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CHAPTER 4

Chosen

November 1958 (aged 4) – Physically very fit. Sturdy. Speech fluent. Making much better progress. Is imaginative in play. Likes to play alone. Still has an occasional temper tantrum.

Field House progress report

Every now and then, we older children had to line up along the lawn. Now four and a half years old, I was aware that, after these line-ups, children sometimes left Field House, so I didn’t want to be in the line, but if I tried to hide, one of the staff would be sure to come and find me.

‘Come along, Richard. There are people coming to see you today,’ explained the housemother. ‘And they could become your mother and father. If they decide they would like you to be part of their family, they’ll be able to take you to live with them in their home. Wouldn’t that be lovely?’

I must have shrugged or shown my indifference in some way. I know she wanted me to be excited, and I should have been, shouldn’t I? Some children were, but not me. I didn’t want anything to change, I wanted to stay at Field House for ever.

But the housemother had to get me into the line, so she took a different approach.

‘It won’t take long, then you can go and play again.’

‘Oh, all right,’ I reluctantly agreed.

So, she encouraged me to change, and dressed in my ‘Sunday best’, mainly charity clothes, I joined the line-up on the lawn outside Field House, my eyes staring at the ground and my insides trembling lest someone should pick me.

Couples arrived and joined one of the housemothers to walk along the line, looking at each of us and whispering to each other as they went by. Occasionally, they would stop and talk to a child, then they might ask to take that child for a walk around the grounds. It was all rather unnerving and I was always highly relieved when nobody picked me and I could indeed run off and play.

On one of these line-up days, a couple did stop and talk to me. I think they just asked me my name, how old I was and what I liked doing best. They seemed happy with my answers and turned to the housemother.

‘Can we take him for a walk and get to know him better?’ asked the woman.

So off we went. I told them I liked cars, so they took me to see their big green car, parked in the drive. It looked a funny shape, like a shiny green bell. The man opened the bonnet and showed me the engine, which was quite exciting.

‘Where else shall we go?’ asked the woman. ‘Is there anything you would like to show us?’

My first idea was the Japanese garden, but I thought they might like that too much and take me away.

‘We could go round the lawn,’ I suggested.

The woman took my hand and I led them to my favourite parts of the garden.

‘This is my tree,’ I explained when we reached the tall cedar tree with its low branches. ‘I like to sit in this tree and eat burnt crusts.’

They exchanged glances.

‘Then I took them down the drive.

‘Sometimes we go for walks down to the lane,’ I said. ‘And up to the hills.’

‘That must be fun,’ said the woman.

‘Yes, we sing songs and eat sandwiches and see a man with a monkey.’

‘A monkey?’ asked the man. ‘A real monkey?’

‘Yes, he sits on the man’s shoulder when we walk past.’

There was a pause as we came to the bramble hedge.

‘This is where we pick blackberries,’ I told them. ‘We have little baskets and pick the fruit to put in a crumble.’

‘That sounds nice,’ the woman said. ‘What’s your favourite food?’

‘Steak pie and gravy,’ I said, licking my lips.

They kept on asking me questions, and I tried to be polite, but I wished they would go away and I could get back to playing. Finally, I think they gave up on me.

I was so happy that I ran three times round the lawn before going in for tea.

Although I didn’t want to be picked in these regular line-ups, sometimes, if they didn’t pick me, I would wonder, Why haven’t they chosen me? What’s wrong with me?

I knew that I was getting older and would soon be too old to stay at Field House, but I didn’t want to think about that – I couldn’t quite believe it.

My lovely, kind housemother sat me down one day.

‘Let’s have a talk,’ she said.

‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘No, not at all,’ she reassured me with a smile. ‘But you will soon be five, so it’s nearly time for you to leave Field House and move on,’ she explained. ‘If you don’t have a new mummy and daddy to take you out of the line next week, you will have to move to another house, maybe a house with lots of children, all much bigger and older than you.’

I didn’t like the sound of that.

‘Will you come with me?’ I asked.

‘No, I’m afraid that wouldn’t be allowed,’ she said in her gentle voice.

I thought about that a lot over the coming days and nights, but I couldn’t quite accept it. This was my home, the only home I had ever known. Why couldn’t I stay here? Finally, on the next line-up day, my housemother gave me some nearly-new clothes to put on.

