The Risk-Taker: An Autobiography

By Rosalie E F Ross

In The Risk-Taker: An Autobiography Rosalie describes the first few idyllic years of her life in Wales. The year is 1951, and the family experience many of the typical joys and sorrows of countryside living. Then life changes dramatically when her father returns home and an army tenement in the city of Liverpool becomes home. Another posting soon follows, and with it, more terror and confusion.

At the age of seventeen, she manages to escape to start a new life in the W.R.A.F. But there is a problem, and one that will follow her wherever she goes. For her, there is no escape, because 'the problem' is in her own body.

This is a deeply personal and compelling narrative that is handled with searing honesty and painstaking sensitivity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosalie E F Ross
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215924228

Rosalie E F Ross

Rosalie Ross joined the Women’s Royal Air Force at the age of seventeen where she trained as a nurse. Upon her discharge, and suffering from a bad case of wanderlust, she spent several years working as a casual seasonal worker in hotels and holiday camps in the Scottish Highlands and on England’s East Coast.She became a Christian at the age of twenty-eight and spent a year at a Methodist Bible College. Five years later, she settled down to marriage and children.Always having felt the urge to write, her first book took her almost eleven years to complete – "Due to life’s ups-and-downs." Her second book was completed soon after. She has just completed her third.Her motivation for writing, and her heartfelt desire, is that her work speaks to someone, somewhere, about the reality of God’s love, and that they too will come to know Him as their Faithful Companion along life’s uncertain paths.Rosalie has written the following books:-The Hidden PathMy High TowerThe Graceful SolutionAlso several short stories in: Beyond The Brackets - Anthology

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Copyright 2023 © Rosalie E F Ross

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Discover other titles by Rosalie E F Ross:-

The Hidden Path

My High Tower

The Graceful Solution

Unless otherwise stated, all Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible. New King James Version®.

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

An Explanation

Part 1

Chapter 1: 1944-1955 - A Small Market Town in Wales

Chapter 2: 1955 - Liverpool

Chapter 3: 1956 - An Army Camp in Hampshire

Chapter 4: 1958 - A Great Upheaval

Chapter 5: 1961 - A Small Village in Norfolk

Chapter 6: 1962 - Peterborough - Arrival and Early Years

Chapter 7: 1963 - Peterborough - Teenage Years

Chapter 8: 1968 - Starting Work

Chapter 9: 1968 - Basic Training

Chapter 10: 1968 - A New Career

Chapter 11: 1970 - Problems Everywhere

Chapter 12: 1970 - An Ending

Chapter 13: 1971 - Civvy Street

Chapter 14: 1972 - Safe in the Hands of the Law?

Chapter 15: 1972 - Escape

Chapter 16: 1972 - Company

Chapter 17: 1972 - Trying Again

Chapter 18: 1974 - A Different World

Chapter 19: 1974 - Endings

Chapter 20: 1975 - Dead Ends

Chapter 21: 1976 - Scotch Mist

Part 2

Chapter 22: 1977 - An Invitation

Chapter 23: 1979 - The Revelation

Chapter 24: 1979 - No 'Bed of Roses'

Chapter 25: 1979 - Answered Prayer

Chapter 26: 1979 - Encounters with the Enemy

Chapter 27: 1980 - Encounters of a Different Kind

Chapter 28: 1981 - Cedar Cottage and Beyond

Chapter 29: 1983 - A Change of Mind

Chapter 30: 1983 - Sharon

Chapter 31: 1983 - The U-Turn

Chapter 32: 1983 - Another Baptism

Chapter 33: 1983 - God Works in Mysterious Ways …

Chapter 34: 1983 - A Beginning and an End

Chapter 35: 1983 - Running Scared

Chapter 36: 1983 - The Visits

Chapter 37: 1984 - Heavenly Gifts

Epilogue

Photograph Section

By The Same Author

The Hidden Path

My High Tower

The Graceful Solution

Dedication

For Derek, Marlene and Lorraine.

By the grace of God, we survived.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my dear sister, Marlene, for allowing me to share her memories of our earlier years. I know it was not easy for you.

My thanks also to Bindi. Your constant encouragement and support have helped me to persevere, and finally complete, another project.

