Waif or Stray?: An Account of the Early Years of an Orphan

By Lilian Bowes

An account of the early years of an orphan - The author recounts her early life in pre-war England whilst in the care of the Church of England's Children's Society at three orphanages, St Deny's Home in Clitheroe, Audenshaw Girls' Home in Manchester and St Monica's in Ashbourne, together with her subsequent years, closing with more modern day diary entries of setting up life in Barrow-Upon-Humber.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781447605324

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Chapter 1

St Deny’s 1928-1936, Pimlico Road, Clitheroe, Lancashire

I was born Mary Dean in Manchester in nineteen twenty eight, and placed in the care of the Church of England Children’s Society where I remained until I was fifteen and a half years of age. Apparently there were at that time too many Marys in the home and so I was given the name Lily and I am still known as Lily, even today so many years later.

I spent the first eight years of my life at St Deny’s Home, Pimlico Road, Clitheroe in Lancashire. To me my childhood was normal. I lived in a beautiful house with about thirty other boys and girls ranging in ages from babies to teens. The house was large with spacious rooms. All the bedrooms had huge stone fireplaces beside which were the bells once used to summon servants when the house was a private residence. One of my earliest memories is being put to bed one evening along with eight other toddlers. After a while they all settled down to sleep — all except me — as the bell was near to my cot I decided to ring it to find out what would happen. Well the nurse came, checked the two cots nearest to the door and then arrived at my cot. She leant over me asking whether I was asleep, Yes Nurse I replied. She lifted the covers and gave me a quick tap on the thigh and a warning Don’t do that again. Needless to say I didn’t! However the vision in white leaning over me stayed with me for many years. I would be dropping off to sleep and with a start I would wake up and there it would be, finally ceasing when I was aged about twenty seven. It was while I was in the kitchen as an eight year old helping to mix the chicken feed that I realised how I had been discovered to be the culprit in the bell ringing episode — one of the bells rang and a box at the end displayed a red light showing in which room someone was needed.

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What fun we had when it came to potty training time. A door from the kitchen led to a long passageway to the back door and to the bathroom where there were huge baths. We were placed six at a time on small enamel potties outside the kitchen door which was then firmly closed. After a while we would shoot off like the clappers down the passageway propelling ourselves along with feet and legs. Many a tip-up and spillage occurred especially on the turn. By the time it came to lift-off we were stuck fast with the suction and there were many red rings on little bottoms!

This lovely house boasted a nursery full of toys. Among them I remember two large rocking horses and a very grand doll’s house equipped with electric lights, which were a real novelty feature. We were only allowed to play with this under supervision. Kept in the hall was a large two seater pedal car complete with running boards, hand brake, petrol can and last but not least a delightful noisy horn. There was also a big brown bear that growled fiercely when a strap on its back was pulled. I was quite convinced that this was a real bear and viewed him with a certain amount of suspicion.

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Baths by the nursery fire were another happy occasion. Sitting in little tin baths and being lifted out and dried in big soft towels whilst sitting on someone’s knee.

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The house stood in pleasant gardens. At the side stood a shed full of more ‘rainy day’ toys, a sand pit and a chicken run, plus a large playground. To the front of the house lay a grassy patch with shrubs and a stone wall and to complete the picture a large tree under which we would sit and eat our meals when the weather was kind. Matron had a dog called Chummy and he would be bathed by the gardener and his boy, in the big bath in our bathroom. He would then be brought to Matron where she would be waiting for him under the tree with a big towel and his brush and comb. We children had much enjoyment from watching this as he would shake himself all over us and our squeals and laughter would ring out.

The only time we were allowed into the kitchen was when we helped mix the chicken feed. We took it in turns, two at a time mashing potato peelings and other boiled up scraps. Next handfuls of meal stirred in by cook. Last of all came the red corn — only one handful of this because, we were told, it was very expensive. Then the gardener came to take it all out to the chicken run. The run had by then been turned over by the two men with fork and spade. We would also help to collect the lovely brown eggs which we always had for Sunday tea with thick chunky buttered soldiers to dip into the egg, -ah lovely!

When the hens went off the lay they would be dispatched to the kitchen and new young chickens would arrive. Amongst one batch were a few cockerels and the scene that followed was like a clip from a Laurel and Hardy film. Both the chaps slithering and sliding all over the place, the cockerels cock-a-doodling and we children with our faces pressed against the wire mesh joined in the cock-a-doodling too. It was a riot and took such a long time to catch them, but oh, what fun we had!

In our playground alongside the kitchen door was a pantry where all our milk was delivered. In the winter it was cold in there but in the summer when it became very warm and as there were no fridges in those days all the milk had to be boiled. The pantry had stone benches all around on which the milk stood to cool in large bowls. When cold the skin was skimmed off and put into dishes and fed to us with a spoon. To this day I love skin on anything — especially rice pudding.

Every weekend a gentleman named Mr Walmsley would come to see us. We looked forward to his visits as he was great fun. He did lots of tricks with his hands, the one I remember most clearly was his bunny rabbit trick. He made the rabbit out of a handkerchief. When we stroked its long floppy ears it would suddenly come alive and jump all over him. He always brought a big bag of sweets with him but before we could have one he had to have a kiss from each of us which caused much giggling as his cheeks were so prickly. I believe that he owned a sweet shop.

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In the dining room over the fireplace was a large picture of a family, Mum, Dad and a boy and girl, sitting at a table having a meal. There they sat with their knives and forks high in the air and their elbows on the table. Beneath the picture were the words ‘BAD MANNERS’ - a constant reminder to us to behave well at the table.

This dining room was the venue for many concerts given by local people. One occasion I particularly remember was a Minstrel Show. The players appeared with painted faces playing banjos and we joined in their singing. One little boy was not very impressed however and was so petrified he was taken from the room screaming. May Day was a big celebration with the May Queen being crowned on our front lawn, followed by dancing round the maypole. It was a pretty sight, the dancers plaiting the coloured ribbons around the pole. We little ones were allowed to try afterwards which made us feel very special.

In the summer there was a pageant which wound its way through the town. We children were lucky as a local shop keeper stripped his window of all the goods displayed there and fixed tiered seating right across the window. This allowed us to get an uninterrupted view as no one was permitted to stand in front of us. The fire service joined in the procession and as they passed us they would squirt the shop front with water whilst we would be squealing and ducking and diving amid peals of laughter. When the procession arrived at the castle we would be up front again watching the knights of old, ladies of the court wearing gorgeous dresses, jesters