THE ONLY BLUE DOOR
Imagine you are a twelve-year-old girl; you have a happy life and a family that loves you, then bit by bit your life disintegrates and you find yourself alone, thousands of miles from home.
It is September 1940, Maggie and her young siblings, Grace and Billy, are living in the East End of London with their parents. Their father has been killed at Dunkirk and their mother goes into hospital to have her fourth child, leaving the children with a neighbour. In one of the worst bombing raids of the war their home is destroyed and the neighbour is killed. Bewildered and frightened, the children wander the streets until they are taken in by some nuns. But their problems are not over; no-one can trace their mother and, labelled as orphans, they are sent as child migrants to Australia.
The story traces their adventures in their new country, the homesickness, the heartbreak when Billy is separated from his sisters and the loneliness of life in a cold and unfeeling orphanage. Eventually the children make new lives for themselves, but Maggie is still convinced that her mother is alive and once she is old enough, begins to search for her.
This novel is based on the experiences of real people and reflects the attitudes of the day to child migration during and after the Second World War.
Available in paperback from most on-line bookstores and as an ebook from:
www.amazon.co.uk
www.amazon.com
Click here for a PREVIEW
Imagine you are a twelve-year-old girl; you have a happy life and a family that loves you, then bit by bit your life disintegrates and you find yourself alone, thousands of miles from home.
It is September 1940, Maggie and her young siblings, Grace and Billy, are living in the East End of London with their parents. Their father has been killed at Dunkirk and their mother goes into hospital to have her fourth child, leaving the children with a neighbour. In one of the worst bombing raids of the war their home is destroyed and the neighbour is killed. Bewildered and frightened, the children wander the streets until they are taken in by some nuns. But their problems are not over; no-one can trace their mother and, labelled as orphans, they are sent as child migrants to Australia.
The story traces their adventures in their new country, the homesickness, the heartbreak when Billy is separated from his sisters and the loneliness of life in a cold and unfeeling orphanage. Eventually the children make new lives for themselves, but Maggie is still convinced that her mother is alive and once she is old enough, begins to search for her.
This novel is based on the experiences of real people and reflects the attitudes of the day to child migration during and after the Second World War.
Available in paperback from most on-line bookstores and as an ebook from:
www.amazon.co.uk
www.amazon.com
Click here for a PREVIEW
The Only Blue Door has received a DISCOVERING DIAMONDS review.
Family Drama
WWII
Australia
I approached this book not knowing quite what it was. The title did not reveal much, and for those who associate blue doors and window shutters with Greece I might as well state immediately that this book is not about Greece. At all. Instead, it is about an aspect of history I had never heard of before, namely that of British children sent off on their own as immigrants to Australia and other such “remote” locations.
It all starts with the German bombings of London during World War Two. Due to the sheer confusion and panic in the aftermath of these bombing raids, the Smith siblings are labelled as orphans and sent off abroad, with the eldest, Maggie, feeling very responsible for her brother Billy and little sister Grace.
They are not exactly welcomed with open arms in Australia. Billy is forcibly separated from his sisters, ending up in one orphanage, the girls in another. The orphanages are run by Catholic orders, and the fact that the Smith children aren’t Catholics is neither here nor there. The author is clearly not impressed by what she’s found during her research of these institutions and does not portray this as a loving and caring environment, rather the reverse. The monks and nuns responsible for the Smith children and all the other little immigrants show an amazing lack of empathy, making me draw parallels with similar stories from Ireland. So instead of being loved and cuddled, the children are given but rudimentary schooling, after which it is work, work and even more work.
The central character is Maggie. She takes her role as the eldest very seriously, and while Maggie remains convinced their mother isn’t dead, she goes along with the official story that their mother died in the bombings, thinking it will make it easier for Billy and Grace to adapt. Being the eldest, Maggie is the first to leave the orphanage for a new life outside, but she is torn by worry for little Grace, so unsuited to the harsh life with the nuns, and even more for Billy, whom she hasn’t heard of in years.
Ms Fallon is a competent writer. Her characters are well-developed, her prose is fluid and her descriptions bring the various settings to life. Nor does she shy away from the fact that this is a story with no Happily Ever After—how can there be? Personally, however, I found the ending somewhat inconclusive, but all in all The Only Blue Door is a gripping read, shedding light on human tragedies I had never heard of before.
© Anna Belfrage
Family Drama
WWII
Australia
I approached this book not knowing quite what it was. The title did not reveal much, and for those who associate blue doors and window shutters with Greece I might as well state immediately that this book is not about Greece. At all. Instead, it is about an aspect of history I had never heard of before, namely that of British children sent off on their own as immigrants to Australia and other such “remote” locations.