An Explanation

It was May, 2020, and the Coronavirus (COVID-19) Pandemic struck. Plenty of time to write now. But what? Another romantic tale, or more short stories? Certainly not an autobiography, that would be such an egotistical type of thing to do. Well, I suppose I'd better sit down and see what comes.

Later that day. Hm. Maybe if I go for a walk - just to get the ideas flowing.

Next day; not to worry. Wish that autobiography notion would go away. It's been loitering at the back of my mind for years now. I'm sure it can't be what God wants me to do.

The next day, much too busy. I’ll try again tomorrow.

The next day. And the next. This is strange. Now I'm starting to get worried. That autobiography idea seems to be persisting stronger than ever. Wonder what would happen if I tried writing a page or two …

The days turned into weeks, then into months. And this book is the result.

Although only the first thirty-three years of my life have been covered, please, dear Reader, do not feel short-changed; you will discover that it also encompasses my two, very different lives.

For those readers who do not believe in miracles, please know that they really did happen. I would be lying to claim otherwise.

There is a Photograph Section at the back of this book.

Disclaimer: The names and identifying features of some people have been changed in order to protect their privacy. Most place names have also been changed. Otherwise, I have adhered to the truth, as experienced from my own perspective, and within the context of writing a book.

Part 1

All we like sheep have gone astray;

We have turned, every one, to his own way …

Isaiah 53, verse 6.

Chapter 1

1944 – 1955

Lampeter: A Small Market Town in Wales

The year was 1944. David Davies was a soldier serving in the Middle East when he received a disturbing letter from home. The informant wrote, 'You must already be aware that your wife has been spending time with an American serviceman, but did you know that she is pregnant?'

Months later, his wife, Muriel, wrote herself and told him about the baby's arrival. She knew he was going to find out sooner or later anyway, and needed to tell him her side of things.

Her letter added to David's outrage. He knew, as did everyone else in the town, that the child was not his. Totally ignoring his long-term negligent behaviour towards her, he replied that she must choose: her marriage, or the child.

Muriel chose the child, who she named Derek.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, the couple agreed to meet when he came home on his next leave. As can be imagined, their discussions were extra-ordinarily difficult. Finally, David came to the conclusion that this was one argument he was not going to win. He should have known that she was a mother fighting for her child. Eventually, they managed to reach a mutually acceptable compromise: they would remain married on the condition that he would legally adopt Derek when his overseas posting came to an end. In the meantime, Muriel would continue to live with her parents.

Four years passed, and David was still serving overseas. It was during one of his infrequent leaves that Muriel conceived her second child. The baby girl, who was given the name Marlene, entered the world the following January.

Rosalie, her third child, was conceived just eight months later. Muriel was dismayed to find herself 'in the family way' again. She was still breast-feeding, so how could this have happened? Maybe David had used one of those faulty rubber Johnnie's they had been hearing so much about? What bad luck! She wrote and told him the news, only to receive his furious response, in which he denied having had any part in the child's conception. More letters followed, but so vehement and persistent were his refusals to take any responsibility for this still unborn child that she became increasingly frustrated and anxious. Finally, she felt her only recourse was to write to his commanding officer and state her case.

It can be confidently said that David would have been as embarrassed as he was furious to know that his superior had become involved. No doubt, the accusations would have flown unbounded. How dare the woman interfere with his career! Didn't she know - wasn't she capable of understanding - that a thing like this could leave a black mark on his hard-earned and unblemished service record? The bitch could carry on and complain as much as she liked; he would not give in. That damn kid she was carrying was not his!

Rosalie came four weeks early. The circumstances of her birth were a surprise to everyone. Muriel had been on her way to the shop to buy a cake for tea when her waters broke. Thankfully, she had only gone a short distance and was able to return home before a very red-skinned baby arrived in the world. Her high colour prompted her attending grandmother to compare her with the flowers in the nearby vase, 'Duw, duw!' she exclaimed, 'She's as red as those roses!'

Once again, and knowing what his response would be, Muriel wrote to inform David of the baby's arrival. This must have been especially difficult, because now she had the added problem of trying to explain the premature birth. We do not know when he finally conceded that the child was indeed his. One theory is that even he had to agree that she did look 'a bit like him' by the time she reached the age of two.

