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

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СКАЧАТЬ chair next to my cot. ‘Feeling better?’

      I told him that I was. Then Auntie Gertie leaned forward. ‘You’ve got a bit of something on your cheek, poppet.’ I’d only recently finished lunch. ‘Here, spit on this.’ She held out a hanky and I spat on it and she rubbed at my face. ‘There, all clean now,’ she said.

      They didn’t stay long and when I saw Uncle George stirring in his chair and glancing at his watch I turned to Auntie Gertie. ‘Can I go home with you?’ I asked. ‘Please!’

      ‘No chuck, not yet. You have to stay here a bit longer.’ She stroked my hand. I saw a look pass between her and George and I knew that my question had upset them both. Feeling too old and powerless to do anything made them feel unnerved and I didn’t think they’d come again to visit. The thought of me, small and vulnerable, in my hospital cot pleading for a home would, I sensed, become a painful memory that they’d want to push away.

      When they left, they blew kisses until they were out of sight. I had an immediate pang of homesickness when they left, but later on I felt comforted by their visit. I’d been sensitive to the fact that the other kids had been wondering what was so wrong with me that no one cared enough to come. Now I’d shown them that I did have friends after all.

      I must have been in hospital another week before Auntie Gertie and Uncle George came again. This time it was to take me home. As I sat on one of the little blue chairs in the ward, I wondered where I would be taken. I hoped I might be going back to the Roberts’ house, but instead we went to the shop. I was relieved that there was no sign of Freda or my father when we got there; and, as the flat was empty, Uncle George and Auntie Gertie stayed over that night to look after me.

      My father and Freda came back late in the afternoon the next day. I slipped quickly to my room and from there heard the row raging downstairs. The Roberts were really angry and I could pick out almost everything the four of them were saying.

      ‘We’ve been horribly deceived by you,’ Uncle George was saying. ‘We thought you were a trustworthy pair but you’re wicked, just wicked.’

      ‘Oh, and I suppose you know everything,’ Freda spat at him. ‘Mrs Craddock makes bloody sure of that.’

      ‘It wasn’t just her, Freda.’ It was Auntie Gertie’s turn. ‘Your fancy man’s wife came round to ours and told us every last detail. That poor little kiddie.’

      My heart turned to ice at Auntie Gertie’s words and my thoughts were spinning round and round, out of control. Mum came. She knew I was here. Why didn’t she take me home with her? I felt my heart breaking. Mum, you must have known how bad it was with him. Why didn’t you save me from them? Don’t you care for me at all?

      Over the next couple of days, a stream of serious-looking visitors came to the house. From under the table I could see men with polished brown shoes and pinstriped trousers pacing the living room, and ladies with court shoes and nylon stockings sitting with their legs crossed, gloves and handbags placed close to their heels. They asked my dad and Freda a lot of questions in serious-sounding voices. At some point, Mrs Craddock was called in for her pennyworth. She used the ‘chicken’ word a lot and clucked her tongue in disgust as she reported how badly Freda had treated me.

      The next thing I remember, I was on my own with Auntie Gertie and she was putting on my shoes and cardigan. The flat was quite empty. My dad and Freda had gone.

      The bell sounded at the shop door. ‘Here she is,’ said Auntie Gertie, taking my hand and ushering me through the shop. A young nun was standing just inside the door. ‘Now Judy, you be a good girl and go with this nice lady.’ She gave me a little hug and patted my back. It never occurred to me that this was a final goodbye and that I wouldn’t be coming back.

       Chapter Four

      I’d been many times to the gardens of St Joseph’s Orphanage. The flowers and trees kept on drawing me back. After a while, the nuns had got used to seeing me there. I never came close and they never bothered me.

      I hadn’t been inside the big, grey stone building since that first time. It still scared me. Now, as the nun led me through the polished hall, I wondered if I was going to be given bread and jam again. Instead, I was put in a large room and told to stay there and play. I didn’t understand what I was meant to do: I’d never been told to play before. I wanted to go back to the shop and hide under my table in the kitchen. Instead, I crawled into a gap between a bookcase and a piano and hid away there.

      It wasn’t long before a bell rang. The bell had always been my signal to return to the yard so I jumped up, ready to flee. But before I could do so, the young nun came back.

      I tried to wriggle past her, but she took me firmly by the hand.

      ‘You’re to stay here now, Judith. At the orphanage.’

      The nun then led me firmly by the hand down a long corridor to a huge echoey hall. It was full of children, all making their way to long tables laid with cutlery and glasses, jugs of water, and plates of bread. I was taken to a seat at one of the tables. There was another nun at the head of the table standing behind her chair, hands clasped in front of her. I didn’t know what I was meant to do, so I sat down. Seeing the plate of bread, and being used to scavenging for any food I could lay my hands on, I reached over and snatched a slice, hastily stuffing it into my mouth.

      I felt a hand yank me up by the back of my collar. ‘That is not how you behave here, Judith.’ The nun looked at me, sternly. ‘And the rest of you, be quiet.’ At that, all heads ducked down, eyes lowered.

      I stood up, instinctively realizing that I’d better copy the other children. Then a much older nun spoke from the table at the top of the room.

      ‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.’

      There was a murmured ‘Amen’ before everyone drew back their chairs and sat down. I did the same. Some older girls then brought bowls of stew and potatoes to the tables. They ladled it onto plates and I waited until the nun at the head of my table raised her fork to her mouth before I dared move. I had never used cutlery before so I dug in with my fingers, stuffing the stew and potatoes in my mouth. The other children stared.

      ‘Judith, you will not behave like that here,’ she said. ‘It’s certainly not the way to show our Lord how grateful you are.’

      I didn’t know what a lord was, or what grateful meant.

      After dinner, I was taken to the nursery by the nun who’d brought me back from the shop. The room was white and bare except for twenty cots standing against the walls. She took me over to one of them.

      ‘That’s your bed, Judith.’ She handed me a nighty. ‘Now, get undressed.’

      I did as I was told and the nun took my clothes away and brought me some others from a cupboard at the end of the room, putting them on the chair beside my cot. She waited while I got under the covers and then left the room without a word. I hunkered down so that only the top of my head showed above the covers. I wrapped my own arms around me for comfort, imagining they were Mary’s, and my breathing slowly steadied until finally I fell asleep.

      The next morning, the nun came in at first light and I got dressed with the others while she put the little СКАЧАТЬ