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Middlemore Emigration Home, Birmingham

Far-away

Nothing is familiar,

They hang on with woe.

If they saw their chance,

Where would they go?

February 10, 1937

The train picked up speed as it pulled out of Newcastle Central Station. As the children watched Newcastle disappear, they abandoned any shred of hope for finding their way home. Restlessness and worry became their constant companions. Fear kept them speechless. The train rolled down the track, taking them further and further away from their family and everything they had ever known.

They had barely left the station, but it felt to them that they had been travelling for an eternity. Birmingham was their destination, but where was that? The four of them sat together on a bench. Sister sat behind by herself where she could keep an eye on all without having to sit with them. This was an unpleasant task for her and she would be glad when it was over.

Kenny peered out the window, watching the world go by. The drizzle had steadily increased as they travelled south and now it was raining hard. The wind splattered the raindrops on the window. He watched the droplets gather and run in little muddy streams. Seeing past the dirt and the rain was difficult, so he decided to find a better seat. “C’mon,” Kenny motioned to the others to follow.

Sister immediately reacted and told them to get back to their seats and stay there. She told them that they could not be running all over the train and if they didn’t behave she will put every one of them off at the next station and they would be lost forever. Kenny quickly scrambled back. He pushed Marjorie out of the way, reclaiming his window seat. She was about to push back when Sister’s face stopped her. The thought of standing on a strange platform and watching the train go on without her gave Marjorie such a fright that she quickly moved and gave the window seat back to Kenny.

The unfamiliar landscape sped by. Around noon, Sister passed the children some bread. The train’s rhythmic motion lulled the children, and, having eaten, they curled up on the bench and one by one, fell asleep. As Marjorie slept, she dreamt of Whitley Bay and when this train blew its whistle, she dreamt that she was hearing the train coming into their Whitley Bay Station.

“We’re almost at Birmingham New Station, wake up. We have to change here for the Selly Oak train,” Sister said as she shook each child. Marjorie jumped when Sister touched her and nearly fell off her seat. She gasped, ready to bolt, but when she opened her eyes she realized where she was. The other three woke up, cranky from their uncomfortable sleep. Audrey cried out for her mum. Joyce tried to distract her by reading the sign as they pulled into the station. “Look Audrey, it says Birmingham New Station.”

Audrey punched at Joyce and said, “I don’t care. I hate everyone. I just want my mum. I want to go home.”

Sister scolded both girls and said that good little girls did not talk like that. She looked at Audrey and told her that she could forget about going home and it would be best if she could forget about seeing her mother, as that would not happen. “The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for everyone.” Sister ignored Audrey’s wail and demanded that everyone stand up; it was time to get off the train.

The four children stumbled onto the platform, feeling overwhelmed and disoriented. This station seemed as busy as the streets of Newcastle. Sister shouted above the din for the children to follow her, proclaiming that if they got lost she would not waste her time looking for them. They quickly found the platform for the Selly Oak train and quietly climbed aboard when their train arrived. It seemed that they had barely been on the train when Sister said to get ready to get off. Their stop was the next one. They stood on the platform looking at Sister for instructions, but she turned from them and marched on, then, after a moment, stopped to see if they were following. The girls bumped into her. “Pay attention. Now, where is the boy?” She demanded.

A streak of panic went through Joyce. “Kenny!” She yelled out. “Kenny, where are you?” Looking after the younger ones and herself was proving to be a trying chore. She told Marjorie to hold Audrey’s hand and to stay put while she ran back towards the tracks. Kenny was standing there, totally fascinated by the trains, not even aware that he was lost.

“Kenny, you gave me a scare!” Joyce grabbed him and told home to stay with her. She will leave you behind, she warned, but Kenny did not seem to care. He told her that he was just watching the trains. He pointed to one and said that he bet it was going to London.