Time passed, and life continued as before. Muriel was quite content to remain living under her parent's roof. Despite being home to three adults and four children, the rented, double-fronted house never felt too crowded or noisy. Apart from her own three children, she had always helped her parents care for Aeron, her brother's unwanted son, who had literally been left on their doorstep as a six-week-old baby. Now, he had grown into a confident and lively teenager. All four children referred to their grandparents as 'Mam' and 'Dad'.

Mam was a little plump lady who kept her hair wound in a variety of pink and blue plastic rollers and covered with a hair net. Only on a trip into town, or for a special occasion, were they unwound to reveal a mass of soft, white waves.

She was an industrious soul who could often be found sweeping the pavement in front of the house, or on her hands and knees, scrubbing the red-painted door step until it shone. Afterwards, the brass letter box and door knocker would be given a good, hard polish whilst she indulged in a bit of gossip with the neighbours.

Ironing was another of her regular chores, and one that particularly fascinated Marlene. Even at the tender age of three, she would watch Mam spit on the surface of one of a pair of flat irons that hung from a metal plate above the fire. If the spit sizzled, it was hot enough, and she would sit quietly and enjoy watching the creases being calmly smoothed away.

Despite being possessed with good deal of common-sense, Mam also had a superstitious side to her character. She never forgot to throw a pinch of salt over her shoulder whenever any was accidentally spilt. Storms, too, were to be treated with suspicion. After the first clap of thunder, she would hurry around the house covering the mirrors with tea towels and tucking any shiny objects away in a drawer in case they attracted the lightening.

Rationing was still in force, and Dad took his responsibility to provide for his family very seriously. As a Master Baker, and despite the very early mornings and long hours he had to work, he always found time to keep a well-stocked garden. A variety of seasonal vegetables would appear on their plates and, much to the frustration of the ever-present and foraging wildlife, salad items thrived behind a barricade of zinc corrugated sheets. Soft fruit bushes made sure that the hard-working bees provided plenty of honey, and the apple, pear and plum trees never failed to give generously of their bounty. Being a real countryman, he was also adept at catching fish and game, all of which were turned into hearty soups, stews and pies by Mam and Muriel.

Sometimes, Mam would cook one of his favourite meals, a large bowl of tripe and onions in milk. At other times, he would sit by the fire and plunge a white-hot poker into a glass of his own homebrewed mead. Marlene would sit and watch, always feeling alarmed at the angry sounding hissing noises the liquid made. Being just that bit older than Rosalie, and despite the fear of coming across a rat, she would often venture alone into the kitchen to indulge in a cup of the lovely, sweet-tasting drink as it was being made.

Jars of preserved fruit and perishable food were kept in the larder. Dry goods and tinned items, as well as the precious supply of sugar, were stored in a wall cupboard. Mam sweetened her hot drinks with Nestles Condensed Milk, which was something both girls found irresistible. They did, however, turn their noses up at the pungent, chicory smell of Camp Coffee.

Bread was a staple element of every meal. The girls would watch their mother hug a loaf close to her chest and cut off perfectly even slices with a dangerously long knife. How she never cut into herself, they never knew. Nor did they understand how Derek was able to bear the heat when he held a long, thin fork near the flames of the fire so that they could have some lovely, buttery toast.

On laundry days, a fire would be lit under the big hopper in the kitchen. After a good soak and regular agitation with the dolly-stick, the clothes were rinsed in the Belfast sink, squeezed through the mangle, and then hung out to dry on the washing line.

The other two places where fires were lit were both downstairs: one in Mam and Dad's living room, the other in the bedroom-cum-living room that Muriel shared with the girls. Each morning, they would be laid with a combination of coal, sticks, and sheets of crumpled-up newspaper, then 'banked-up' with burning coals, or wood, last thing at night. Whenever one looked to be on the verge of dying, large sheets of newspaper would be held over the whole fireplace in an attempt to draw it back to life. Sometimes, all that was needed to reignite the dying embers was a succession of short, sharp bursts of air from a pair of bellows. When all else failed, and one did eventually die, its cinders were collected and spread around the garden; nothing ever went to waste.

