Zahra Al-Attrash Johnson evacuee, aged 13 BY LEILA RASHEED
September 1939
T
he clouds were thick with rain when we finally got to Cambridge. The train stopped and we all tumbled out on to the platform. Mo, my little brother, clung onto my hand. He was only five, and the label around his neck was almost as big as he was. I didn’t know where to go or what to do, and I couldn’t see our teacher anywhere in the crowd. I looked around, trying not to show how
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