‘Try and keep clean and tidy,’ she said, grinning. ‘No climbing trees today!’

The Matron herself spoke to me after breakfast: ‘Hello, Richard. I’m glad you are looking so smart today. I’m sure you will be glad to know that we have a couple coming to see you this afternoon, so we won’t have to put you in the line for long. They will come and choose you and then I want you to be a good boy and be polite to them and get to know them while you show them round the gardens. Will you be able to do that?’ She waited expectantly with a half-smile. I’d never seen her smiling even the smallest bit before, so I tried to be brave and smile back.

‘Yes, all right,’ I agreed.

So, we all lined up as usual and I was placed near the beginning this time. My housemother came out of the front door with a couple and they walked straight in my direction. This seemed very strange. They ignored all the other children and homed in on me. I suppose it must have been to do with my age and the fact that the staff wanted me to go to a family home, rather than a larger children’s home, so they thought they were doing this for the right reasons. I thought so too, as I was frightened of the idea of all the big boys there might be at the children’s home.

The couple walked over and stopped in front of me, just as Matron had said.

‘This is Richard,’ said the housemother. ‘He’s a happy boy and likes playing in the garden.’ She turned to me and introduced them. ‘This is Mr and Mrs Gallear,’ she told me. ‘Will you take them for a walk and show them round our gardens? They want to know all about you and the things you like.’

‘All right,’ I nodded uncertainly.

The woman was very short and she had a big smile. She seemed really pleased to be there and to see me. But the man wasn’t smiling. He stood back, towering over her.

‘Come on,’ she said in a friendly voice, taking my hand in hers. ‘My name is Pearl and Mr Gallear is called Arnold. Now, where will you take us first?’

As I walked out of the line, I looked back over my shoulder at all my friends, who watched me go away from them, across the lawn with these visitors – still strangers to me.

‘Would you like to see the vegetable garden?’ I asked them. ‘I love watching things grow in the garden.’

‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ Mrs Gallear said in a bright voice. ‘Wouldn’t it, Arnold?’

He grunted, with a slight nod and followed as I led his wife to the path.

‘That’s the boys’ dormitory.’ I pointed through the long window as we passed by. ‘I sleep next to this window.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Mrs Gallear. ‘How many of you are there?’

‘Ten of us,’ I replied. ‘All boys.’

When we reached the vegetable garden, I picked up a small can and watered a row of newly planted seeds. ‘These will be lettuces,’ I said proudly. ‘I helped the gardener sow the seeds.’

‘Well done,’ said Mrs Gallear with a beaming smile. ‘We have a garden at home. Maybe you could come and grow some lettuces in our garden too?’

‘Maybe,’ I agreed, looking sideways at Mr Gallear, unsure whether he wanted me doing anything in his garden.

As we wandered among the rows of vegetables, I looked at each of the visitors in turn. Pearl Gallear was small and slight, with short, dark grey, curly hair, though I don’t think she was very old. She wore glasses, a flowery dress and a long coat over the top. The thing I liked best about her was her smile. Thinking back now, it was a warm, genuine smile – I felt she really liked me.

Arnold Gallear had a serious face. He wore black-framed glasses and looked awfully tall to me, well-built but not much hair. It was only later, when he bent over to pick up a coin and put it in his pocket, that I saw the funny thing he’d done with his hair: he had a big bald spot and he’d combed thin strands of his light brown hair over the bald part. I longed for it to be windy and blow it all away.

‘Do you like vegetables?’ asked Pearl.

‘Yes, we have lovely vegetables every day with our lunch.’

‘Lucky you!’ she said with a tinkling laugh. ‘What other foods do you like?’

‘Steak pie,’ I said. ‘And puddings and gravy … and cakes and burnt bread crusts …’

‘Well,’ she laughed again, ‘I’m glad you enjoy your food!’

Pearl chatted to me all the time and made a very good impression on me. She was quiet, gentle and very kind – I really liked her.

I saw Arnold taking a sideways look at me. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. I felt unsure of him, because he wasn’t friendly and warm like Pearl. But I was pleased somebody was taking an interest in me – and Pearl certainly was.

‘Where else shall we go?’ she asked.

‘Come and see the Japanese garden,’ I suggested, leading them round to the side of the house and through the gate in the wall.

