A Test of Strength

By Christine Moran-Wall

From surviving childhood trauma and confiding in her doll to cope with the abuse of her father, to giving birth to a child with spina bifida at age 19, this Australian woman’s life has been marked by strength and determination. She shares her inspiring story of triumph, including her pride at winning the title of Mrs NSW in a quest to raise funds for disabled children and her bravery in facing stage three breast cancer. But her strength is tested to its limits with the heartbreaking loss of two grown children, and she shares the spiritual signs that bring her comfort during her emotional journey of writing her life’s story. This is a brutally honest and uplifting autobiography of one woman’s determination to overcome the obstacles life throws her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035805761

Christine Moran-Wall

Christine has a positive attitude and with her strength and determination, has helped her to succeed in her life. It is not in her nature to give up or give in. Her love of her children and friends, has given her a nurturing quality. She has a caring heart, though strong resilience to any wrongdoing. Her love of nature and her crafts has given her happiness and purpose.

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About the Author

Christine has a positive attitude and with her strength and determination, has helped her to succeed in her life. It is not in her nature to give up or give in. Her love of her children and friends, has given her a nurturing quality. She has a caring heart, though strong resilience to any wrongdoing. Her love of nature and her crafts has given her happiness and purpose.

Dedication

I dedicate my autobiography to my beautiful daughter, Danielle, who inspired me in so many ways, and continually encouraged me to write my life’s story.

Love of my heart.

Copyright Information ©

Christine Moran-Wall 2023

The right of Christine Moran-Wall to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of the author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035805754 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035805761 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

I would like to express my gratitude to Caron Jowett for her wonderful words of encouragement; she helped me through some difficult parts of my life’s story while typing every word I had handwritten in my first draft.

For my beautiful daughter, Kim. Your struggle throughout your life was challenging though you took it on the chin and made us laugh. Love always, my darling.

For my husband, Bill, who supported me during this long and difficult 11-year journey. He was always there to listen, offer advice and shed a tear with me. Thank you, my love.

For my sons, Johnny and Darren; my sisters, Teresa and Kathy. Love always.

In Loving Memory of my mother, Jean. Always in my heart, with love.

Of my precious doll, Julie. You were my salvation and my best childhood friend! You remain in my memories and my heart.

Prologue

Through my life I managed, even as a small child, to find the strength I needed to get through some very difficult times. The determination to be happy and succeed in becoming a warm, loving and decent human being.

There are men and women all over the world who have been abused sexually, physically and mentally.

There is no excuse for abuse in any shape or form.

In the past 20 years, many of these people have come forward and have taken a stand against the perpetrators who have violated their lives.

Finally, the world is listening, and the law is seeking out these people and bringing them to justice.

There may be parts of my memoir that readers may relate to. I truly hope you find strength and inspiration from reading my story.

My Life’s Story

I’m sitting here with both my daughters’ photos in front of me. I am thinking of how many times my youngest daughter Danielle would say to me, Mum, you should write a memoir. She would say this after me telling her about parts of my life, from a small child. So here I am, my beautiful girl, writing my memoir.

Chapter 1

The year was 1949, four years after World War II had ended. People were enjoying life again with plenty of jobs available, new shops opening and mannequins in shop windows adorned with the latest fashion trends. Life was good. It was on the 17th August this year I came into the world. I was the second child born. Our family initially rented a large shed/dwelling at the back of a house because we were quite poor during those earlier years.

Chapter 2

My mother was one of six children—three boys and three girls and she was the fourth child. Sadly, my grandmother died at the age of thirty-six, from leukaemia, and as my grandfather could not look after all six children, my mother aged eight and two of her younger siblings were placed in a Catholic orphanage in Goulburn, New South Wales. The three older siblings stayed with my grandfather. They were the lucky ones!

The winters were very cold in Goulburn, sometimes it was below zero degrees. The nuns were malicious and unfeeling, and my mother told me some horrific stories of her time at the orphanage. She would always keep a watchful eye over her baby sister Vallie who was four years younger than her. As Vallie often wet her bed, my mum hid the sheets from the nuns out of fear, as she knew her little sister would be punished. However, the nuns always found them and did the most horrendous things to both of them as punishment. The punishment she bitterly remembered, was when they put them in cold baths with ice. This made them sick and the only saving grace was that it was in summer and not winter when this punishment was given. They were also made to go without food for long periods of time.

There was another little girl my mum cared for at the orphanage, she said her name was Mary, who was about the same age as Vallie. She also wet her bed. The nuns had no patience with bedwetters! For this, the little children suffered terribly harsh punishments. My mother overheard the nuns yelling at Mary, after she had wet her bed after numerous times. Mary’s screams were heard through the corridors. Mum said that on that early morning it was the last time they ever saw little Mary! She also remembered herself and other children being pulled around by the hair, while crying and screaming. One time my mother had to kneel on the cold concrete outdoors in the middle of winter for hours because she was caught talking when she shouldn’t have been. She suffered with pain in her knees for the rest of her life.

