The Forgotten Child: A little boy abandoned at birth. His fight for survival. A powerful true story.

‘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.’

I suppose I should have said something nice, instead I looked down at the ground and all I could see was concrete. I didn’t know that word, but it seemed to me that this hard stuff was everywhere – the driveway, the road surface, even on some of the houses. I had never seen anything like it. And the houses themselves were like toy houses.

I would soon come to realise this was a normal suburban road – a cul-de-sac – but I couldn’t see any wide green spaces or trees or distant hills, only a few small flowers in gardens down the road. Worse still, I could hear a continuous rumbling sound in the background, which I later found out was traffic. At Field House there had always been peace and quiet, except for the birdsong in the trees, so this was all a huge shock to me.

‘Let’s go inside,’ suggested Pearl, leading me in through the front door.

CHAPTER 6

The House of Dangers

Stepping into a small gloomy hallway, the first thing I noticed was the strong smell. I recognised it as a clean smell, similar to our bathroom at Field House. It was the smell of bleach. How strange that it should be in the hall of this house instead of beeswax polish. I suppose I thought everybody lived as we did, so now I would have to learn different ways.

Standing in the hallway with Pearl, I was wary of Arnold, standing behind us. She must have known.

‘Let’s go up to the bathroom first and clean you up properly,’ she said. She led the way up the stairs and straight into a clean white bathroom. ‘Take off all your clothes,’ she said, opening my case and getting out my change of summer clothes. She ran warm water into the basin and used soap and a flannel to wash me down, then dried me with a fluffy towel – much nicer than the scratchy old ones I’d been used to.

‘Can I go to the toilet?’ I asked, desperate by now.

‘Yes, of course, it’s just next door to the bathroom.’ She opened the door for me.

Meanwhile, she must have put my case in one of the bedrooms.

‘That’s better, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You’re all clean and smell nice again. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll show you round the house.’

We walked down the thin, red cord carpet running down the middle of the stairs. At the bottom the hall floor was covered in lino, with a flowery pattern. There were three doors from the hall, one of which was closed.

‘That’s the front room,’ explained Pearl, opening the door just wide enough for me to see a dark, formal room with old-fashioned furniture and quite a musty smell. ‘You’re not allowed to go in there on your own, only when one of us is with you.’ She quickly closed the door again.

‘This is the kitchen,’ she said, taking me through an open doorway to the back of the house. It seemed very clean and sparse. Again, there was a lino floor, with a different flowery pattern and a flowery mat in front of the sink. Almost everything in this house seemed to be floral!

‘This leads to the garage,’ she said, opening a door at the side of the kitchen. ‘You can play in there if you want to, when the weather is bad.’ She opened another, narrower door at the back. ‘And this is the pantry. We keep all of our food nice and cool in here.’ She opened that door to show me the shelves, stacked high with tins and packets of all shapes and sizes.

Being a boy who loved his food, I was relieved to see that they had so much of it stored away, but I was puzzled there were no cooking or baking smells in here. I was quite hungry by now, having not eaten since lunch, but I knew I would probably have to wait until it was a meal time.

‘We bought this house when it was newly built,’ said Pearl, ‘so we could choose to have a nice modern kitchen.’

I suppose it was very modern for its time, with a stainless-steel sink, cupboards and a small work surface, plus a Formica and tubular steel table and four matching chairs – all very neat and tidy.

‘This is our sitting room,’ she said, taking me back through the hall and opening the third door, which led into a lighter, airier room. ‘Arnold and I come and sit in here in the evenings.’ She indicated the sofa and two armchairs. Then I noticed the strange wooden cupboard thing in the corner, with a small piece of glass in the front.

‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing at it.

‘That’s our television.’

‘What’s a television?’

‘You switch it on and it shows moving pictures of things, like in the cinema.’

‘What’s a cinema?’ This was all new to me and my curious mind.

Pearl explained in more detail about films and television programmes, which intrigued me.

‘Does it have programmes for children?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied, lowering her voice. ‘But Arnold might not let you watch those.’ She didn’t explain why. ‘We don’t watch it much,’ she continued in a whisper. ‘Arnold doesn’t like most of the programmes they show.’

‘What do you like?’ I asked Pearl, innocently, too young to interpret her reticence.

She looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know,’ she eventually answered. ‘Arnold doesn’t like me watching it when he isn’t here – he likes to decide what we watch.’ She paused. ‘He likes Dixon of Dock Green, so we watch that.’

Just then there was a metallic noise. ‘What’s that?’ I asked, turning towards the corner of the room where it came from. That’s when I saw the cage and its yellow and green occupant. ‘You’ve got a budgie!’ I exclaimed. It was the first time I had smiled since I came into this house.

‘Yes, that’s Joey,’ she said.

‘We had a budgie at Field House,’ I told her. Then I turned to the bird and said, ‘Hello, Joey.’ He didn’t reply, but he cocked his head to one side as if interested in what I was saying. ‘Hello,’ I repeated.

‘He doesn’t talk,’ explained Pearl, ‘but I think he likes you.’

I was pleased because I could look forward to getting to know Joey and maybe teach him to say ‘hello’ – I would enjoy that.

