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

After that cup of tea I wanted to go to the toilet again, but I was apprehensive to go out of my room. What if Arnold saw me? So I sat and waited until I could wait no longer. I opened my door a crack. Downstairs I could hear them both talking – Arnold’s voice curt and loud against Pearl’s softer tones. I tiptoed out onto the landing. But where was the toilet? I’d forgotten already. All the doors were closed and I didn’t know what to do.

Just then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and dashed back into my room, fearing the worse. But it was all right: it was Pearl who came in. I was so relieved that I blurted out: ‘Can I go to the toilet?’

‘Yes, of course you can,’ she smiled. ‘Go whenever you need to.’

‘I can’t remember which door!’ I explained, in an anguished state.

She showed me and I came back to find her getting out the hand-me-down pyjamas from a drawer

‘Time for a bath and bed,’ she said. ‘You’ve had a long day. I thought you might feel more comfortable in your familiar things the first night.’

I was grateful for her thoughtfulness. It had indeed been a long and difficult day.

Pearl took me through to the bathroom and turned on the bath taps, then helped me to undress. As she tested the water, I noticed the red patches with bluish tinges beginning to show on my arms and legs. I’m sure there must have been some on my back too, because that was sore all over, but there was no mirror to check. I climbed into the lovely warm bath that immediately started to soothe my tired, battered body. Pearl passed me a large sponge and some soap. At Field House I had been used to splashing about and having fun in the bath, with the other boys coming in and out to wash and clean their teeth, chatting and laughing in the background, while one of the housemothers washed me all over. But now, here, it was dead quiet and I had a sudden urge to make some noise, so I slapped my hand down into the water and made a big splash.

Immediately, Pearl flinched. ‘We have to be quiet,’ she explained. ‘Arnold doesn’t like noise.’

So, no more splashing. I sat still while she soaped the sponge and washed my face first, then my body.

‘Poor boy,’ she said in her soft voice as she lightly washed over my tender skin. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think those bruises will show when you have your clothes on tomorrow. You’ll be able to go out and meet the other children, make friends and play with them if you want. That will be nice, won’t it? But first, a good night’s sleep will do you a lot of good.’

‘Thank you,’ I whispered as she helped me out of the bath and wrapped me up in my big bath towel, then gently rubbed me dry.

I put on the Field House pyjamas and we went back to my bedroom, where she tucked me into bed and put out the light. No story to lull me to sleep, no other children to keep me company …

‘Sleep well,’ she said and left me alone in the dark – hungry, hurting and in a state of high anxiety. It was only now that I realised I had never been in a room on my own before and I didn’t like it. At not yet five years old, I remember feeling overwhelmed. I was still shocked and confused by Arnold’s cruel beating when I was sick that afternoon – I didn’t understand. Worst still, after my bath I could feel more strongly the tender bruises all over my body, especially my back. Arnold’s attack and the long, car-sick journey had made me very tired. My tummy still cried out for food, but it didn’t look as if I would have any tonight. I tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress to try and find a comfortable position. I was miserable but, despite it all, I soon fell into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares. It must have been one of those that woke me.

Immediately, I was upset still to be here, alone and bereft. I must have been disoriented in a strange room, the pale glow of the street lamp through my flimsy curtains casting eerie shadows, distorting everything around me. Though scared of the shadows, I was even more afraid of Arnold. He had become the ogre of my nightmares, but now that I was awake, I realised afresh that he was real, terribly real.

At that moment, I wet the bed. I couldn’t stop myself.

Oh no!

At Field House, one of our lovely housemothers would have come in and comforted me with loving care, but not here. I cried in panic, trying desperately not to make any noise, but I couldn’t stop myself sobbing.

I heard a creak on the landing. The door burst open and Arnold stormed in, towering over me, shouting and swearing. I can’t remember most of what he said that night, especially the swear words, which I’d never heard before, but one or two things stood out, though I didn’t understand them.

‘You little bastard!’ he shouted at me as he pulled all my covers off. ‘Look what you’ve done! You don’t deserve our kindness in taking you in. Your parents didn’t want you, nobody wants you. You’re a bastard child, even God doesn’t want you!’

