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

      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.

      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