Marjorie, waiting with Audrey, didn’t like the looks of Birmingham. It was so far from Whitley Bay. She could find her way all around Whitley Bay, but in these past few days they had travelled so far and through such huge places she hardly knew which way to go. It would be impossible for the four of them to walk home now. In Newcastle, when they told the children that they were leaving for the Middlemore Emigration Home[1] in Birmingham, she had hidden some of her bread in her sleeve, but they found it and took it away. She thought she could use the bread like Hansel and Gretel and find the way back to her mum, but it would be impossible after today’s long train ride. She would need a thousand loaves of bread, maybe even a million. She had no idea that England was so big. The train had raced by town after town, field after field. It made her head dizzy.

Marjorie Arnison is shown in a photograph taken at the Middlemore Emigration Home for the Fairbridge Society Files, circa summer 1937.

University of Liverpool Archives, Special Collections Branch, Fairbridge Archives, Arnison Family Records, D296.E1.

Joyce ran back with Kenny in tow. Sister warned, “You there, hold onto the boy’s hand and don’t let go. Do you understand?” Joyce nodded as she grabbed his hand.

Marjorie took a long look at the station as they walked away. The sign said Selly Oak. It was the only way they would ever get back to Whitley Bay, but which train would they catch and where would they get the money for the tickets?

“Ow! You don’t have to squeeze so hard,” yelled Kenny. He wiggled as he tried to get free, but Joyce only held tighter. She was not taking any chances. Joyce snapped at Marjorie to grab Audrey’s hand and warned her not to let go. Marjorie decided not to argue. The forlorn little group followed as fast as their feet would allow. They walked across a little bridge and carried on up the road. The cold February rain began to wick its way up their socks. Their shoes made little squishing noises as they marched along.

They crossed a busy street and continued up Bristol Road. Sister turned around to make sure she hadn’t lost anyone. With a sigh of relief she saw all four trailing after her, so she told the children that it wouldn’t be long now as they were almost at the home.

Excitedly, Audrey let go of Marjorie’s hand and grabbed Joyce’s coat. “She said we are going home, Joyce.”

For a moment, that was what Joyce heard too, and then she remembered the nuns had said they were going to the home and she knew it was not their home. She had to tell Audrey that they were going to a different home, not home to their mum and their Whitley Bay home. Tears welled up in Audrey’s eyes and were about to come spilling out when Sister noticed. She told Audrey that she had enough of her nonsense. She looked at the group and told them all that they must learn to be good little soldiers for the King, and warned the children that “brave little soldiers do not whine and cry.” She needed to deliver the children to the home and have nothing stand in her way of catching the train and returning directly to Newcastle. She did not want to waste her time wiping their tears and she did not want to walk into the home with a group of blubbering children.

Marjorie glared at Sister. These last couple of days had been the worst days ever. She just wanted to know what was going to happen to them and when they would get to go home but she could not find her voice to ask. In Newcastle the nuns kept them busy with chores during the day, but the nighttime was different. She lay in her little cot on the second night, and the loneliness and coldness crept in that would not leave. Fear overtook sleepiness. If the nights scared her, she thought, then what was it like for Kenny? He was all alone.

They had not seen Kenny until they were ready to leave for the train that morning. He was so happy to see them, and choked back tears as he grabbed Joyce’s hand. Marjorie noticed that he held on until they were on the train. When Joyce asked him where he had been and if he was okay, he just looked at them, his frightened eyes telling their own story.

They had lots to eat at Newcastle. Still, Marjorie wanted to go home. She wanted her mum. She would rather be hungry and be with her. Homesickness and fear were leaving little room for anything else inside.