The adults were vigilant about the use of fireguards. Nevertheless, there was one instance when a near-tragedy occurred. One morning, the girls were happily chasing each other around the living room table, when two-year-old Rosalie tripped and fell, headlong, into the red-hot embers of the unguarded fire. She lay there, stunned and motionless, as Marlene began to scream. Providentially, Mam, who just happened to be mopping the hallway floor a few feet away, came rushing in. She immediately sprang into action by lifting Rosalie's prone figure away from the fire and lowering her head into the bucket's soapy water.

Thanks to her quick actions, the damage was superficial, and the wonder of it was that Rosalie never felt any pain. Neither was she bothered by the beret she had to wear to cover her near-bald head for many months afterwards.

During the day, toilet needs were met by using the outside lavatory, which they referred to as 'the lavvy', and with chamber pots, referred to as 'pos', throughout the night. The girls especially appreciated the feel of the lavvy's warm wooden toilet seat on their young bottoms, but not the frightening presence of the huge spiders that regularly scurried around their feet and along the walls during the colder months. Occasionally, a roll of crinkly Izal toilet paper would appear to replace the more pliable, and therefore, comfortable, cut-out squares of old newspapers.

Personal hygiene was a very basic affair. The only tap was located in the kitchen. A small amount of hot water was provided by the kettle that could always be found simmering away above Mam and Dad's fire. Every morning and evening, Muriel would fill a bowl and lift the girls onto the table, before rubbing their faces and hands with a warm, soapy flannel. Sometimes, she would take them to a neighbours' house to have 'a proper bath.' However, the usual procedure was to light the hopper and heat buckets of water, which were then carried into the living room and poured into a tin bath that had been strategically placed in front of the fire. Hair washing was a particular trial for Rosalie, who thought it a very unnatural thing to do. The only way she could cope with the ordeal was by pressing a frangle (her word for flannel) over her face.

The girls did not venture upstairs very often. When they did, they tried to give Aeron's room a wide berth. They believed his ominous sounding warnings to 'Keep Out', which he had painted in blood-red ink on the menacing looking black door. When they did manage to peep in, they were able to catch fascinating glimpses of the treasures their artistically-gifted cousin had created, amongst them a magnificent Indian chief's headdress made from his impressive collection of bird’s feathers. Hanging from the ceiling were dreamcatchers and model airplanes that he had designed and built himself; skilfully carved ornaments, made from the bones of dead animals, lined the shelves. He also enjoyed leatherwork, and went on to make several Frontier-style waistcoats, belts, and knife pouches. He also made a guitar and a banjo, both of which he taught himself to play, Country and Western being his favourite style of music.

Dad had taught him all the skills of being a real countryman, and together they erected a large aviary at the bottom of the garden. Apart from keeping canaries, they also rescued and treated any injured or exhausted bird they came across. If the patient recovered, it would be released back into the wild.

By complete contrast, something very different was happening in the street immediately behind the garden, where heart-breaking cries of distressed animals could often be heard. It was a kindness to the girls that they were never told what the purpose of an abattoir was.

Before taking them into town, Muriel would give the girls' hands and faces an extra wipe and tie colourful ribbons in their hair. They often called into Merricks, the ironmongers, where they would try hard not to touch all the fascinating looking objects on sale. Immediately next-door was Evans, 'The Sweet', a tiny but well-stocked sweet shop. Marlene would scurry around on her hands and knees to find any stray bits of Dolly Mixture that had fallen behind the counter when being weighed. Meanwhile, Rosalie, being fifteen months younger, and still wearing children's reins, could only look on with envy.

Another special treat was a visit to Tonti's Ice Cream Parlour where they were able to enjoy the delicious ice cream made by the Italian owners. Then there was Harry Bach's café. The smell of bleach never managed to diminish the taste of the lovely milkshakes, nor the fun of twisting the straws into funny shapes afterwards.

When Friday came around, Mam would give Derek and Marlene the biggest pie dish and send them up the road to William's Fish and Chip shop. Their mission complete, the pair would hurry back with their precious bundle wrapped tightly in newspaper.

Milk was delivered by 'Billy the Milk', alias William Morgan, who was ably assisted by his horse, Neddie Bach. This helpful companion pulled the cart and always knew exactly where to stop without being told. Billy enjoyed a joke as much as anyone else. Once, when Mam did not have the five shillings in change to give him, he tore the ten shilling note she offered, gave one half back to her, and kept the other half for himself.