‘Ooh! Isn’t this beautiful?’ She seemed quite excited.

I took them round to look at the little waterfalls and showed them where the toad sometimes sat, but he wasn’t there that day. I told her what I had learnt about the plants and the animals that lived there.

‘Oh, you are a clever boy!’ said Pearl with an admiring look. ‘Isn’t he, Arnold?’

But Arnold grunted and turned his head away without saying anything. It might have been a ‘yes’ sort of grunt, but maybe not.

Finally, we went a little way down the drive and I told them about our summer outings to the Clent Hills.

‘This seems like a lovely place,’ said Pearl as we walked back towards the house.

‘Yes, I love it here,’ I grinned.

‘We’ve enjoyed talking to you,’ she said, which I thought was rather odd as Arnold hadn’t said a word. ‘But I’m afraid it’s time for us to go now. Perhaps we might be able to come and see you again. Would that be all right?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed readily. Pearl seemed to be a lovely woman – I thought I’d definitely prefer to be with her than with a lot of big boys in a home full of strangers. So, off they went and I ran in, just in time to wash my hands and join my friends for tea.

That night in the dormitory, getting into bed and falling asleep to another bedtime story that I didn’t hear the end of, I didn’t give the visitors another thought. The next day, I remembered they’d been and I wondered whether I would ever see them again. I would have liked to see Pearl, but wasn’t so sure about Arnold. And I didn’t want to hasten leaving my idyllic life with my friends and all the kind staff, so when nobody told me anything, I didn’t ask.

It must have been a few days later, maybe a week, when my housemother sat me down and told me: ‘Tomorrow, your new mother and father are going to come and collect you.’

I was shocked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you remember Mr and Mrs Gallear, the nice couple who came to see you last week?’

‘Yes, but nobody said anything, so I thought they didn’t like me.’

‘Well, they did like you and they want to take you home.’

‘Are they my real mother and father?’ I asked. Children in books always seemed to have mothers and fathers, so I assumed I must have too.

‘Not your birth mother and father, no, but they want to be your foster parents.’

‘I liked her, she was nice.’

‘Good. Well, they will be your foster parents – your foster mother and foster father. You will call them Mummy and Daddy.’

‘Oh.’

‘Won’t that be nice?’

‘Tomorrow?’ I asked, suddenly welling up with tears. ‘Does it have to be tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ she said gently, giving me a cuddle when she saw how upset I was. ‘Don’t worry, they are looking forward to taking you back with them to their house, which will become your new home. They will look after you. You’re going to have your own bedroom and you will have a lovely time making lots of new friends where they live.’

I couldn’t speak for crying. My stomach went all wobbly and I just couldn’t take all this in. I suppose I didn’t want to and it all seemed so sudden – I had no time at all.

‘Can I take my cars and my spinning top?’

‘Yes, of course you can. We’ll put them in your case to take with you. I expect you will have some more toys to play with at their house, and maybe some new clothes of your own too.’ She gave me another hug.

‘Can’t I stay here a bit longer?’

‘No, little soldier, I’m afraid you can’t, but they’re not coming till after lunch tomorrow, so you can enjoy all this afternoon and tomorrow morning in the garden. Have a good run round, play with your friends and sit in your favourite tree, whatever you like. I’ll come and find you out there when I’ve gathered all your things to pack, then we can talk some more. Would you like that?’

I nodded, as more tears trickled down my cheeks.

‘Here, take my hankie.’

It was a fine summer’s day and I walked around all my favourite places, ending up on a branch of the cedar tree. How could this happen to me? I knew others had gone to foster homes before me, but I couldn’t talk to any of them to find out if they were happy there.

At bedtime I was tearful and my housemother soothed my fears as best she could.

‘What if I don’t like it there?’ I asked her.

‘You will like it,’ she reassured me. ‘It may take you a little time to settle and get used to belonging to a proper family, getting to know them better, and all their routines. You’ll soon forget all about us. You will make new friends and I expect you’ll be starting school soon. You’ll love school, you can learn all sorts of new things at school.’

She did her best to inspire me with confidence, but it didn’t really work. For once, I didn’t fall asleep before the bedtime story finished – I don’t think I was even listening. As I lay in my bed with the lights out, a shaft of waning daylight shining across my bed from a crack in the curtains, I hoped against hope that when I woke up in the morning it would all be a dream and I wouldn’t have to leave after all.