It all starts with the German bombings of London during World War Two. Due to the sheer confusion and panic in the aftermath of these bombing raids, the Smith siblings are labelled as orphans and sent off abroad, with the eldest, Maggie, feeling very responsible for her brother Billy and little sister Grace.
They are not exactly welcomed with open arms in Australia. Billy is forcibly separated from his sisters, ending up in one orphanage, the girls in another. The orphanages are run by Catholic orders, and the fact that the Smith children aren’t Catholics is neither here nor there. The author is clearly not impressed by what she’s found during her research of these institutions and does not portray this as a loving and caring environment, rather the reverse. The monks and nuns responsible for the Smith children and all the other little immigrants show an amazing lack of empathy, making me draw parallels with similar stories from Ireland. So instead of being loved and cuddled, the children are given but rudimentary schooling, after which it is work, work and even more work.
The central character is Maggie. She takes her role as the eldest very seriously, and while Maggie remains convinced their mother isn’t dead, she goes along with the official story that their mother died in the bombings, thinking it will make it easier for Billy and Grace to adapt. Being the eldest, Maggie is the first to leave the orphanage for a new life outside, but she is torn by worry for little Grace, so unsuited to the harsh life with the nuns, and even more for Billy, whom she hasn’t heard of in years.
Ms Fallon is a competent writer. Her characters are well-developed, her prose is fluid and her descriptions bring the various settings to life. Nor does she shy away from the fact that this is a story with no Happily Ever After—how can there be? Personally, however, I found the ending somewhat inconclusive, but all in all The Only Blue Door is a gripping read, shedding light on human tragedies I had never heard of before.
© Anna Belfrage
AWARDED A B.R.A.G.
HONOUREE MEDALLION
Read an extract
It is only two days later that the news arrives. Billy sees him first. He shouts upstairs to tell her. She looks out of the window and watches as the boy leans his bicycle against the post box and wanders along the street looking at the numbers on the doors. When he gets to their own blue door he stops, checks the envelope again and knocks. She feels a tightness in her chest and is unable to move. Irene knows from the moment the boy’s knuckles rap on her door that this marks the end of one life and the start of another. They will all remember that sound for a long time to come. She does not run to see is it good news or bad; her legs will not move. She lets Billy open the door and take the yellow envelope. She hears the voice of a young man, high and reedy.
‘Mrs Smith?’
‘Yes, that’s my Mum.’
‘Mrs Ronald Smith?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK son, give this to yer mum.’
She hears the door close and the sound of Billy’s feet running down the passage.
‘Mum, it’s a telegram,’ he cries, waving it in the air.
‘Maybe it’s to say Dad’s coming home,’ suggests Maggie.
She has Grace on her lap and is brushing her hair.
‘Thank you darling,’ Irene says.
She takes the envelope from him and slips it into the pocket of her apron.
‘Come on Mum. Aren’t you going to open it?’
‘Yes, open it, Mum.’
She looks at the fresh, hopeful faces of her children and the tears begin to form in her eyes. She pulls out the standard yellow envelope and holds it against her cheek. The only other telegram she has ever received was on the day of their wedding; Ronnie’s aunt May had sent it. ‘To wish you a long and happy married life,’ it said.
‘Mum.’
Maggie is hopping from foot to foot in anticipation.
Carefully Irene takes out a knife from the kitchen drawer and slides it under the fold of the telegram. She can sense the children’s eyes on her. She pulls out the folded paper and opens it.
‘WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU ...’
The words stab at her heart as she tries to focus. The uniform printed letters dance in front of her eyes; she can hardly make out what they say.
‘WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT PRIVATE RONALD BRUCE SMITH HAS BEEN KILLED IN ACTION ...’
She struggles for breath. Her heart is banging so loudly she cannot hear what her children are saying. She thinks she will collapse.
‘What’s it say Mum?’
‘Is he coming home? Is Dad coming home?’
‘Mummy. What’s it say?’
‘What’s the matter Mum? Mum? Is it about Dad?’
Irene lets out a long, agonised moan. Her legs give way under her and she grabs at the edge of the table to steady herself.
‘What’s the matter Mum?’
‘Mummy, why are you crying?’
No, not her Ronnie, it can’t be her Ronnie. Please God, let it be a mistake. But deep inside she knows it is no mistake. She looks at the anxious faces of her children; she has to be strong for them. She has to give them an answer.
‘No darlings, Daddy’s not coming home.’
The words are barely a whisper. She cannot hold back the tears.
‘Don’t cry Mummy,’ says Grace, clinging to her mother’s leg. ‘Don’t cry.’
The children crowd round her, each trying to comfort her in their own way. Maggie pulls out a chair so she can sit down. Billy anxiously pats her hand and Grace climbs up onto her knee and puts her podgy arms around her mother’s neck.