Then there was 'Di the Coal', alias David Rees, whose face was always covered in a thick layer of coal dust. Marlene was always wary of the strange looking sight, and would watch from a safe distance as he heaved the sacks onto his back, before carrying them through the house and emptying them in the coal hole outside.

Weekday evenings were spent listening to the radio, when Mam and Muriel's fingers were never idle. Clothes would need darning or altering, and pullovers and cardigans that had been outgrown were unpicked and the wool re-used. Any worn-out piece of fabric or clothing was saved and cut into strips to make small rag rugs. When stepped on, these felt warm, even luxurious, compared to the cold lino and thin mats that covered the floors.

On Saturdays, the girls particularly looked forward to the 'Wakey, Wakey Show' with Billy Cotton and his Band. Another of their favourite shows was 'Uncle Mac', and they would join in with Burl Ives and Frankie Vaughan to the words of 'I'm a Pink Toothbrush, You're a Blue Toothbrush', 'Archie, The Talking Piano', 'Green Door', and the rather grisly 'There Was an Old Lady That Swallowed a Fly'.

When Sunday evening came around, Muriel would often climb the steep hill at the other end of the town to attend the service at the local Church of England. Curious as ever, Marlene once asked where she was going. Upon learning that Mummy was going somewhere where there was 'a lot of music and people singing', she asked if she could go too. However, the experience did not prove to be the exciting outing she had anticipated. Never having been in such a large building before, she soon began to feel a sense of foreboding. To her, it was a huge, gloomy place, and she could not understand why everyone was speaking in hushed voices. Then the organ began to play, and it seemed to echo all around her, and she felt sure that the walls would shake and come crashing down upon them all. She began sobbing and begged to be allowed to leave. Muriel took pity on her, and the pair left quietly after just a few minutes.

A happier musical experience was to be had when they visited Tommy and Maud, who were old family friends. They were members of the Salvation Army, and Tommy would bring out his trumpet and start to play. Then Maud would start waving her tambourine about and make lovely, wavy patterns with the long blue, red and yellow ribbons that were tied to it.

Muriel often took them out for walks. Within ten minutes, they would be surrounded by all the sights and sounds of the countryside. Marlene always found plenty to interest her, especially when there were hazelnuts to pick and gloriously shiny conkers to collect. She was particularly fond of a horse that would allow her to stroke its long nose, before gently nibbling some fresh grass from her hands.

They paddled in the river on hot summer days. The girls would shriek at the tickling sensation of the tiny minnows that darted around their feet. One day, Marlene felt that they needed to be warmed-up. She caught some in a glass jar and carefully carried her precious haul home with the intention of putting them in the oven to warm up. But Muriel would not let her, so she took them outside, and was trying to decide what to do when the jar slipped from her grasp and smashed onto the ground. Horrified, and with her heart breaking, all she could do was stand and stare through tear-filled eyes as the tiny creatures lay gasping and dying around her feet.

On really special days, and when Dad was able to borrow a car, he would drive them all - very steadily, and never fast - to the popular seaside towns of Tenby or Swansea.

It was an exceptionally hot day when they set off on their next trip. Mam was sitting on the back seat with Marlene on her knee. She dozed off, and was unaware when the child began to play with the door handle. Moments later, the door flew open and Marlene, who was still wearing her reins, tumbled out. The hot, tired old lady kept on sleeping; like everyone else in the car, she was totally oblivious to what had just happened. The only witness to the dreadful sight of a child's head being bumped along the tarmac was a passing motorist. (No-one ever understood why he did not turn around and do everything he could to alert them.)

At last, Mam's sleep was broken by the sound of Marlene's screams. As soon as she realised the awful truth, she began shouting at Dad to stop the car whilst pulling hard on the reins.

It was a miracle that Marlene had not been badly hurt. In fact, the only injury she suffered was the loss of some hair from the top of her badly grazed head.

After some discussion, it was decided to continue with the trip. Hopefully, the poor little girl would be able to enjoy making sandcastles, peering into rock pools, and find enough pretty shells to help her to forget her terrible ordeal.

