never went dancing again.

The forge was next to the cottage. I love watching blacksmiths shoeing their horses. I went to Dorothy Pugh’s home sometimes, her dad was the village Postman. They had a small holding just outside the village, she had three younger sisters, her mum worked hard on top of running the home, she milked four cows, feed pigs, chickens and ducks. They had a donkey, two dogs and I don’t know how many cats, they seemed to look after their selves, and oh they had a horse! Their dad always had him working out in the fields, they were busy people. They always sat down together for meals and talked to you like they would to grown ups. The only time I wasn’t allowed to talk was when Dorothy was practicing her piano playing.

I went there to play, but we where always doing little jobs that Mrs Pugh made seem like play. We would all go looking for chicken or duck eggs, some chicken used to pick some funny places to lay their eggs only some went into the chicken shed and laid the eggs in the nest boxes. We put straw in their boxes, get straw to go in the pig’s shed; they did not have a pigsty. We all took turns turning the handle when she was churning the butter. Even to bring wood in for the fire or water from the pump to laying the table was funny they were a happy family.

Mrs East had a big cat Minn, she was not used to children. She slept by the range all day and went out every night hunting for her own food She always brought part of what she had caught and left it by the back door, mostly small rabbit. She had a kitten sometimes and one had two, I never found out till the last year I was there that she did have more kitten every time but Mrs East only saved the ones she had a home for. Minn got used to me and sat on my lap sometimes but did not like a lot of fuss made of her, she used to have lovely kittens.

We were only ten miles from Coventry, the village got it bad, when the Germans bombed Coventry the Working Men’s Club got hit, two men were killed one of them had came out from Coventry for the night. The doctor’s house was hit, bombs dropped all round. Mrs East and I used to sit in the cupboard under the stairs, when the siren went off some nights Mr Baker would come across to see if we were all right, he thought we looked funny sitting there, he told mum so, she was always laughing about it she never came and got us. She was all right they had a big cellar in the schoolhouse. One night when it was very bad the blacksmith’s son came and got us. I slept under the table with their children and Doreen Clark, their evacuee, we went there for the next two nights, then Mrs East’s son George came and took us to Bilton, and they had an Anderson shelter. When we got back to the village all the rubble had been cleared away, and the buildings next to those that were bombed were all shored up.

I have said before that I wish my mother had not come with us, she was the only mum to go, Every time she went home I used to wish that she would stop there, I was not being nasty I will try and explain why.

I hardly ever saw her though she was only across the road all so I thought if she went home the village people would stop talking about her. My god did she give them plenty to talk about! I thought it was Mr Baker’s fault I did not like him, I thought he was the devil in disguise, We were told at Chapel about the devil coming in disguise, he had two carved statues of devils in his hall I thought he must be making mum do these things and act the way she was, not for one moment did I think that she was a willing partner, Mr Baker was a slim built, and about 5ft 4inc tall. He always wore knicker bockers and a grin on this face, he had the silliest laugh you ever heard. But mum said he reminded her of little Boy Blue, I never ever dare tell her what I thought he was. He was a wood teacher and a lay preacher, he went to Wales and the Lake District walking in the school holidays, he gave me a Welsh doll once, I was not pleased with it, I later gave it to Sylvie.

Back to mother; Mrs East always said “have you seen your Mother this week” or “when did you last see your Mother” sometimes “your mother wants to see you”. First the villagers talked about her high heels and short skirts then the way she made herself up to the teachers; “she does not show any interest in her children why is she down here? You would think she would take Betty over to the school house bath nights, she doesn’t come and give you a hand or offer to do Betty's washing for you, she walks to Rugby to meet him”.

When Mrs East had German Measles her daughter in-law Gladys came to look after us there were four of us in that little bedroom not once did mother come across to see if she could do anything or offer to have me no she was always out somewhere.

It was not just Mr Baker there were others but the one that shook the village the most was the Italian; they called them Ities they wore khaki uniforms with a big red circle on the back.

Mother used to meet one in the square, go off walking with him. I don’t know where they went but I bet someone in the village did. The village had a field day when mother had Michael. Mr Baker paid for her to go into a nursing home in Rugby he was Michael’s father. I had been told that I had a new brother, I was not too pleased since the day that I went to bed without cocoa I had been hoping to myself that the secret baby the one all the whispering was about would be a sister. Even his baptism was a secret, one day in the week at the Chapel attended by Mother, Mr Baker and Mr Adkinson the minister, a few people asked me if I went, knowing full well I had not gone.