1959–71: THE CRUEL YEARS

Richard at school, aged 8

CHAPTER 5

Goodbye to Happiness

July 1959 (4 years, 8 months) – Fine healthy boy. Much more stable and happier. Full of imagination, conversation, knowledge of everyday things.

Richard’s last progress report before leaving Field House

30 August 1959 was a beautiful sunny day, but it didn’t feel sunny to me. It was the day my cosy world fell apart. That afternoon I would have to leave the only home I’d ever known – a happy home of fun and laughter with my friends, a secure place where every adult loved us and cared for us. I knew nothing of my beginnings, but I did know I didn’t want to leave Field House. I didn’t want to go and live anywhere else, I wanted to stay there for ever.

It was my last morning so I went to all my favourite places. First, to the vegetable garden, where I had ‘helped’ so often. Everything was growing well, including ‘my’ lettuces, poking up through the soil, and the runner beans I’d planted and watched growing up their canes.

‘I’m leaving today,’ I told the kindly gardener, trying to put on a brave face.

‘Are you now?’ he said. ‘We’ll miss you.’ He paused. ‘Have you got time to pick a few of these beans for the kitchen before you go? Then you can eat them for lunch.’

‘Yes, please,’ I said, perking up at the thought.

Next, I visited the Japanese garden and said goodbye to my friend the toad, who sat and croaked as if he understood.

The rest of the morning went far too quickly and when I went in for lunch, I was overjoyed that it was steak pie, mash and gravy with ‘my’ beans. It was all delicious, so I had another helping.

The housemother at our table told the other boys that I was leaving and they all came up to say goodbye to me as we left the dining room. I didn’t like them saying goodbye – I didn’t want to say goodbye, I didn’t want to go.

Finally, I went to my dormitory, where my housemother was packing my few belongings into a little, scuffed leather suitcase and ticking them off on a list.

‘I’ve packed some spare clothes for you,’ she explained in her kindest voice. I didn’t realise it at the time, but perhaps she didn’t want me to go either. ‘I’ve put in your favourite toys too.’

‘My cars?’ I asked.

‘Yes, both your cars and your spinning top.’

I pulled open the drawer by my bed: it was empty.

‘Where are my conkers?’ I asked, my anxiety rising.

‘In your case.’

I tried desperately to think what else I might need. Then I realised …

‘Where’s Jeffrey?’ I wailed. ‘My teddy!’ I felt under my bedcovers for him. ‘He’s not in my bed, I can’t go without him.’ I was panicking now.

‘It’s all right,’ she tried to soothe me. ‘Jeffrey is in the case too – I knew you wouldn’t want to go without him. I had to squash him in, but I think he’ll recover all right. I expect he’s a bit worried about going to a new home too.’

‘Oh, really?’ I hadn’t thought of that.

‘I’m sure we have packed everything now,’ she reassured me. ‘Let me give you a big hug.’ She put her arms round me and for those last few moments I felt secure. Would I feel like this with my new foster mother, in my new home? I had to hope so. I held on for as long as I could, then she gently pulled away.

‘Come on, it’s time to go.’

At two o’clock that afternoon, we stood on the drive, my housemother holding my hand and carrying my case in her other hand. This was a terrible moment – the phrase ‘gut-wrenching’ comes to mind when I think back to the forlorn little boy I was, standing, waiting.

‘They’ll be here in a minute or two,’ she said. ‘Now, I want you to be a good boy and be happy in your new home.’

I couldn’t say anything, so I just nodded.

‘You will have a good life and a good future with your foster parents.’

But I hardly knew them. I screwed up my eyes and hoped to vanish, but when I opened them again, I was still there.

The crunch of the gravel heralded the approach of a vehicle, which suddenly came into view and parked beside the house. I recognised it because one of the other boys had a toy version that looked the same. A small Ford van, it was hand-painted in two shades of blue. My housemother squeezed my hand and we walked across together. It wasn’t far and yet it seemed like a huge gulf of despair to me. I knew I had to try and be very brave.

Mr and Mrs Gallear both got out of the van and Pearl gave me a lovely smile and a wave. I immediately felt all right with her. If only Arnold looked happier to see me, I might have felt a bit better, but he wore the same stern, distant expression that he’d had the first time they came. I felt instinctively that he didn’t like me, which made me feel very uncomfortable. At that moment, young as I was, I knew it was Pearl who wanted me, not her husband.