‘Does he have to go to another war now?’ asks Billy.
There is a lump in her throat that threatens to choke her; she swallows hard and says:
‘No, darling, he’s not going to go to any more wars, ever again.’
‘So he can come home then,’ says Billy, with a little skip of pleasure.
Maggie picks up the telegram from the table.
‘No, silly, he’s not ever coming home again. He’s been killed. Killed in action.’
She flings down the telegram and runs from the room.
‘Maggie ...’
Irene does not have the strength to go after her daughter. She hugs her other children to her, rocking them back and forth like she used to do when they were babies. Billy is quiet now. Grace is crying. She tries to comfort them but she does not know what to say. What can she say? It just is not fair. Ronnie was a good man, a kind man; he was her husband. He was too young to die. And they are all too young to live without him. This bloody war. It is so unfair.
It is only two days later that the news arrives. Billy sees him first. He shouts upstairs to tell her. She looks out of the window and watches as the boy leans his bicycle against the post box and wanders along the street looking at the numbers on the doors. When he gets to their own blue door he stops, checks the envelope again and knocks. She feels a tightness in her chest and is unable to move. Irene knows from the moment the boy’s knuckles rap on her door that this marks the end of one life and the start of another. They will all remember that sound for a long time to come. She does not run to see is it good news or bad; her legs will not move. She lets Billy open the door and take the yellow envelope. She hears the voice of a young man, high and reedy.
‘Mrs Smith?’
‘Yes, that’s my Mum.’
‘Mrs Ronald Smith?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK son, give this to yer mum.’
She hears the door close and the sound of Billy’s feet running down the passage.
‘Mum, it’s a telegram,’ he cries, waving it in the air.
‘Maybe it’s to say Dad’s coming home,’ suggests Maggie.
She has Grace on her lap and is brushing her hair.
‘Thank you darling,’ Irene says.
She takes the envelope from him and slips it into the pocket of her apron.
‘Come on Mum. Aren’t you going to open it?’
‘Yes, open it, Mum.’
She looks at the fresh, hopeful faces of her children and the tears begin to form in her eyes. She pulls out the standard yellow envelope and holds it against her cheek. The only other telegram she has ever received was on the day of their wedding; Ronnie’s aunt May had sent it. ‘To wish you a long and happy married life,’ it said.
‘Mum.’
Maggie is hopping from foot to foot in anticipation.
Carefully Irene takes out a knife from the kitchen drawer and slides it under the fold of the telegram. She can sense the children’s eyes on her. She pulls out the folded paper and opens it.
‘WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU ...’
The words stab at her heart as she tries to focus. The uniform printed letters dance in front of her eyes; she can hardly make out what they say.
‘WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT PRIVATE RONALD BRUCE SMITH HAS BEEN KILLED IN ACTION ...’
She struggles for breath. Her heart is banging so loudly she cannot hear what her children are saying. She thinks she will collapse.
‘What’s it say Mum?’
‘Is he coming home? Is Dad coming home?’
‘Mummy. What’s it say?’
‘What’s the matter Mum? Mum? Is it about Dad?’
Irene lets out a long, agonised moan. Her legs give way under her and she grabs at the edge of the table to steady herself.
‘What’s the matter Mum?’
‘Mummy, why are you crying?’
No, not her Ronnie, it can’t be her Ronnie. Please God, let it be a mistake. But deep inside she knows it is no mistake. She looks at the anxious faces of her children; she has to be strong for them. She has to give them an answer.
‘No darlings, Daddy’s not coming home.’
The words are barely a whisper. She cannot hold back the tears.
‘Don’t cry Mummy,’ says Grace, clinging to her mother’s leg. ‘Don’t cry.’
The children crowd round her, each trying to comfort her in their own way. Maggie pulls out a chair so she can sit down. Billy anxiously pats her hand and Grace climbs up onto her knee and puts her podgy arms around her mother’s neck.
‘Does he have to go to another war now?’ asks Billy.
There is a lump in her throat that threatens to choke her; she swallows hard and says:
‘No, darling, he’s not going to go to any more wars, ever again.’
‘So he can come home then,’ says Billy, with a little skip of pleasure.
Maggie picks up the telegram from the table.
‘No, silly, he’s not ever coming home again. He’s been killed. Killed in action.’
She flings down the telegram and runs from the room.
‘Maggie ...’
Irene does not have the strength to go after her daughter. She hugs her other children to her, rocking them back and forth like she used to do when they were babies. Billy is quiet now. Grace is crying. She tries to comfort them but she does not know what to say. What can she say? It just is not fair. Ronnie was a good man, a kind man; he was her husband. He was too young to die. And they are all too young to live without him. This bloody war. It is so unfair.