Rosalie was three years old when she remembers shedding her own first horrified tears.

Muriel had gone out, leaving Mam to look after her and Marlene. She was suffering from a stomach upset and had just vomited into the po. She was on her way to show Mam what had happened when she noticed an unfamiliar hand reach through the letter box. Naturally curious, she stood and watched it grasp the key that was always tied to a piece of string just inside. Then the door opened, and a man dressed in a soldier's uniform came in.

'Who are you?' she asked, thinking it very strange that the man hadn't even knocked.

'Who the hell do you think I am?' he replied, a hard glint coming into his eyes when he saw what she was holding. Then he announced, 'I'm your father,' as he reached down and grabbed the chamber pot from her. And then, very deliberately, he began to pour the contents over her head, at the same time, saying, 'And maybe this will help you to remember.'

Rosalie was too shocked to scream as she dashed back into the living room, keeping her mouth tightly shut as the revolting mixture ran down her face.

Marlene stared with horror at the sight of her sister being chased by a strange, angry-looking man. She screamed when he caught Rosalie and began hitting her.

By now, the only way Rosalie was able to breathe was by taking rapid, terrified gasps. Maybe it was just seconds, but it felt like a lifetime, before the man hurled her limp body against the piano.

Mam had been busy in the garden when she thought she could hear a scream coming from inside the house. She stood and listened. There, another scream, and another. She moved as fast as her legs could carry her. At last, she arrived at the awful scene. Emboldened and energised by her own shock and horror at the sight that met her, she succeeded in ordering her awful son-in-law out of the house.

And so, Rosalie's terrifying ordeal came to an end. Despite the violence of the attack, she had not been badly hurt; no bones had been broken and the physical bruises faded in time. But not the emotional ones. She was told that the man was her father, and that she had seen him when she was very little. But she really could not remember. All she knew was that the man was a cruel, angry monster who went about doing really nasty things to children. And she never, ever wanted to see him again.

But Marlene and Rosalie did see him again when he turned up at the house some time later. As before, his visit was unexpected and, once again, Muriel was out when he let himself in. Mam tried as hard as she could, but was unable to prevent him from taking them both with him.

It was a long, three-mile trek out of the town and up the steep hill, and they soon began to tire. They became frightened when he began shouting and telling them off.

At last, they arrived at a strange house. They were taken into a room where two old people sat: a lady by a kitchen range, and a man at a table. Hardly any daylight penetrated the room's gloomy atmosphere, where the only light came from an oil lamp that cast spooky shadows into the dark corners.

The lady, who was dressed entirely in black, broke into an uncertain smile as she held out her hands to greet them. Hesitatingly, the girls approached her. She stroked their hands as she told them that she was their grandmother. Turning her careworn, weathered face towards the man, she revealed that he was their grandfather. He nodded in their direction and uttered some undecipherable sounds. Then the lady pointed at a couch and told them to sit down. It felt hard, not soft, like the one at home. They were given a drink of water, which they sipped slowly as they looked around. Underneath a glass dome were some shrivelled-up flowers, not like the pretty, colourful ones Mummy always put in a vase on top of the piano. And would that poor little dead bird come back to life if it was freed it from its glassy prison? As to why the few ornaments on the shelf above the range were painted black, they had no idea. What a strange, dark sort of place this was.

Then the lady, who had obviously given some thought to their visit, pointed at a box on the table. Now that was something they did understand, and they set about arranging the puzzle's twelve wooden cubes into a pretty farmyard scene. A spinning top came next, but they soon tired of that. With nothing else to occupy them, all they could do was sit still and try not to fidget as the grown-ups talked in that funny language they could not understand.

The time passed slowly. Then Marlene asked if she could go to the toilet. The lady told her that the privy was in the yard at the bottom of the garden. She set off, then became terrified when she realised that she would have to pass a menacing-looking goat on the way. Thankfully, the animal was tethered, but she never forgot 'the evil look in its eyes'.

The early evening light began to fade. By now, the girls were very tired, and the grandmother could see that they were becoming upset. She told David to take them home, even though it was already too dark to set off down the unlit and uneven country lane. Just then, the sound of a car engine could be heard approaching the cottage. Seconds later, Muriel came rushing in. Heated words were exchanged between husband and wife as she hurried the girls out and into the waiting taxi.