The Sunday they came home, I was at Bilton, so when I got back Mrs East said your Mother is home with the bay you had better go across and see your new brother, it was Sunday evening Mrs Baker would be at Chapel playing the Organ, Mr Baker would be somewhere. So I hurried over, we went in the back way, opened the back door and called Mum, she never did answer till after several calls, if Mr Baker was home she came out of the front room but most times out of his study, if Mrs Baker was in mum would be doing something or come out of her bedroom as she did on this occasion. I was half way up the very wide staircase when she came out like her clumps, if she could say something to hurt you she would. She stood there, there was no hello Betty no kiss or cuddle. I don’t know when I had last seen her she said, “what do you want?” “I have come to see the baby”, she aid “you can’t you wanted a sister” turning to go down the stairs, I wondered who had told her? I was near the bottom of the stairs when she said “you had better come and see him now you are here before you go crying to Mrs East” I shot up those stairs before she changed her mind. Well I might have known darling Bob was there grinning holding our new brother. I suppose I did look at him but the joy of it had been knocked away.

Dad came down sometimes it must have been arranged with mum because it was always when Mr and Mrs Baker went away together, yet mum never told me when he was coming. Once I was at Bilton and they were going to visit someone in Kenilworth we were at the bus stop in Rugby when I saw dad on the other side of the road, George and Gladys called him over. I was given the choice to go with dad or them, I chose Kenilworth because I did not want to listen to more rows. Dad said it was best and I would see him on Sunday the next day. Every time there was a row dad used to walk me back to Mrs East, he used to say don’t tell Mrs East.

It was like that with letters, mum never said when she had a letter from home. I could not write and tell them what I was doing; I don’t suppose mum ever told them. Bob could have wrote, but I don’t think he ever did, he was a good scholar, passed the eleven year old exam with top marks, the school board wanted him to go to a grammar school in Northampton, he would have to go and live there, mum would not let him go, that would be one less excuse to keep her in Dunchurch. It was not as though he was settled in Dunchurch, he had six different billets.

Mum, Michael and I went back home when I was thirteen, we were not back long when mum went with Michael to Carnborne in Cornwall to her sister Irene for a few weeks. Then not long after they got back the doodlebugs started so we went back to Dunchurch.

This time I stayed at the Bakers but they had a house full with Mr Baker’s dad, sister Nora, her son and two daughters, sister Mary with son Austin (her husband had been killed in Gibraltar) Mr Bakers brothers and son Paul. They had put up with the London Blitz but could not stand the doodlebugs. Poor Mrs Baker, no wonder she spent all her spare time playing the organ at the Chapel even in the dark. Nora’s husband was a Japanese prisoner of war. When we meet after I was married he knew my husband Harold. They were in the same Japanese camp on the Island of Okinawa.

I never held anything against mum, I would do anything for her attention, she did use me but we seemed to get on quiet sell after I was married until one day my sons got into trouble and she called me a wicked mother. That did it! My god did I let her have it; all that had been bottled up in me for years. I never saw her for three years and can honestly say that I wish I had never renewed our relationship.

Apart from my poor education I wish I had been stronger minded when you have not spoken up for yourself you can not think of a quick answer, the time I do it seems to late to say it, this has caused me a lot of pain and frustration.

When we first came back to Dunchuch mum had gone to Cornwall. Dad used to ask me to get some things from the shops nearly every day. One day he gave me 5 shillings to get quiet a few things, I was brought up by Mrs East to account for every penny so after shopping I made a list of what I had got, with the price next to it so dad could see where the money had gone, when he saw it he laughed so much he cried and sat in a chair, it was the way that I had spelt everything. I swore to myself there and then that no one would laugh at my writing again, it was hard work and it got me into a lot of trouble at times. I could read some small words but when you can't read the next word you get the wrong meaning to it.

I was a great picture goer, I used to buy “Picturegoer” and all film magazines, along with “Red Letter”, “Red Star” and “Love Letters” (one and a half penny magazines). I improved my reading with them but writing was a frustrating affair.

I lost touch with a lot of good friends because it took me so long to write one page or even a post card, then I was not sure if I had spelt the words right so found it better to give up writing to them, no one knew I had a telephone in those days.

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