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

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.’