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Small and brown with darting eyes, the monkey sat on the man’s shoulder, its arms round his neck, its eyes following us as we passed by. We weren’t allowed to touch the monkey, but we could stop and watch it if it was moving about, which it often did, coming alive and showing off when it saw us approaching. It would twitch its fingers as if playing an instrument, then clamber around, doing somersaults. Sometimes it made a chattering sound, as if saying hello to us. This monkey was one of the highlights of our outings. Perhaps we were also a highlight of the monkey’s day, watching this straggly troupe of small children walk past, waving and calling out jolly greetings as we went by.
Finally, we climbed the lane to the top of the hills and there we could run free and play for hours, punctuated by sandwich breaks. The adults organised ball games for us to join in, but we didn’t have to, so I used to wander round looking for insects and rabbit holes.
At the end of the day, we packed everything up and set off on the long walk back to Field House, where we could look forward to a hot meal on our return, before a quick wash-down. We were so tired those evenings that we’d go straight to bed and lights out, then followed the deep sleep of exhaustion after a long, happy day.
The only other trip we ever went on while I was at Field House was quite a surprise. I must have been about four and a half when my housemother told me one morning to dress quickly because we were going on a special outing.
‘It’s just for the older ones,’ she explained. ‘We’re taking you to Hagley railway station to see a steam train coming through.’
‘What’s a steam train?’ I asked. I had heard of trains, but didn’t know what steam had to do with it and I was quite excited to find out.
There were just a few of us on this trip and we set off straight after breakfast, walking along the lanes to the station. As we approached, the road widened and we saw cars and other vehicles passing by. I had always loved playing with my little toy cars, so this was a fascination for me. Soon I started to recognise some of them from the models I and my friends played with. We saw a bus too – it was bigger than I expected and had a lovely chugging sort of sound.
Looking back, I suppose that was the purpose of the day for us, to experience noisier, busier surroundings, as the staff knew that one day soon, most of us would live in more urban surroundings and we would almost certainly need to take buses and trains and learn how to cross roads. Indeed, we were all lined up along the edge of the pavement and told to look right, left, right. Most of us had problems with that, so the staff came along and patted us all on our right shoulders. Then we had to practise crossing the road.
We walked through the station building and were introduced to the station master, who took us all out onto the platform.
‘Stand back,’ he said. ‘It’s very important, don’t go any nearer than this.’
So, we spread out in a line along the back of the platform and waited. I don’t think any of us children knew what was going to happen, so there was a lot of nervous anticipation. We listened to the announcement the station master made with his megaphone. That fascinated me in itself – the way it made his voice louder.
‘Look,’ said my housemother, pointing along the track into the distance. ‘Can you see the steam?’
‘Oh yes,’ I said, peering in that direction and seeing the white and grey cloud that seemed to be moving towards us. I was mystified that I couldn’t see the train itself, but that soon changed as it drew closer. Small at first, it grew bigger and bigger, turning into a roaring, snorting monster. The giant engine emerged from its steamy shroud as it pulled into the station with a squeal of brakes. I stood back with a gaping mouth, in awe of the noise, the steam and the pungent smell of burning coal in its fiery furnace. I remember being frightened of it – fascinated, but fearful. The whole station seemed to shake.
Once the train had stopped and people started to get out, I was able to see that it was painted in a dark green colour, very shiny with gold writing on it. From where I was standing, I was lucky enough to be able to see into the driver’s cab, where the train driver operated some shiny brass knobs and levers, while another man shovelled coal into the hungry furnace. I must have taken a step forward to get a better look, but my housemother immediately yet gently pulled me back.
New passengers boarded the train and settled into their carriages while the guard walked up and down, closing doors. Then he waved his flag, the engine fired up and the train began to move away, creeping slowly along the track, snorting bursts of steam as it went. The driver and his assistant leaned out of their cab and waved cheerily at us, followed by some of the passengers as their carriages moved past us. Of course, we all waved back like mad, which was great fun, waving and waving until the train had disappeared round a bend up the track.
That was an incredible day and I can still almost taste the coal dust, but I was glad at last to get back to the peace and quiet of Field House.
A day or two later, one of the housemothers brought in some second-hand model trains for us to play with and a book about steam trains that we gathered round to look at. Now we had not just the humming of car engines to make, but also the steam and roar, the squealing brakes and clanking noises of that amazing train as we shunted our new toy steam engines across the floor of our dormitory. It didn’t stop there either: for days afterwards, the lawn became our station and we became the trains.
Christmas was always a special occasion to brighten the winter months at Field House. None of us had families to spend Christmas with, so the housemothers did all they could to make it special for us, although they must have had their own families too.
