Irene Wood: an evacuee during World War II

 

My mother, Irene, was born on the 9th of February 1928 at 32 Hanover Street, the home of her parents, Walter Wood and Ethel Lomas Wood. It was located off the once-vibrant Cross Lane in the City of Salford. The house was part of a long terrace of two-up and two down houses, typical of working-class dwellings in Britain's industrial cities. By modern standards, it would be considered unfit to live in. The front door opened onto the street, and the only 'greenery' to be seen was the moss growing between the cobblestones of the road. The house had no kitchen as we understand it, but a scullery, which contained a cold-water tap, the only source of water in the house, a stone sink and a small gas stove. There were no bathing facilities and the toilet was outside at the end of 'the yard'. The yard was walled and paved with flagstones, and was as wide as the house, that is, about twelve feet across. It contained a small makeshift coal bunker, the dustbin and a clothesline. The back door of the scullery opened onto the yard, which had its own wooden door that led to the 'back entry'. This narrow entry ran the length of the terrace, and was shared by the rear of the houses that formed another, parallel, terrace. This is mentioned because, by the beginning of 1940, the back entry was covered with concrete slabs to form a bomb shelter. This afforded protection from shrapnel, flying glass and debris, but not against a direct hit. 

Hanover Street with the back entry in yellow
Source: National Library of Scotland

When war was declared on the 3rd of September 1939, my mother was 11 years old, and my grandparents decided that she should join the 20,000 children that were being evacuated from Salford. The city, with its vital docks on the Manchester Ship Canal, was also a centre of strategic industries, making it a prime target for the Luftwaffe. Irene's sister, Doris, was three years old when the war broke out, but she remained in Salford under the care of her grandmother, Frances Lomas. In September 1939, Ethel began her lifelong career in engineering, and was trained as a lathe operator in the manufacture of airplane parts at Sir John Farmer Norton's factory on Silk Street, Adelphi, Salford. She continued her war work at Thomas Bradford's Crescent Iron Works (1940-41), and the electrical engineering company, Dorman and Smith (1942-45). She worked 10-12 hour shifts, almost everyday. The wages were good, affording some black market purchases. Walter attempted to join the RAF, but his work on the railway placed him in a reserved occupation. 

Left to right: Edith Rawlinson, Irene Wood, Betty Royle, Ella Collaro [1].

Neighbourhood friends who were evacuated together.

Taken in 1939 at Ryecroft Hall, Hambleton, near Poulton-le-Fylde, Lancashire.

My mother was evacuated from Cross Lane Station, which was serviced by the London, Midland and Scottish Railway (LMS). 

Cross Lane Station (looking westward). The bridge carried Cross Lane over the railway tracks, 

and the Station Hotel can be seen above it.

 

Her destination was Ryecroft Hall in Hambleton, a village located about six and a half miles northeast of Blackpool. This meant travelling by train to nearby Poulton-le-Fylde and then crossing the River Wyre by bus to the village. All the children wore a name tag, and carried their gas mask and a small suitcase containing their clothes.  In addition, they were given a carrier bag containing food items, which included a block of chocolate, a packet of biscuits and a packet of cream crackers. Some of the older lads, bent on mischief, began tormenting the girls with the warning that "When this is gone, that's your lot. You're going to starve to death." Whatever tears this taunt generated soon dried as the group arrived at the village hall to a feast of sandwiches, fruit and lemonade. Most of the Salford kids had never eaten a grape before, and the food was devoured in about ten minutes! 

Irene, Edith, Betty and Ella were billeted at Ryecroft Hall, the residence of the businessman, John William Lewis. He was the son of John Tetlow Lewis, J. P. of Westfield House, Patricroft and the sole proprietor of James, Lewis and Company, cotton manufacturers and merchants, (later called John T. Lewis & Sons), of 22 Fountain Street, Manchester, with offices in London, Glasgow and Belfast.  

The girls attended the local school in Hambleton. Life at Ryecroft Hall was in sharp contrast to the conditions they were used to living in. John Lewis had a yacht, with a skipper, who also served as the chauffeur. There was also a gardener, cook-housekeeper, and Margaret, the maid, all locals from Hambleton. John also had his own private bowling green located in front of the hall. He commuted by train from Poulton-le-Fylde to Manchester, where he would stay overnight for three days, but would return to Hambleton for the remainder of the week. Tea was served a 4:30 pm sharp, and dinner at 7:00 pm.

The 'skipper' of Mr. Lewis' yacht.

Ryecroft Hall

John William Lewis and his dog in the garden of Ryecroft Hall

Hothouse and vegetable garden at Ryecroft Hall

The niece of John William Lewis, Peggy Lewis Tuppen, at Ryecroft Hall

Ryecroft Hall, Hambleton

My mother recalled that her parents came to see her at Ryecroft Hall about every six weeks, and paid seven shillings a week toward her keep at their local post office. However, fooled by the months-long Phoney War, Walter and Ethel decided to bring their daughter home. Consequently, my mother spent the Christmas of 1940 in the back entry bomb shelter. On the nights of 22/23 and 23/24 December 1940, the Luftwaffe dropped some 467 tons of bombs on Manchester, Salford and Stretford, destroying and damaging thousands of homes, one of which belonged to my mother's maternal uncle, Harry Lomas, of Fleet Street. He and his family survived by taking shelter in the cellars of the Groves and Whitnall Brewery, itself badly bombed. During the Blitz, Irene left the safety of the shelter to run into the scullery to make Horlicks as a treat for the neighbourhood children. "Were you mad?", I later asked. She responded laughingly, "No ... Spirit of Britain". My mother left school at 14, and started work in 1942 at a Manchester garment factory making clothing for displaced persons. 

When I was a boy, my father, who lived nearby on West Brownbill Street (now demolished), showed me where a bomb had smashed through the wall of the Cross Lane bridge (shown above) to explode near the railway lines next to the Station Hotel. The spot was clearly marked by the new brickwork and coping stones used in its repair. The bridge was eventually demolished as part of Salford's programme of urban renewal. It had managed to survive the bombing, but not the city planners.  

Irene's time at Ryecroft Hall was a memorable one, and she formed a sentimental attachment to the place, returning for a visit in 1955. In 1989, to mark the 50th anniversary of her evacuation, I took her back to Rycroft Hall. By that time, it had become a restaurant, and the staff were most welcoming as she regaled them with her memories. My mother died on the 13th of December 2016 in California. Mercifully, she was spared the news that Ryecroft Hall had been demolished in 2021, a casualty of the covid lockdown.

Irene at Hambleton 1955

Magazine advertisement 1970s 

For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the silent-footed years pursue.

Oscar Wilde

[1] Ella's parents were from Malta.