Sister interrupted Marjorie’s thoughts as she yelled for the children to come along and not dally. As they plodded up the road, above them the low thick clouds made the early afternoon an eerie darkness. The light drizzle was turning to slush, and then to snow. The cold crept in and threatened to create a mutiny among the children. Audrey sat down and refused to walk anymore. Joyce pleaded for her to get up, telling her that she was getting all wet. But Audrey would not budge. Joyce reached down, picked her little sister up, and tried to carry her, but she was too heavy. When, after a short distance, she put her down, Audrey just stood, stubbornly refusing to move. Joyce pulled at her, trying her best to get her sister to keep walking. Kenny piped up and told her that the bogeyman will get her, or maybe Jack the Ripper! His warning had the desired effect. Audrey squealed and looked behind her. She demanded that they stop teasing her, but she walked on, keeping close to Joyce, just in case.

They turned down a little lane. At the end was a tall church spire. As they approached the church, they veered off on a smaller path. Marjorie read the sign by the church fence: THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, ST. MARY’S PARISH CHURCH, SELLY OAK. Sister announced, with noticeable relief in her voice, “We are almost there.”

The children peered through the falling snowflakes at what was to be their new home. Snow sticking to the ground around the grim grey building made the dreary scene look even more uninviting. It was so much bigger than their Rockcliffe School. Joyce whispered that it looked like a hospital. They walked along the side of the building to the main entrance and followed quietly into the building. Shaking the rain and snow from her coat, Sister whispered, “Now you four better be on your best behaviour, or else.”

Marjorie hoped that Sister would leave right away. They were supposed to call her Sister but she was not their sister, and Marjorie did not even like her. It was easy to see that she did not like them either. She always yelled at them for no reason, and that made Marjorie nervous. It angered her that during lunch Sister kept all the soft inside parts of the bread and passed the hard, burnt crusts to them. Their mum would never do that. They shared everything and if there was not enough, their mum would divide her share too. But it was more than that. It was the little things. She missed her mum’s smile and her warm eyes. Sister’s eyes were icy-cold, just like the snowflakes.

Joyce, Audrey, and Marjorie returned to the Middlemore Emigration Home in Selly Oak, Birmingham, in August 2001, over sixty years after they had been placed there. The top floor of the wing on the left of the photograph was the girl’s dormitory. The building was demolished circa 2005.

Photo by Patricia Skidmore.

The group followed cautiously into the foyer. The hallway, which travelled the entire length of the building, bustled with children. Kenny, curious as ever, started to explore, but Sister grabbed him by the collar and pushed him ahead of her, motioning for the girls to come along. They stood on the threshold of a large office. A lamp lit the desk but cast eerie shadows over the rest of the room. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they were drawn to a rather large man sitting behind the desk. He did not look up but continued to write in his notebook. Smoke from his pipe disappeared into the darkness above his head.

Sister cleared her throat and excused herself, telling the man that she had the four children from the Fairbridge Dean Street office in Newcastle. As she handed him an envelope, he put his pen down and looked up at her and then at the envelope. Sister whispered, “You were expecting us, weren’t you?” Her meek voice caused Marjorie to look up and stare at her.

Without a word, he took the envelope and pulled out its contents.

“Please, sir,” the Sister implored, “everything is in order, I hope.”

He puffed away on his pipe as he looked through the papers without answering her. At one point, he gazed up over his spectacles and stared long and hard at each child. His bushy furrowed eyebrows, along with the pipe smoke curling up past his nose, had Marjorie struggling to contain a fit of the giggles.

Sister hissed through her teeth for the children to stand up straight and to be polite. Marjorie choked back a giggle just in time. She concentrated on paying attention and tried not to move about, but it was not easy. Edgy nerves were hard to control. Looking at one spot sometimes helped, so in desperation she looked at the floor by her feet. Her shoes were leaking and her coat was leaving a circle of little droplets. The two puddles ran together and disappeared under the desk. She longed for her mum. The room was hot and stuffy. A strange feeling came over her, starting with a tingling in her scalp and snaked its way down to her toes. The room swayed. His voice intruded into Marjorie’s world of worries when he announced that everything appeared to be in order and said to take them away now.

