'The Move' by Rosie Pugh

I sat in the picture house and became part of a fantasy world for a few short hours. I wondered if what I saw was true for I had never seen it happen in my everyday life. I was fifteen and was just finishing my second holiday job before going back to the polytechnic college in the autumn term
On the way home we went to the sea cliff and dangled our legs over the edge watching the sea lap the sandy beach below. From one of the café’s music was filtering through playing ‘Mary Lou’. A dark blue, velvet sky hung above where the stars shone. The moon peeped through and the sound of the ocean was near by. It was heaven. But when I went home I would receive news that would break my heart and change my life forever.
Nothing had prepared me for the shock when Mum greeted me with the news that we were off to England. England to me was where my father had gone to find work. I begged and pleaded, but to no avail, this nightmare would not go away. I was leaving my beautiful Ireland. Mum’s health was deteriorating and she was concerned that we would be split up. I was forbidden to let our father know.
I didn’t fully understand because the issues were never explained. In those days children just did as they were told. Everything was sold, even the beautiful Bible that was our father’s. All that we took was what we stood up in and a few extra items in a suitcase.
We went to say goodbye to friends and cousins of Mum’s near Great Uncle Barney’s place. And we made our last goodbyes to the mountains, sea and surrounding fields of Frosses and Meenbrock.
My brothers were only seven and ten. How they felt I don’t know. Even today it’s not mentioned. We stayed at the Mc Nulty’s before we departed in the morning. My pain was so great I ran away. I was engulfed in a sea of tears that ran down my face as fast as my legs were running. But there was no place for me to hide. I feared that if I stopped I would crumble into pieces. Eamonn my friend found me. There was a search party out looking for me. Reluctantly I went back; I was terrified. I was leaving everything behind that I loved and the place where I felt safe.
Much of the journey I don’t remember, except sailing across the rough sea, which was horrific. We huddled on deck: my brothers Philip and Johnny clinging to our mum; me gazing across the ocean - tears as wild as the sea would not stop running down my face. The pain in my chest was fierce. I could not breathe. People were huddled together, crying and being seasick. The sky was as dark as the sea below. Waves tossed the ship from side to side as it made the journey across the ocean. How long we sailed I don’t remember. I had switched off. As we drew near people were shouting and pushing getting ready to leave the ship.
When we disembarked, I saw tall buildings, fast cars and no smiling faces. I did not know our destination at the time; only Mum knew. We boarded a coach that would take us to Scotland to some friends of Mum’s. I stayed outside as I did not like the feel of the area and it would be years later that my brother Philip would tell me the name. Mum emerged from that place and once more we boarded a coach where we slept for the night.
We arrived in Birmingham with no place to stay and wandered the streets looking for help. Finally, Mum found an organisation that helped immigrants; funny though, Mum and Dad were not immigrants and neither was I but because we came from living in Ireland we were classed as one. We found a room for the night, and then the next morning we were moved again; where, we did not know. What was to become of us?
Our father knew nothing of these plans. We had not seen him that summer. What had gone on for Mum to bring us? The light of the early morning filtered through the window of the small room that the four of us shared that night. It was cold as we emerged into the light of the day to once more wander the streets until finally we were put in touch with a woman with a grown up son in Yardley.
Time went by and Mum went to meet Dad and that was when all hell was let loose. Once more it was my fault. He roared at me. Why did you not tell me what was going on? I started to explain. No one wanted to listen.
In due course we moved to Chester Road. My parents rented the top flat of a very large house, which was the attic. It was both the sitting room and my parent’s bedroom. My brothers had a room next door and my room was on the second floor. By then I was working at Woolworth’s. I had to hand over my wage packet to my father unopened.
After a couple of years I left home and by nineteen I was married.