- Contributed by
- penpress
- People in story:
- Dulcie Matthews
- Location of story:
- Coventry
- Background to story:
- Civilian
- Article ID:
- A3098892
- Contributed on:
- 07 October 2004
Paradise in Coventry during the 1940's - a microcosm of humanity surviving one of WW2's worst bombing campaigns. A glimpse into a world long gone, but not forgotten.
Excerpt from my book "From Paradise to Eden" ISBN 1-904754-56-2
Kicking shrapnel along the street is another great way to pass the time. We spend long hours seeing which one can kick it the furthest, the one to reach the opposite gutter is the winner. Shoes already shabby and almost toeless become shabbier as the sharp pieces of metal tear into them.
It is a large piece of shrapnel that takes a big part of our front step away. Years later, my brother tells me the story of the missing chunk. Dear old Dad was standing on it, watching the planes and listening for the sirens. Mum was following the usual routine at mealtimes of calling "Sam!", and Dad was following the usual routine of ignoring her. Finally he decided to give in, at the same time as the piece of shrapnel took the lump from our step... missing him by inches!
Our lives are governed by ration books, and treats are rare. This makes the box of Mars bars in the corner of the back bedroom very tempting - almost unbearably tempting. Mum is going shopping... she sets off in her tweed coat, hair neatly rolled around her head and bag in her hand. I am left out in the street to play. This is my moment! We are always short of things - first they aren't there, and then, when they are we can't have them. They have to be limited; eked out and made to last. I climb through the pantry window which is a tight squeeze. Some heaving and struggling, a scratched knee, and I drop onto the stone sink then onto the floor. Not considering any consequences and driven only by the need to have a chocolate bar, I go up to the back bedroom, take out the mars bars and begin to eat. The pleasure in indescribable, but the moment is brief. I hear the key turn in the back door and my heart thumps. My mother is back and I am in trouble again. I am a thief. I am deceitful. I cannot be trusted. I am greedy, and I don't deserve anything.
But with the taste of chocolate still in my mouth and a sick feeling in my stomach, it is worth it!
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