Street Kid: One Child’s Desperate Fight for Survival. Judy Westwater

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Название Street Kid: One Child’s Desperate Fight for Survival
Автор произведения Judy Westwater
Жанр Секс и семейная психология
Серия
Издательство Секс и семейная психология
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007279999



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       Street Kid

       One Child’s Desperate Fight for Survival

       JUDY WESTWATER

      With Wanda Carter

      

      FOR MY TREASURED FAMILY

      

      My beloved children Jude, David, Carrie and Erin

      and all my beautiful grandchildren

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-one

       Chapter Twenty-two

       Chapter Twenty-three

       Chapter Twenty-four

       Chapter Twenty-five

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Pegasus Children’s Trust

       One Child by Torey Hayden

       The Little Prisoner by Jane Elliott

       Hannah’s Gift by Maria Housden

       The Choice by Bernadette Bohan

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Was two when Mum and Dad deserted us, leaving Mary, Dora, and me alone in the house for seven weeks without food, light or coal for the fire.

      I was born in Cheshire in 1945 and although the war had ended that year, it had been a battleground in our house whenever my parents were together. When my dad wasn’t working in a factory he was dressed up in a herringbone tweed suit preaching at local spiritualist church gatherings. It was only when my mother married him that she realised what a nasty piece of work he really was but she still managed to have three kids with Dad before she decided she’d be better off with her Irish boyfriend, Paddy.

      When Mum ran off she took with her our identity cards and allowance books. She must have thought that my father would see to it that Mary, Dora and I were fed and clothed but all he did when he realised he was saddled with us was ask our next door neighbour, Mrs Herring, to look in on us every so often and check we were okay. He said he’d be back the next weekend but he didn’t keep his promise.

      So that was how the three of us came to be left in the house alone.

      Mary was seven, and the oldest. I reckon that as soon as I was born, I knew better than to cry for my mother: it was always Mary who’d looked after me and Dora. Mrs Herring looked in on us now and then, letting us have whatever scraps she could spare; but it was Mary that kept us going. She must have longed for a mother’s care herself, especially when she had to go to school in such a terrible state. All the teachers were appalled that she was so dirty, and they’d often have her up in front of all the class to tell her off.

      One day it got so bad for Mary that she dragged our tin bath into the living room, put it in front of the fireplace, and started filling it with cold water. She pulled me up from the hearth, where I was eating ashes, and said, ‘Come on, we’ve got to get you dressed. We’ve got to go and look for Mummy.’

      We went out and made our way to the market, which wasn’t far from our house. It was cold; my feet were bare; and all the clothes hanging from the stalls were flapping in my face. I kept looking