Family Of Four: 14 - Blanket Day Calamity
...Mummy and I were together in the dining-room when there was a knock on the door. At once it opened, and without waiting for a reply Miss Redman said, "You had better come at once, Mrs. Hirst. I don't know what has happened but I opened the kitchen door and smoke poured out, and I could hear Emily moaning''...
Mrs Vivien Hirst, continuing the story of her childhood in a Yorkshire mill town, tells of a "blanket day'' disaster.
Mrs Hirst's nephew, Raymond Prior, arranged for the publication of her memories.
On two days in the summer, chosen with care so as not to be too sunny, or too windy, the blankets were washed in their turn, which was a great undertaking.
On one never-to-be-forgotten afternoon of such a day, Mummy and I were together in the dining-room when there was a knock on the door. At once it opened, and without waiting for a reply Miss Redman said, "You had better come at once, Mrs. Hirst. I don't know what has happened but I opened the kitchen door and smoke poured out, and I could hear Emily moaning."
Mummy rose immediately and joined Miss Redman, I following with my heart beating rapidly. This looked to me as though the kitchen were on fire! The two women went towards the kitchen but I stood rooted. I saw the door opened and smoke billowing out, and to this day I feel ashamed that I ran at once, the opposite way, to the front door! With my hand on the knob I heard Mummy call, "Go quickly and fetch Daddy, he is at the bowling green."
I was off like an arrow from the bow, my heart pounding, and forcing my trembling legs to give of their utmost. I was a good runner, and with my mind imagining my home was burning down, I ran as never before. Down the hill, along the main road, in at the gate, along the path without pause, straight on to the smooth velvet of the green.
Daddy was ahead and, looking neither to right nor left, I pelted up to him. "Good gracious, child," said Sir Ernest Martin, one of the four playing together, twinkling at me in my impetuous rush, "whatever is the matter, is the house on fire?" never dreaming he was so near the truth.
"Yes! Yes!" I gasped. Daddy gripped my shoulders. I nodded, and my face told its own story. With an exclamation Daddy put his old running prowess into practice. I, turning, followed and ran as hard as my short breathing would allow. Panting up the road I dared not look as I expected smoke and flames to be rising high in the air.
However, as I turned in at the gate all was as usual, to my infinite relief. I went to the kitchen and there was a sorry sight. Still hanging on the horses and the creel were several blankets, black and scorched, or in long tatters. Everywhere was sooty, but there was no one about. Through the open window I could see Mummy and Miss Redman in the garden, busy shaking and hanging those blankets which seemed worth saving.
Joining them I enquired breathlessly, "Where are Daddy and Emily, and is Emily hurt?"
Mummy told me that Daddy had carried her all the way up to her attic bedroom, over his shoulder as the firemen do, which Mummy thought too much for him and said so quite angrily. "You had better go and see if you can help Daddy, Bibby," Mummy told me.
So I climbed the long flight of stairs and found Emily sobbing and gasping on her bed, and Daddy releasing her collar and belt.
"Take off her boots, Bibs," ordered Daddy, "she is greatly shocked, and we must get her into bed. Luckily her face and hair are only scorched."
Daddy had been a keen member of the St. John's Ambulance Brigade and he knew exactly what to do.
I had a very hard task as Emily's boots reached to her knees; she was a tall girl, and they were buttoned all the way up. I laboriously undid one button after another. It seemed to take an age, but at last, with Daddy's help, I drew off her boots. Oh! and how her feet smelled. Always I have remembered that smell.
It took a few days to clean the kitchen, and we were told how it had all happened. After the blankets were washed and hung about - many in the garden, the overflow around the fire - Emily made her way upstairs to wash and change, but on re-entering the kitchen she saw to her annoyance that the fire had practically died out.
Without more ado she seized a large tin of paraffin from the scullery, and poured its liquid upon the fire. With a great roar and a burst, sheets of flames flared out and caught poor Emily and the nearest blankets. With the surprise and shock she fell to the ground, groaning, and clutching her face, and when Mummy and Miss Redman found her they had to draw her away, and beat out the smouldering blankets.
Fortunately they were still a little damp; had they been dry, and airing off round the fire, the damage might have been truly disastrous. As it was, Emily was lucky not to be badly burned.
This was my first alarm of fire, and although I was only five years old I remember it vividly.