Mum told me they were always getting sick and had bad colds. The children were dressed well when they had visitors and were always afraid to tell of the nun’s cruelty for fear of yet another punishment. The orphanage was a terrible place to live for my mother, Vallie and all the other little children. It had a devastating effect on them for the rest of their lives. She and Vallie left the orphanage in 1945, when she was 15 years old, and lived with her aunty Lizzy, who was her mother’s sister.

My mother met my father when she was 16 years of age and he was twenty-three years of age. One year later, they were married, after she had fallen pregnant. Her father would not give his permission for her to marry, so my mum’s auntie Lizzy gave her permission. They were married in a registry office, with her aunty being their witness.

My brother John was born two months after my mum turned eighteen years old. Fourteen months later, I was born. My mother had six children, and just like her mother, she had three boys and three girls. After me, came Dennis, Teresa, Kathy and Greg. Sadly, my little brother Dennis died at the age of 2½ years of age, from a brain haemorrhage. I have vague memories of him: one is when I’m holding his hand running under the garden hose held by my mother on a hot summer’s day. I was fifteen months older than Dennis.

Chapter 3

Stolen Innocence

It’s early August 1953, when my parents bought a milk bar. My father was a landscape gardener and his business was thriving, which gave them enough capital to invest in the milk bar. My mother worked in the shop with hired help, while my father continued with his landscaping business. The milk bar was in Kogarah, a suburb of NSW. We lived on the premises with the kitchen, dining and living room upstairs. The bedrooms, bathroom and laundry were downstairs, and a short hallway led to the three bedrooms. Double doors from my parent’s bedroom opened out onto a wooden veranda, with steps leading down to the back yard, which was a combination of dirt, grass and weeds. There was an outside toilet to the rear of the yard. Backyard gates opened out into a lane way access, shared by two other business owners.

A short time after moving into our new premises, I turned four years old. I can remember this birthday so well because it was the day Julie came into my life. She was a beautiful doll with brown wavy hair, pretty clothes and shoes. She was also really tall and when standing, came up to my shoulder. Julie was given to me by my mother. I was so excitement and jumped with joy on seeing this beautiful doll which was now mine. At that point, I did not realise that she would become a significant part of my young life.

I don’t know why I named her Julie! But she was to become my best friend. I did not realise then how I would need to find and gain so much strength to live a happy existence. I would tell her all my secrets and play make-believe games pretending to be, not me, but some other little girl!

One day I was happily playing near the storeroom in our backyard. I struggled pulling a little wicker chair out from there for Julie to sit in, while she watched me play. Suddenly, I heard the sound of my daddy’s voice calling me from the backyard toilet, which was tucked around the corner of the yard out of sight from where I was playing. I obediently went to him. What took place in that toilet was something I will never forget. It was confusing and hard to believe as he was my daddy. A voice deep inside me told me that daddies were not meant to do things like this to their little girls. With tears welling in my eyes, I struggled anxiously trying to push Daddy’s hands away. He sat me on his lap with my legs straddled, while he rubbed his penis onto my private parts. The tears were falling now, as I said, No Daddy! Nooo Daddy!

Suddenly, I heard my mummy’s panicked voice calling my name! She was probably thinking I had wandered out the back gate. She wrenched the door open with a bang! As she stood there, horror on her face, anger in her eyes she screeched the shrilling words, Alan, what are you doing? Mummy dragged me from his lap, and while yanking me out the door, yelled angrily, where are your panties?

Crying, I replied, Behind the toilet door! Are you angry with me, Mummy?

She replied in a gruff voice yelling, No, I’m angry with your daddy.

I really didn’t understand what had actually happened to me. With the aggression in her voice, I felt that she was angry with me and that I had done something very naughty. I yearned for the feel of my mother’s arms around me, to protect and love me, to make me feel safe. Sadly, this was the start of my journey. To fight for the strength, I would need to cope with what I would have to endure. The abuse became an ongoing nightmare and my mother never mentioned the incident again, nor asked me if Daddy was touching me in my private places. There was no escape and it changed my world forever. Many times, I had disturbing dreams and would wake up crying, pushing my face hard into the pillow hoping not to be heard.

There was an area under the shop which was used to store soft drinks and other non-perishable items. There was also room to have my tea parties and my own little concerts with my sisters, my youngest brother Greg and sometimes just with Julie. This was like my little escape, and I was back in my imaginary world, once again feeling safe and loved.

Julie

I saw Julie as a real person not a doll. Julie stood approximately two feet tall, had wavy brown hair, blue eyes, a little nose and pretty red lips. She wore a little pink and blue floral dress, with white shoes and pink socks. Julie always slept on the end of my bed and I would talk or sing to her. She helped me relax, as every night I trembled in my bed with fear waiting for the slow creak of the stairs, knowing it was my daddy coming to touch me in places that scared me and made me feel uncomfortable. I wished he would go away. I remember him whispering to me ‘Don’t you tell Mummy’. I was far too scared to tell my mother or anyone else. I held these secrets until I was well into my teens. The only little person who knew my secrets was Julie.