A great sadness was to visit their home soon after when Dad became very ill. He was taken away in an ambulance and died in hospital a few days later. Then he was brought home and put in a coffin in Mam and Dad's living room. The curtains were closed, and all the adults went about the place talking in hushed tones when they called-in to 'pay their last respects'.

Muriel comforted the girls as she put them to bed that night. She left the door open, and then, suddenly, Marlene saw him; it really was Dad! He was standing in the hallway just outside their room, and he seemed to be surrounded by light.

'Don't worry, little girl,' he said, looking straight at her. Then he faded away. It had all happened so quickly.

She never knew how, or why, she had been allowed to see him. All she knew was that his image had been so real, and one that has stayed with her to this very day.

Marlene started school when she was five. She was unable to understand the lessons that were taught in Welsh, and quickly became upset. When playtime came around, she went to the fence that separated the infants from the juniors and pleaded with Derek to take her home, but all he could do was to try to encourage her. She contracted a severe bout of measles a few weeks later. The doctor said that there was a real risk that she could go blind, and advised that she be kept in a darkened room. Thankfully, she made a full recovery, by which time something happened at home that meant that she did not have to return to that particular school.

The fact was that David was back in the country and had been offered a married quarter. Now Muriel had to make another decision. With the death of her beloved father, the family had lost their main provider, and there was the inescapable fact that Mam was not getting any younger. The children were growing-up fast, and she felt that to expect her to continue to put a roof over their heads - and everything that came with it - was asking too much. She was also aware that David had the right to divorce her if she refused to go with him. He had always sent her a small allowance, but she felt sure that even that would stop if there was to be a divorce. The decision was a hard one to make.

She was thirty-seven years old, and had been married for fifteen years when she said goodbye to Mam, her friends, and the only life she had ever known. Was she hoping that, after all this time, David's heart would soften towards Derek when they were all living together? Surely, he would see for himself what a lovely child he was and finally agree to adopt him? Of course he would; wouldn't he?

Chapter 2

1955: Liverpool

The city was a culture shock for Muriel and the children. Gone were the familiar sights, sounds and smells of the quiet Welsh market town with its lovely countryside. Now, they had to learn how to adapt to life in a noisy, bustling city. It was also the place where the children needed to adjust to living with the man they had to call 'Daddy'. Unfortunately, Muriel's hope that David's negative attitude towards Derek would soften quickly began to fade when it was obvious that he remained as intransigent as ever. As a result, eleven-year-old Derek chose to stay in his own room whenever David was around.

Their new home was a mid-story flat in an Army tenement. Although there was a field at the back, the girls were rarely allowed to venture outside. Some compensation could be had when they were able to stand on the balcony and watch the ferries as they plied up and down the River Mersey.

Daily life was always conducted in the kitchen. The front room was reserved for 'best', such as Christmas Day, or if anyone important ever came around. It was nice to have the luxury of an indoor toilet and even a proper bath! Although, it was strange to know that all the rubbish had to go down a chute, and their mother had to hang the washing out on a pulley-controlled line that extended from the kitchen wall to a post, some distance away.

Marlene found her new school to be a far more pleasant experience than her Welsh introduction to education, mainly because all the lessons were taught in English. She particularly enjoyed the story time, despite struggling to stay awake when the teacher read out such delights as Enid Blyton's 'The Magic Faraway Tree'.

She often walked to school with Derek and some of the other children. Their route took them past a shop, and they regularly had to wait outside whilst the others went in to buy sweets. This was when she learned of something called 'pocket money', which could be used to buy such interesting things as packs of bubble gum. The gum did not interest her as much as the cards that came with it, and it was not long before this interest turned into a longing. Eventually, she succumbed to temptation, and began to take pennies out of Muriel's purse so that she could buy some too. One day, she told another girl about her secret. The girl told her mother, who then felt it her duty to inform Muriel. Disappointed and angry, Muriel confronted a very remorseful Marlene, and the spell was broken. Muriel never told David, and Marlene never stole from her again.

One day, four-year-old Rosalie decided that one of the walls in the corridor looked too plain and could do with some pretty colours. She began with the lovely red wax crayon and drew a line from one end to