“Come along with me.” The children had not noticed the woman in a white uniform somewhat like a nurse would wear standing behind them. When the children remained fast to their spots, she urged them to follow her. She chatted kindly to them suggesting that they must be tired after their long journey. She pointed to a rather large cupboard in the hallway, lined with rows of hooks and told them to hang their wet coats there. As they did so, they were told that, first, she would quickly show them around the home and then they could get out of their wet shoes and socks. She told them to call her Nurse and asked them for their names.

She had a nice voice, even if the girls had a hard time understanding exactly what she said. Joyce spoke first, “I’m Joyce, and this is Marjorie and Audrey. We’re sisters and Kenny is our brother.”

Nurse smiled and said, “Well, I’m pleased to meet you. Let’s go this way.” She started walking towards the centre of the building. When the girls looked back for Kenny, they saw Sister leaving the office and marching quickly towards the door. Marjorie said good riddance under her breath. Nurse turned and asked, “Pardon me?” but Marjorie stammered that it was nothing, she was just wondering about Kenny that was all.

“The boy’s nurse will show him to his dorm. He’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about him.” The tears in Kenny’s eyes moved down his cheeks as she escorted him away. The separation in Newcastle had terrified him, and now it was happening again. Joyce knew she would not be able to help him much, but she boldly questioned where they were taking their brother. Nurse assured the sisters that he would be looked after. She hurried the girls along, and told them that it would soon be teatime.

Marjorie commented on the number of children who were visible as they walked down the halls. She asked if they all lived here or were they getting ready to go home after school. Nurse told them that they had quite a large family at Middlemore and that all the children belonged at the home. She explained that they do not have their school classes here but go out to the local schools during the day. They climbed up the middle stairs and turned down a hallway. Nurse pointed out the dining hall where they should go for their tea when the bell rang. As they walked on into a warm steamy kitchen, Nurse said, “Cook, we have three new girls.”

Over the stove stood a rather stout short woman, wearing an apron that was smudged across her middle. She stood on her tiptoes and steadied herself with one hand on the counter’s edge while in the other hand she held a wooden spoon that seemed to disappear inside a rather large pot. Cook shouted a jolly greeting at the girls as she stirred.

“Agnes, Betty, and Margaret, these are the new girls — Joyce, Marjorie, and Audrey. I expect you to make sure they settle in and help them out if they need it.” The three young kitchen helpers stopped cleaning up potato peelings to stare at the newcomers.

“Yes, ma’am,” they assured her.

“Ello, Awdery.” Agnes smiled.

Audrey looked at Agnes and said, “You all talk funny.” Joyce thought Audrey was going to get into trouble again, but Cook had a lot of fun with that.

“Well, well, me dearie.” She laughed, “I reckon you sound funny to us as well. It won’t take long for you to understand us and for us to be able to understand you Geordies.”[2] She explained that children come to the home from all over England so they were used to the new children’s response to their Birmingham accents. She told the girls that they have had quite a few Geordies from the Tyneside area lately, so have had a bit of practice with their lot now.

Nurse whisked them from the kitchen and showed the girls the toilets and the bathroom. There were rows of towels, bathtubs, and sinks.

“Joyce, there’s no privacy anywhere,” Marjorie whispered.

This image of the bathroom facilities, known as “Splash House,” was published in the Middlemore Homes Annual Report, 1934.

Birmingham Archives & Heritage, the Sir John Middlemore Charitable Trust, Middlemore Fonds, MS 517/25.

This image of the girl’s dormitory at the Middlemore Emigration Home was published in the Middlemore Homes Annual Report of 1934. Marjorie recalled the long rows of beds with their grey blankets.

Birmingham Archives & Heritage, Sir John Middlemore Charitable Trust, Middlemore Fonds, MS 517/25.