‘Wave back to your foster mother,’ coaxed my housemother.

I did a little wave to her, but I felt too sad to smile.

As we walked towards them, Pearl came to meet us, wearing another flowery summer dress. She looked lovely, walking with footsteps as dainty as a dancer and beaming her happy smile at me. But standing by the van, like a dark shadow in the background, was Arnold, who was not even looking at me. Though I tried my best not to cry, I was sobbing inside. I clung to my housemother, but she gently released my grip and knelt down, with Pearl standing next to her, looking anxious.

‘Be a brave boy,’ said my housemother. ‘I won’t forget you and we will all be thinking of you, but these are your new parents and this is your new life.’ She stood again and passed my hand over to Pearl, who grasped it warmly, along with my little case.

‘There’s a list of Richard’s things in the top of the case, together with his medical notes for you to give to his new doctor.’

‘Thank you,’ said Pearl.

‘Off you go now,’ said my housemother. ‘You will be fine.’

I gave her a little wave and walked with Pearl to their van. In fact, I was focusing on it. From the little toy van one of my friends had, I knew there were only two front seats. Where would I sit? For a moment I hoped they would not have room for me and would leave me behind, but not so. Did Arnold know what I was thinking? As he walked round to the back and opened out the two rear doors my heart sank.

‘We’ve been looking forward to taking you home with us today,’ Pearl said with a smile and a squeeze of my hand. ‘We’ve put some carpet in the back of the van for you and a cushion to sit on,’ she explained. ‘To make you more comfortable.’

She gave him my case and he tossed it in the back. Now that my things were in there, I had to resign myself to going. I trusted Pearl, but I was wary of Arnold. At the time I didn’t know the word ‘vulnerable’, but that’s how I felt. I was reticent to clamber in, so Arnold lifted me up roughly and into the van, closing the doors behind me. Inside, I sat on the cushion with my legs stuck out in front. The only windows were at the front and little squares of glass in the rear doors, so I couldn’t see much either way.

Although I was fascinated by vehicles and knew that this was a Ford Thames van, I had never actually been inside any vehicle so this was all a new experience for me. Normally, I would have been excited, but not today. Arnold and Pearl got in and closed their doors. He started the engine and we were off. I had to put my hands out behind me so as not to fall off my cushion, going over the bumps.

As we went down the drive, I turned around to look through the back windows and saw Field House for the last time, receding and getting smaller as we went. Desperate to keep it in view, the tears running down my face, I craned my neck to see the building, my dormitory, the lawn, my friends and everyone I loved all disappearing for ever. Through the gates we went, round the bend and off down the drive towards the lane that led to the outside world. I was miserable – I had left behind everything I knew and loved and had no idea where they were taking me.

It was a very warm day and soon it became uncomfortably hot and airless in the back of the van. I struggled to keep my balance as we moved along the twisting country lanes. Before we had even reached the main road, my tummy started to feel like collywobbles inside and I began to feel ill – I think it must have been the upset and uncertainty.

Suddenly I was sick. I vomited all down the front of my clothes and my legs, onto the cushion, the carpet – everywhere. I started to cry in earnest now, as Arnold rammed on the brakes and Pearl turned around with a sympathetic glance.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said as Arnold pulled into the side of the road, muttering loudly. ‘Sorry,’ I repeated, ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’

But that was only the start of my troubles. As Pearl whispered soothing words, Arnold yelled, ‘You stupid child!’

He flung his door open and stomped round to the back of the van. As bad-tempered as he might be, I still thought he was going to clean me up and sort things out.

But I was wrong.

He yanked the doors open and with an angry face and staring eyes, dragged me out, down onto the ground. Then, right there on the gravel at the side of the road, he laid into me, fists flailing, blow after blow, shouting at me all the while.

‘How dare you make a mess like that, pouring out your filthy insides all over my van! You little brat!’ he shouted. ‘Haven’t they taught you how to behave?’

‘I didn’t m-m-mean it,’ I stammered. But he hit me all the harder.

I could understand why he was cross. I knew I shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t stop myself. Again and again he hit me, as I instinctively curled myself into a ball.

