The soft, wool blanket around me was comfortable and warm as a cuddled into my daddy's shoulder.

But why was he carrying me down the stairs from our house? Where were we going? I couldn't remember being lifted from my bed but I knew I was still sleepy, my head rolling back and forth so that's where I must have been.

This was strange. We were going out the heavy front door of the close. That one was never used. Everyone - Daddies, Mummies, children and even visitors used the other door at the back.

It was through the back door that the coal scuttles were carried and that Mummy humphed the big basket of washing to the washhouse. It was through this door that she brought back the sweet-smelling clothes from the lines on the back green. Peg bag dangling over the side and the grey rope coiled up skilfully between her hand and elbow, finished off with a few turns with the end pulled through to form a loop. In my house it was then hung up beside the creaky basket in the recess round the corner of the lobby.

It was in this recess that things were packed "Just in case". This was difficult to understand. The things were in the case. It stood near the front door. "Ready to go."

When I had persisted I was told, "Ready to go to the shelter. Wouldn't that be exciting?"

That brick building with the thick concrete roof and the door so low even I had to crawl into it.

How would Mrs Brown get in? She was old, like Granny and complained of being stiff and had fingers that were bent up. She couldn't knit the socks and turn the heels like Granny did.Clicking away every minute of the day with the four shiny needles, she knitted socks for everyone, including my daddy. Thick wool for working socks to wear with his tackity boots and fine wool for when he wore his suit, soft hat and brogues.

But what was he wearing now?

I could smell the Brylcream on his hear and the shaving soap and splashy tonic that he patted on his face after he closed the big razor and put it high on top of the bathroom cabinet.

But where were we going? Where was my little brother? Was this the time for the shelter? It didn't seem so exciting now. I was sleepy. I wanted to go back to my warm bed with my black doll.

Suddenly I was wide awake. On the grass leading to the field was a huge bonfire roaring louder than the washhouse fire. Sparks flew up into the air like stars. I had never seen a bonfire. I knew about them from the stories of Guy Fawkes but this was a new experience.

Everyone from the building was there: Auntie Chalmers from across the landing but Jack was not there - I wondered where he was in his aeroplane; William and his grandparents; the butcher, his wife and their daughter Margaret who was a friend of my mummy; the Potters from the house below and their cousins from the next close; Mrs Brown, her husband; Mrs Aitken and her daughter, an older girl, not one of my playmates. "Never ask where her daddy is," I'd been warned.

The heat was almost searing as I was carried closer to this exciting vision.

Everyone was in a happy mood, singing, dancing and waving their arms above their heads. I had never seen anything like it.