The girl’s dorm came next. The girls were shown to their beds in the large room filled with individual cots. Nurse pointed out Audrey’s cot first. Audrey sat on it, delighted that it was softer than the one in Newcastle. Her face dropped though, when she saw Joyce’s cot so far away from hers and then Marjorie’s cot clear across the room. Audrey began to shake, but there was no time to worry. Nurse left the room and beckoned them to follow her to the room across the hall. Rows of little cupboard doors covered the wall at one end. Nurse said these were lockers where all the girls kept their clothing.

“Now, here is a locker for you, Audrey. Marjorie and Joyce you can have the lockers next to hers.” Marjorie was about to say that they didn’t bring anything to put in the locker, when Nurse unlocked another cupboard and inside the girls saw rows of clothes, all neatly folded — tunics, blouses, skirts, jumpers, socks, shoes, bloomers, coats, and pyjamas — everything a little girl would ever need. The sisters’ eyes grew large, and they stood quietly and stared, not daring to hope that they would be getting some of these fine clothes. While Nurse was busy digging through the piles of clothes, Joyce whispered to her sisters asking them if they thought they might get to keep the clothes.

Nurse heard the girls but she did not answer right away. She was used to this reaction from the new children. They usually came to the home wearing threadbare hand-me-downs and were pleased when given a set of good clothes as well as a set of play clothes, even if they were already well worn and not brand new. Most of the children who went into the home were getting their first pair of shoes with the soles intact. In no time, the three sisters each stood with a pile of clothing bigger than they ever had before.

“These are for us? Just for us?” Audrey sighed.

“Yes, that’s right,” Nurse replied. “Now put your white blouse and tunic on as quickly as you can and come straight to the dining hall. The bell will ring shortly. Don’t be late.” With that, she was gone.

Their ill-fitting Newcastle jumpers and skirts were quickly tossed into a heap in the corner. Marjorie did not mind about losing her mum’s dress anymore. She was so proud of her dress on her last birthday, but now she had something that was so much prettier.

Joyce whispered that the people seemed nicer than those at Newcastle. The sisters nodded in agreement. Marjorie whispered back, “But Audrey’s right, they talk funny! I don’t know what they’re saying!” The three girls grinned as they put on their new socks and shoes.

Audrey smiled as she twirled around, “Don’t I look nice?”

“You look very smart, Audrey,” Joyce replied.

“How do I look?” Joyce turned around.

“Grand,” giggled Marjorie.

Real shoes, Marjorie thought, not hand-me-down boots with the soles already so thin that they had to put cardboard in to keep their feet from sticking through. Now the kids at school could not make fun of them. She imagined walking into her classroom with her new clothes, but then she remembered where they were. Would they ever be going to school in Whitley Bay again? It was too frightening to think that they might never go back.

Joyce heard the bell first and hurried her sisters along. It was impossible not to find the dining hall — all they had to do was follow the throng of children. The three sisters stood at the doorway of the noisy hall and peered in. They could hear the clanging of cups and plates as children set the tables. Children were everywhere. They charged down the hallway, pushed past the newcomers, and scurried for a seat. Kenny was across the room with a group of boys. He was laughing. He looked smart in his new clothes. A nurse, noticing the newcomers, waved them in and found them a place at one of the tables.

That night, Marjorie, exhausted after her long day, crawled into her cot. Why were they separated at night? Joyce had asked the night nurse if they could put their cots closer together, but the answer was not much help.

“No, we have placed your cots apart for a reason. It is important that you all become self-reliant.”

What did that mean? When Joyce said that Audrey just turned seven and she was afraid of the dark, the nurse told Joyce not to coddle her. That was the second time since leaving Whitley Bay she’d heard that word. Marjorie did not know what it meant, but she suspected that maybe she and Joyce should not look after their little sister. That was silly! That was what big sisters did. Marjorie started to say that it was not fair but was silenced by Nurse, who made it clear that it was bedtime and there was to be no more talking. With a firm “good night,” the door closed.

