came from stepping into the lobby every now and again when someone came to use the toilet, and sneaking a mouthful of water from the cold tap when I thought it was safe to do so. That was tricky because I couldn't allow there to be one bit of noise or mess. I would put my mouth right over the cold tap and turn it on very slowly and swallow back a mouthful, and then I'd resume my usual stance. Once I was caught right in the act. Helen sneaked up on me while I had my mouth over the tap, standing on my tiptoes. I thought I'd been so clever, that she was still in the living room. Just as I was about to swallow that delicious mouthful of cold water, a hand came whacking on to the back of my head and my teeth clattered against the tap. I felt them cutting through my lip and the water rushing up my nose as I choked and yelped all at once. My heart was racing and I was terrified. I waited for the onslaught, for the beating, for what was going to come next, but that time she didn't do anything more. 'Bed!' she shouted. 'Hands by your side!' I couldn't make sense of that either – this wasn't a punishment; this was luxury compared to standing all day. I was suspicious but just glad to have got away so lightly.
On the day of my punishment for not wringing out the blankets properly, I stood in the cold bathroom all day, from just after breakfast time. I heard the boys come home for something to eat at lunchtime then go out to play again. Later, I heard them coming back in for their tea, and then each of them wanted to use the toilet. I stepped out to let them in.
Then I was given some scraps of tea by Helen's eldest – the boy who had grown from that baby I used to watch her cuddle when she visited me in Barnardo's. He opened the door and put my plate and fork on the floor in front of me before saying, 'You've to leave the plate outside the door, pissy pants.' He shut the door and left, laughing at me. As I stood there, devouring every pathetic morsel on that plate, I could hear them all having tea and giggling and the telly in the background. Today I was on 'half rations' due to me being bad. This surprised me because normally when I was so bad, I'd get no food at all. But, that day, I was fed one slice of chopped pork, a few strands of spaghetti and a couple of chips. I licked the plate clean, put it outside the door as I was told then waited to see what would happen to me next.
After tea, one of the boys came and got the plate, and then they went back out to play as it was still summer. It must have been just after six o'clock when my Dad came home, as I'd heard the opening music of the six o'clock news on television just before I heard the key in the lock. Fortunately, the bathroom wasn't as cold as it was in winter but I was still cold after standing there, hardly moving, all day. As the front door opened, the torture for me was the sun shining down the lobby, and the sound of children playing out in the street. Why couldn't I be one of those normal kids who got to spend the long summer days playing rounders and hopscotch or skipping in the street? What was wrong with me?
I heard my Dad's footsteps coming up the bare floorboards of the lobby. As I listened, my heart raced with fear. I heard him putting his postbag in the cupboard halfway up the hallway. Through the frosted glass window of the bathroom door I watched his shape getting larger as he came nearer, then I watched it disappear as he went into the living room, the television becoming momentarily louder as he opened the door. I heard the kettle whistling for his ritual cup of tea and I heard their voices. It was, at first, just a muffled sound but then Helen's voice got louder and louder as she screamed at my Dad about me. I heard my name being yelled out over and over again. I thought how strange it was that she only called me by my name when she was talking about me and never to me.
This argument was much the same as any I'd overheard while sitting in
On the day of my punishment for not wringing out the blankets properly, I stood in the cold bathroom all day, from just after breakfast time. I heard the boys come home for something to eat at lunchtime then go out to play again. Later, I heard them coming back in for their tea, and then each of them wanted to use the toilet. I stepped out to let them in.
Then I was given some scraps of tea by Helen's eldest – the boy who had grown from that baby I used to watch her cuddle when she visited me in Barnardo's. He opened the door and put my plate and fork on the floor in front of me before saying, 'You've to leave the plate outside the door, pissy pants.' He shut the door and left, laughing at me. As I stood there, devouring every pathetic morsel on that plate, I could hear them all having tea and giggling and the telly in the background. Today I was on 'half rations' due to me being bad. This surprised me because normally when I was so bad, I'd get no food at all. But, that day, I was fed one slice of chopped pork, a few strands of spaghetti and a couple of chips. I licked the plate clean, put it outside the door as I was told then waited to see what would happen to me next.
After tea, one of the boys came and got the plate, and then they went back out to play as it was still summer. It must have been just after six o'clock when my Dad came home, as I'd heard the opening music of the six o'clock news on television just before I heard the key in the lock. Fortunately, the bathroom wasn't as cold as it was in winter but I was still cold after standing there, hardly moving, all day. As the front door opened, the torture for me was the sun shining down the lobby, and the sound of children playing out in the street. Why couldn't I be one of those normal kids who got to spend the long summer days playing rounders and hopscotch or skipping in the street? What was wrong with me?
I heard my Dad's footsteps coming up the bare floorboards of the lobby. As I listened, my heart raced with fear. I heard him putting his postbag in the cupboard halfway up the hallway. Through the frosted glass window of the bathroom door I watched his shape getting larger as he came nearer, then I watched it disappear as he went into the living room, the television becoming momentarily louder as he opened the door. I heard the kettle whistling for his ritual cup of tea and I heard their voices. It was, at first, just a muffled sound but then Helen's voice got louder and louder as she screamed at my Dad about me. I heard my name being yelled out over and over again. I thought how strange it was that she only called me by my name when she was talking about me and never to me.
This argument was much the same as any I'd overheard while sitting in
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