Chapter 4

First Day of School, February 1954

I woke up on a warm Tuesday morning in the bedroom I shared with my little sisters, Teresa and Kathy. Kathy slept in a cot as she was still too small to sleep in a bed. It was early morning when I woke, I looked up squinting as the morning light filtered through the tattered lace curtains hanging from the long narrow window. For the past week, almost every day I had been reminded by my brother John, as he kept chanting, Next week on Tuesday we go to school. It was the first day back after the Xmas holidays.

I was so excited as it was my first day of school. My little, dark-navy, box-pleated uniform hung over the wardrobe door, with a little white sleeve shirt that Mummy had left for me to get dressed in. My black shoes and white socks sat on the floor at the foot of my bed. I flung my sleeveless cotton nighty off and quickly dressed for school. I couldn’t manage the belt that would sit around my waist. I ran to Mummy for her assistance and she looked at me and smiled, saying, Look at you, you’re a little schoolgirl. Soon it was time to go. I picked up my brown school case and with my hand in Mummy’s, we set off with my older brother six-year-old John for the walk to school.

I was scared like a lot of other little girls and boys who were there for their first day at school. My tears streamed profusely down my cheeks when Mummy had to leave. But knowing my big brother was there with me, helped me get over my fears. At the end of the day, I couldn’t wait to show Mummy my beautiful drawings that I had made on my first day. Unfortunately, there was rarely any praise from our parents for the little masterpieces we created. Especially from my father—we were just there in the house and no more!

Happy family holidays with cousins

The first term of our school holidays had finally arrived, and we were on our way to see my mother’s sister, aunty Maureen, and her husband, uncle Frank. My mum put mattresses in the back of Dad’s truck so we could sleep on them on the long drive there. They lived in the Southern Highlands of NSW. They had two boys, Robert, who was eighteen months older than me, and Roger who was two years younger. When Robert’s mates came around, we often played card games, and our two favourites were snap and fish. I was always excited to play because I often won. All too soon, we were on our way home. Over the weeks that followed I would reflect on our visit to their house in the Southern Highlands, wishing I could have spent more time there.

Mummy-time and Xmas

I had been in school for one year and it was the Christmas holidays. I was really looking forward to Christmas and Santa coming. Mummy would put pillow slips out with our names on them for Santa to fill right to the top and then there were presents wrapped in pretty Christmas paper from Mummy and Daddy. I knew, however, that it was entirely Mummy’s doing. Christmas time as a child became my fondest memory. It was also a time we had Mummy spending so much time with us and I know I felt more loved. Mummy wasn’t a person who showed a lot of physical love, she showed it by spoiling us with presents on our birthdays and Christmas. I would sometimes capture the love and joy in her face, as we excitedly tore off the pretty paper mummy had wrapped them in.

Chapter 5

Early January 1955

Running up the stairs, I heard Mummy talking on the phone. I realised it was my aunty Maureen; while taking the phone away from her ear, she said, Would you like to go to Aunty Maureen and Uncle Frank’s house for a couple of weeks? I jumped up and down with excitement.

She said, They are coming down and will pick you up.

This would be my first holiday on my own with them!

Aunty Maureen had my room ready for me with a big fluffy pillow and pretty patchwork quilt on a double, old, wrought iron bed.

I loved waking in the morning, listening to the birds singing in the trees. There were so many different kinds and my favourites were the bright red and blue ones. My aunty Maureen told me they were called rosellas. I thought they were so beautiful, and I realised then they were the same birds on the Arnott’s biscuit tins. My aunty Maureen was a wonderful cook and always had scrummy cakes and biscuits freshly baked for us all to enjoy. I loved their old brick cottage with its wooden veranda overlooking the beautiful countryside. One day I was in my uncle Frank’s shed; I reached up, my curiosity yearning to know what was in this tin! Oil spilled out as I pulled it down, gushing onto my face and into my eyes. Screaming for my aunty, I yelled that I thought I was blind!

She came running in, saying, I told you not to touch anything in Uncle Frank’s shed!

I remember feeling love and nurturing as she proceeded to wipe my face with some rags that were obviously close by. I was still crying and insisting I was blind, when I heard her say with a slight giggle, Come on I’m taking you to our vet across the road for him to make you all better again! He was a lovely man and he was able to help me.

Uncle Colin, my mother’s brother and his wife, Aunty Kate lived only a short ten-minute walk from Aunty Maureen’s house. We would spend many hours there playing with our cousins and it was a very happy feeling being surrounded by cousins and family. We would always take the short cut over the old railway line and would have little adventures along the way. My aunty and uncle lived opposite the railway line and we would sit out on the grass with our cousins and wait for a train to go by. Sometimes it took a long time before one came along and if we were lucky, a steam train would pass by. I liked them the best! Aunty Kate’s house was a brick and stone cottage with a wooden white picket fence enclosing the front yard which was covered in rich green grass with beautiful scented roses in garden beds. I loved the country as I felt free, happy and safe. Even though I missed Mummy, I really enjoyed my holidays there and always looked forward to the next one.

My aunty Maureen would ring and ask Mummy if I would like to come for a week or two during the school holidays. I would plead with Mummy to let me go so I could escape from the horrors of Daddy’s nightly visits. Eventually I was having a stay of one to two weeks most school holidays. I loved my time I spent there. We would go for drives around the countryside, sometimes