I cowered and sobbed more loudly.

Taking hold of my pyjamas in one hand and my ear in the other, he pulled me right out of bed and threw me onto the floor. As he yelled all the insults he could think of, I curled myself up in a ball on the coconut mat, while he rained slaps and punches on me and kicked me again and again, as hard as he could with his bare feet.

He was in a frenzy. Instinctively, I put my hands round my head to protect myself, but my body hurt with every blow. At one point I think I soiled myself too, but I couldn’t help it – if only he would stop. I heard myself scream out for help, but that angered the monster even more. However, my scream must have woken Pearl as the door opened and in she came, with an anguished expression and tears streaming down her face.

‘Stop! Please stop!’ she wailed at Arnold. ‘You’ve done enough,’ she pleaded. ‘If you go back to bed, I’ll sort Richard out and clean everything up.’

Arnold still had hold of me in one hand, his other fist ready to punch me again, but suddenly he dropped me, stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

‘There, there,’ soothed Pearl. ‘He’s gone now, so let’s clean you up and make you comfortable again.’

She led me into the bathroom, carefully took off my wet, soiled pyjamas, gave me a good wash down and put the big towel round me to go back in the bedroom and keep warm while she got out the new pyjamas she had bought me. After unfolding them, she passed them to me to put on, while she stripped the bed and turned the mattress: new sheets and pillowcases made it all smell nice and fresh again.

She tucked me in and said goodnight with a sorrowful smile. I gave her a weak smile back, but I was still sobbing inside. My whole body ached and throbbed from the tyrant’s attack. She turned off the light and closed the door, leaving me crying quietly to myself, under the covers. I was so tired, but was it safe to sleep? Would he come back for another attack? It was only my first night here – would every night be the same? Sore all over, I curled up in my bed and cried myself silently to sleep.

CHAPTER 7

One Day at a Time

When I woke up the next morning – my first morning away from Field House – everything seemed calm, but I was wary. Stiff and aching, I sat up in bed and listened. All I could hear was the distant clinking of cups or plates, which seemed to come from downstairs in the kitchen, but no voices. Should I get up? No, I decided it might be safer to wait and see, but I didn’t have to wait long.

‘Richard?’ called Pearl’s voice up the stairs. ‘Arnold has gone to work. Are you awake?’

‘Yes. Shall I get dressed?’

‘I’ll come up.’

I heard her running lightly up the stairs and my door opened.

‘You can wear some of the new clothes I bought you, if you like,’ she said with a warm smile, getting them out for me to look at. ‘You choose.’

This was a first for me. I picked a pale blue short-sleeved shirt and some red shorts and she helped me put them on.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied, politely. In fact, I was more than hungry – I hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime, except for the one biscuit Pearl had given me. I imagined a big breakfast all laid out for me to choose from, with porridge or cereals, toast and fruit, so I gladly followed her downstairs. But the kitchen table was bare.

‘I’ll just put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea and I’ll butter you a slice of toast.’

So that was it – one slice of toast for my breakfast that first morning.

It was a great relief to me that Arnold had gone to work. Pearl seemed more relaxed too, as she chatted away to me at the kitchen table.

‘We have some nice neighbours,’ she told me. ‘And there are quite a few children living in our road, some of them are about your age. They often play together outside, so you must try and make friends with them if you can.’

‘Are there some boys?’ I asked.

‘Yes, and they play together very well. I’m sure you will enjoy that.’ Pearl poured us both a second cup of tea. ‘You’ll soon be ready to start school,’ she added. ‘The infants’ school is only just round the corner, behind our garden, so we’ll be able to walk there. The teachers are very nice. They’ll teach you to read and write and you’ll be able to learn all sorts of things.’ She paused to sip her tea. ‘What would you like to learn about?’

‘Cars,’ I said straight away. ‘And I love animals, so I’d like to learn more about them – especially insects. We had a lot of insects in the Japanese garden at Field House.’

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