‘Sorry,’ I whimpered, again and again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it.’

There I was, a little boy, not yet five, and he was a big strong man, raining punches on me. He was out of control. I didn’t understand most of the words he said, but I heard Pearl’s protests. The tears were pouring down my face and I could tell from her voice that she was crying too.

‘Stop it, Arnold! Stop hitting him!’ she pleaded. ‘That’s enough. Please stop, you’re hurting the poor child. He’s only little, and he couldn’t help it – he was car sick.’

I was crying, she was crying, and still he hit me a few more times until he’d finally sated his rage. He stood back and Pearl leant down and gently helped me up, dabbing at my tears and washing the worst of the sick off me with some water and a hankie.

‘There, there,’ she tried to soothe me. ‘You must be hurting. We’ll sort you out properly and put some cream on your bruises when we get home.’

‘Stop feeding the brat that drivel,’ ordered Arnold, ‘we’ve got a long journey to do!’ He tore me away from her, frog-marched me round to the back of the van and this time he more or less threw me in and slammed the doors shut.

I was in shock, whimpering as quietly as I could, unable to believe or understand what had happened to me. No adult had ever hurt me in any way before, let alone hit me. I had never known fear of anyone. At Field House, I had always been treated with love and care by the wonderful staff, even when I was naughty. Already I missed them so much – I wanted to ask Pearl and Arnold to take me back there, but I didn’t dare.

Was this how my life would be from now on? Were all mums and dads like this? As we set off again, I nursed my bruised and battered body, but I couldn’t stop crying, even when he shouted at me to shut up. He clearly didn’t want me, yet they had chosen me.

The journey from Field House to the Gallears’ home in Birmingham was probably only about an hour and a half, but it seemed like for ever to me, in my misery and sickness, which didn’t stop. I was very nearly sick again, but somehow managed to prevent it, fearful of another beating. Worse still, I was trembling with the shock, the pain and humiliation. I did not understand: how could the lovely matron and housemothers let me go away with this evil man? Why did nobody protect me? I was sure they would have stopped him if they’d realised what he was like. If only I could tell them, I knew they would come and rescue me – but how could I let them know?

From the back of the van, I couldn’t see much of the changing landscape, from rural to urban as we went through the city, though I glimpsed enough to know this was like nothing I’d ever seen before – an alien landscape. The one thing I did notice, as we drove along, towering over everything else, were the huge black windowless buildings in the mid-distance, which I later found out were gas tanks. Finally, we seemed to leave the city behind and travelled down side roads lined with little brick boxes with windows, some of them joined together in rows.

‘Here we are,’ announced Pearl as the van slowed down, turned and came to a halt in what seemed to be a dead end (in fact, it was a driveway). ‘Welcome to your new home.’

From the back of the van, all I could see was a brick wall, so I didn’t reply. But I was highly relieved that the van had stopped and I hoped I wouldn’t feel sick any more. Arnold came round and threw open the back doors. Fresh air at last! But he stood there with a threatening scowl. Highly aware of the awful stench of vomit that covered me and the floor of the van, I desperately wanted to get away from it, to be outside, but I was reluctant to get out with that man standing by the open doors like a predator waiting to clutch his prey.

‘Hurry up and get out,’ he barked, ‘and bring your stinking things!’

I had no choice, so I jumped down in front of him into the afternoon sunshine. It felt as if my stomach leapt after me – I was so afraid. I remember that once I had steadied myself, I was glad of the breeze to waft away some of the smell. Arnold towered over me in a menacing way, the sun glinting sharp rays off his glasses. Pearl was unlocking the front door of a tiny house – well, it seemed tiny to me, attached to another house just the same.

Having spent all my life so far in Field House, with its huge rooms and wide windows, surrounded by acres of its own land, this was a strange sight.

‘Get inside!’ ordered Arnold. ‘You smell disgusting, get those stinking clothes off!’ he sneered.

I was surprised to see that Pearl looked almost as frightened of him as I was.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’ll take him in and sort him out.’

Arnold went off and she came to help me out.

‘You poor boy,’ she said in her soothing voice. ‘You must feel awful in those smelly clothes, we’ll soon clean you up and sort you out.’ She picked up my case and took me by the hand. ‘This is our house,’ she added. ‘It’s your house too now.’