Also at that end of the room was an oak gate-leg table and four chairs.

‘This is where we eat our Sunday lunch,’ explained Pearl. ‘The rest of the time we eat in the kitchen.’

There were two windows and a French door to the back garden. I looked outside to see if there was a lovely big lawn to run around and trees to climb, but I was disappointed. There was a concrete raised area and some steps down to a patch of grass, but it was very small and being a new house, there was nothing much growing there yet.

‘Now, let’s go back upstairs and I’ll show you where your bedroom is,’ suggested Pearl. ‘We can unpack your case.’

At the top of the stairs was a landing, a bathroom and three bedrooms. I’d already seen the bathroom, which was very small, but it had everything it needed. Pearl showed me where my toothbrush and face flannel could go and she’d bought a new pale blue towel.

‘It will be your towel,’ said Pearl. ‘Just for you.’

I was rather pleased with that as I’d never had a fluffy new towel of my own before.

‘This is our bedroom, Arnold’s and mine,’ she said, pointing to a closed door. ‘It’s at the front of the house. And there is the spare room.’ She pointed to another door.

‘Now, this is your bedroom,’ said Pearl, pushing the door open and ushering me in to a tiny room – everything seemed so small here.

While Pearl busied herself opening my case and checking all the things on the list were there, I looked round the room. The first thing I noticed was the lino on the floor – a plain, light grey colour, with a dark brown coconut mat next to the bed – not soft like a furry rug, this mat looked hard and scratchy. There were thin brown and white, flowery nylon curtains at the front window. They were see-through – the sort that stick to you every time you brush past them.

The furniture, a dark wooden bed, matching chest of drawers and wardrobe, took up most of the room.

‘Would you like to see what’s in your case now?’ asked Pearl. ‘You can unpack it, if you like, while I go downstairs and put the kettle on and we can have a nice cup of tea. Come down and join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.’

After she left the room, I lifted the lid of my little case and took everything out.

First, the few clothes, all of them washed and ironed, but, as usual, none of them new. I put them away in my drawers, along with a dressing gown, coat and shoes. My housemother had thought of everything. When I opened the bottom drawer, I saw several brand-new items of clothing, which Pearl must have bought specially for me. They were really smart and I looked forward to wearing those.

Finally, I went back to look in the bottom of my case, where I found Jeffrey and tucked him into my bed. There were my two little cars with their opening doors and metal wheels that used to send sparks flying when I raced them on the flagstones in Field House. I parked those under my bed, just as I’d always done. Then I got out my precious spinning top, which I put on the floor of my wardrobe. Right at the bottom of my case, some kind soul, probably my housemother, had put in a colouring book and some crayons. I was so pleased about that because it showed kindness and I would enjoy colouring in the pages every now and then.

Down the stairs I went, as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb Arnold, wherever he was. I went into the kitchen and Pearl pulled out a chair for me to sit on. She poured out two cups of tea and we sat there companionably, sipping and chatting. I liked that: I liked the tea – I’ve loved tea ever since – and I liked Pearl’s almost musical voice and her warm smile.

‘Did you finish unpacking?’ she asked. ‘And did you find the nice new clothes I bought you?’

‘Yes, thank you. Can I wear them tomorrow?’

‘Of course you can,’ she replied. ‘Would you like a biscuit?’

‘Ooh, yes please!’ It was a long time since I had eaten and now that my tummy had calmed down, I felt quite hungry.

‘Do you think you will like having your own bedroom?’ she asked me.

‘Yes,’ I said, nodding, though I really didn’t think I would like that, but I couldn’t say so. Ever since I was a baby, I had slept in a dormitory with my friends at Field House – I was a little afraid of how I would feel, being on my own so much here.

Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps. In an instant the cosy atmosphere changed as Arnold strode into the kitchen.

‘What’s he doing here?’ he asked, but didn’t wait for the answer. ‘Take him up to bed!’

‘Yes, Arnold.’ Pearl nodded nervously and turned to me. ‘Come along, I’ll take your cup of tea up for you.’

So off we went, up the stairs and into my room, where she put the cup down.

‘I must go and get Arnold’s tea ready,’ she explained. ‘I’ll come back up and put you to bed as soon as I can.’

I sat on the edge of my bed and watched her leave, closing the door behind her. Perhaps she would bring me something to eat too when she came back. Though I couldn’t tell the time yet, I knew from my tummy that it must be time for a good meal. After I had finished sipping what was left in my cup, I went over to the window. I gazed out at the view and discovered that my room was at the front of the house, though I could see nothing but brick and concrete houses along concrete streets, with rows of red rooftops, all looking the same. There was not a tree or hedge and hardly a blade of grass in sight. I’d never seen a view like this before: where could I run and play?

I went back to sit on my bed. The room was bare, with nothing to look at – no pictures on the walls, no picture-books anywhere either. I closed my eyes, wishing with all my heart that I was having a nightmare and I could wake up and be back where I belonged, in our big, light, cheerful bedroom in Field House with all my friends. I hardly dared open my eyes again, but when I did, I was still a stranger in a cold little space.