Marjorie’s frustration kept her from settling down. They had already separated them from their mum, and now they separated them from each other as well. And Kenny — where was he sleeping? He was all alone. Was it harder for him? She remembered seeing him at teatime but was not able to talk to him. He looked as though he was already making friends with the other boys. Maybe he was all right.

Marjorie wriggled onto her side. Propping up her head with her hand, she surveyed the room. Two long rows of little cots, all with the same grey blankets. She could hear Audrey crying. Her sobs grew louder as everyone settled down. A girl yelled out that she could not get to sleep with all the racket. Another muffled complaint found its way out from under someone’s covers. A third voice yelled from across the room for them all to be quiet. The commotion brought Nurse. She was quickly told that it was the new girl.

“Audrey, we will have to put you in a room by yourself if you don’t stop this nonsense. You are keeping the other girls awake. You must be quiet!” Nurse scolded.

Joyce sat up, and, attempting to rescue her little sister, said, “Ma’am, I think she’s crying because she has a toothache.” This explanation had worked at Newcastle. She did not want Audrey put in a room by herself, but there was no sympathy. Nurse warned Audrey again that there was to be no more noise.

As the dorm door shut, it took away the light from the hallway. Marjorie’s eyes took a little while to adjust to the darkness. Across the room, she could make out Joyce’s shadow as she silently snuck out of her bed and tiptoed towards Audrey’s cot. Some of the other girls were whispering and pointing. Marjorie heard one of the girls say that she was going to tell.

“You better not! I’ll whip you if you do!” Marjorie warned, surprising herself, but she knew she needed to stand her corner if she was going to survive in this place. She meant it. She would whip her.

The little girl in the cot next to Marjorie whispered, “Good for you. I’ll help you. My name is Olive. I just got here today. How long have you been here?”

“Thanks. My name is Marjorie. I just got here today too.”

“Hush all of you, or Nurse will come back.” A voice whispered out of the darkness. Marjorie thought it sounded like one of the big girls from the kitchen. The whispering stopped, but all eyes were on Joyce as she crept across the dorm. She stopped at Audrey’s cot and carefully scooped up her sobbing sister, who quieted down immediately as her arms went around her big sister’s neck. Joyce carried her back to her own bed and they snuggled down together. Marjorie thought that it was too bad that those awful people in Newcastle had burnt Audrey’s doll. She always slept with it at night. Adults did not seem to know what was important to kids.

Joyce was knackered, but fought away her sleepy feeling. They must not catch her with Audrey in her cot, but it was taking ages for Audrey to fall asleep. When her breathing finally became quiet, Joyce counted all the way to one hundred. Then she counted again, before she was really convinced that Audrey would stay asleep when she moved her back to her own cot.

Moving as quietly as she could, Joyce climbed out of bed and picked her up. She prayed that Audrey would not wake up crying again. She wondered why they had to put them so far away from each other. Audrey was afraid of being alone, and even though they said she would get used to it, it didn’t seemed right.

When Joyce settled back into her cot, her thoughts jumped to Phyllis and Jean and she pictured them in their bed. They would have a lot of room now. It would not be so crowded, but it would not be as warm and cozy either. Then her thoughts jumped to Kenny. Joyce was afraid that it would be impossible to look after him, but maybe not as difficult as it had been in Newcastle.

As time went on, the girls learned to communicate with Kenny without talking. Their eyes met when they saw each other. Sometimes it was across the dining hall or when they passed each other walking to their day schools or when they walked down the pathway to the church. Marjorie thought that his eyes always looked a little sad. Nevertheless, before long, they began to fit into their new lives and they stopped complaining about what had happened to them — outwardly at least.

It didn’t take long to learn that their complaints and questions would get them into trouble; it was better to keep quiet and hold on to their feelings. Their instincts, with the experience at Newcastle still frighteningly fresh in their minds, told them that it could get a lot worse. They tried to be good and not make any fuss, fearful of the possibility of being sent back to Newcastle.