top of page

Chapter 1

Who knew that there was so much hidden in this sleepy little village? The 75th anniversary of VE Day was a great reason to escape the eerily quiet classrooms of Chevening. The school which happily hosted 200 pupils a term before, seemed to be a becalmed, silent ghost-ship - complete with skeleton crew.

​

Following the strict isolation rules, the secluded village hardly dared breathe. An invisible threat was carried person to person through the air. However, there was at least one permissible excuse to venture out and to feel the warmth of the sun on skin that was washed pale and dry. Exercise was one of those condoned activities where you could escape for an hour or so; and Friday would normally have been cross-country day.

 

Sweat was your permission card should the Police patrol spot you. Resting on the grass or a solitary bench was a definite ‘no no’, so the children pressed on.

As they jogged, Sarah’s mind began to wonder about what had happened here all those years ago.  The small group peeled off to lap the rec as if following lead Spitfire 9GQ. James spied a lone football and hoped to play an impromptu game, perhaps with the pretext of commemorating a Christmas truce? But ‘the Colonel’, who was adept at reading young minds, punted the ball aside.

“Wrong war laddie! Keep running.” Always keen to pepper any opportune moment with a fact or two (and held by the past as if on elastic) the Colonel sprayed facts over his shoulder as they ran. Sarah caught snippets drifting through the air…

“The whole field was turned over to planting - ‘dig for victory’ you know.”


“… village doubled in size when the evacuees arrived.”

​

“...never seen a cow before – should have seen the look of horror as one was milked. He nearly fainted!”

​

The tiny troupe of school children jogged along next to the stream feeding the Darrent. They heard how falling bombs, dropped in the hope of hitting grand Chevening House, missed their target and claimed the life of two home-guard twins returning from their watch one hellish night.  Brave Gordon and Herbert are resting before their time at St. Botolph's church.   

The company continued onwards towards the deserted Bricklayer’s Arms, closed now due to the ban. They stopped on the green between the public house and Chipstead Lake.


“Drop and give me twenty” barked the Colonel. Sarah wasn’t sure whether her teacher was finding a quick, surreptitious way to regain his breath, or had slipped back into the 1940s as imagined leader of the home guard. 

​

The children panted but the lesson continued. They heard how some of the older pupils would sometimes stand under the overhanging eaves, or in doorway; watching dogfights rage in the sky above. There they sheltered from the rain of spent shells that clattered to the ground. Anyone foolish enough to pick one up would find that even when spent, their heat still carried searing pain.

scarecrow.jpg
cottage white small.jpg
Bricklayers.JPG
bottom of page