There was no build-up like there is today. The first we knew of it being anything different was on Christmas Eve, when fir trees were brought in from somewhere in the grounds. One was placed in the girls’ dormitory, another in the boys’ and one in the dining room too. The tree in our room was almost up to the high ceiling and wide all around. I remember the lovely scent of the fir needles that pervaded the dormitory. The staff came in and decorated it for us while we watched them, our excitement mounting as they adorned the branches with glittery silver and red tinsel, gold-foil wrapped chocolate coins and, right at the top, a large silver star.
‘Tomorrow is Christmas Day,’ explained my housemother as she put me to bed that evening. ‘If you are all good boys, there will be some presents under the tree when you wake up in the morning and a chocolate coin for each of you. We will come in and give them out.’
This was such an exciting prospect that it was hard to get to sleep that evening, but finally, we all did, and sure enough, when we awoke it was Christmas Day and there were presents all around the bottom of the tree. We leapt out of our beds with squeals of delight, but three of the housemothers were already there too, so nobody had the chance to touch the presents until it was time.
‘You can all sit on the ends of your beds and look at the presents. There are enough for everybody and you can all choose one each, but no squabbling. I am sure you will share them with each other,’ said one of the housemothers.
I could hardly contain my excitement. The presents were all sorts of toys and games and cuddly things – none of them wrapped – so I remember casting my eyes across all this bounty to see if anything particularly appealed. We had been so well brought up to share and take turns that none of us were selfish enough to grab something that someone else wanted. If I chose something that another boy had his eyes on, he might say, ‘I would like that’, and I would give it to him.
‘Here you are,’ I would say. ‘I’ll choose something else.’ And the housemothers would smile at me and make sure I kept my next choice.
I remember the Christmas after my fourth birthday, how excited I was when I spotted something straight away that I would ask for as my choice. It was a round metal thing with coloured circles painted round it, a push-down button at the top and a sort of spike underneath. Having never seen one before, I wanted to know how it worked and what it did. I waited as patiently as I could until it was my turn, hoping desperately that nobody else would choose it first. Fortunately, it was still there, so I went and pointed at it.
‘That’s a spinning top,’ said one of the staff. ‘I’ll show you how it works, if you like.’
‘Yes, please!’ I exclaimed.
She came over and pressed down the button on the top, which sent the top spinning on its spike, so that the coloured circles made patterns. When it went fast they seemed to disappear, but when it slowed down it was wobbling about all over the place, which made me laugh. I loved that spinning top. It was the best toy ever and I played with it a lot, but I let the others have goes with it, too, just as I did with my two toy cars.
One of the other boys would say: ‘Please can I play with your red car?’
‘Yes, you can,’ I would reply.
He would play with it for a while, then he would bring it back and park it under my bed alongside my other car. It was the same if I asked to borrow anyone else’s toy. We were all very good at that, we all shared everything.
What I remember best about our wonderful Christmases at Field House was the food. To start with, the smell of roasting turkey wafted through the house. It was so enticing that I found it very hard to have to wait until lunchtime.
Finally, it was time to go into the dining room, where there was another tall Christmas tree, with tinsel and various other decorations hanging on it, including crackers. We jumped up and down to see the tables specially decorated with red tablecloths and strewn down the middle with more crackers. We were so excited to pull those, but we had to wait till after we’d finished eating. It was a lovely, heart-warming occasion and we had a delicious meal, piled up high. Even I felt full after just one plateful!
Later that afternoon, we all stood together and sang carols round the dining-room Christmas tree, with its lights twinkling. It was a magical time. Most of the housemothers were there, including mine, joining in with us as we sang ‘Away in a Manger’, ‘Once in Royal David’s City’, ‘Jingle Bells’and other well-known festive songs.
We all loved the whole, very special Christmas experience, but it didn’t last long. On Boxing Day the trees came down and everything went back to normal again, except we still had our presents to play with. And I loved my top – I enjoyed setting it off and watching it spin, round and round. I soon discovered that I could make it spin faster and longer if I wanted and after that I spent hours with it, perfecting the way I spun it.
Birthdays were celebrated in a low-key way. The staff would tell us ‘This is Richard’s birthday’ or ‘This is David’s birthday’ and at teatime there would be a cake with a single candle in it, whatever the age. The birthday child would blow out the candle and then we all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and that was all – no presents. What I hadn’t yet grasped was that with every birthday, the time when I would have to leave drew nearer. None of the children could stay at Field House beyond their fifth birthdays, so I was now perilously close to that time.
CHAPTER 4
Chosen (#ulink_a01d2101-c8b5-5a7e-8849-2f4f14c79c39)
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.
