The Forgotten Home Child

by Genevieve Graham

  “I didn’t bring you here to make you sad,” Chrissie says, still looking at the names, “though I know that’s unavoidable. I just… I don’t know. I wanted you to know that you weren’t alone all that time. There were so many others. And I wanted you to know that there are people living today who care about what happened, and who are paying tribute to what you all went through as well as they can. There’s even an official National British Home Child Day here in Canada, declared by the government. It’s on September twenty-eighth.”

  I stare at her in wonder, then shift my eyes back to the names on the stone. This place. How had I lived so close and never known it existed? All these children. And now all these other people, knowing about us, caring about us… It’s confusing, and I muddle through a fog of emotions. For so long, I’ve been keeping my secrets, ashamed of where I came from and who I was. Today I discover that others have been doing the opposite: working to remember, to acknowledge. And Chrissie, my thoughtful granddaughter, is one of them. My heart is full of love for her.

  I swallow and try to find the words trapped in my throat. “Thank you, Chrissie. I’m… I’m glad we came,” I say, and I mean it.

  It is another silent drive back to the house as each of us is lost in our own thoughts, lunch forgotten. When we get home, Jamie disappears into his room while Chrissie works in the kitchen, and I go lie down, weary from the morning’s exertions. An hour later, I wake up to the sound of Jamie’s voice and I slowly make my way into the kitchen.

  “Do you think she’ll like it?”

  “Oh, Jamie,” Chrissie says. “She will love it. I love it. Think of it. From here we can build on it for years.”

  “It’s not very detailed, but…”

  “Maybe she can fill in some blanks. Maybe I can. There are some fantastic people on the British Home Children Facebook page who are amazing at finding things like this. Maybe if I just ask—” Chrissie notices me in the doorway. “Gran, you have to see what Jamie made.”

  “What is it?”

  Jamie pulls out a chair for me then places a piece of paper at my spot. I sit and study the angular writing carefully, then I realize he’s made a family tree. My family tree.

  “Why, this is wonderful,” I say, entranced. I’ve never seen my family written out on a page like this, and though it is a short tree with very few branches, I am grateful for every name he’s written.

  “There’s you and Pop.” He points to the top of the page. “I can’t wait to hear the story there.”

  I chuckle and ignore his comment. I can already see where I should add my little brothers’ names. I skim my finger all the way to the bottom.

  “There you are, Jamie. And someday you’ll add someone here beside you.” He blushes and my finger returns to the top. “Oh, there should be a line here,” I say.

  Jamie frowns. “I missed something? Where?”

  “Here. Beside Susan’s name.”

  Now they are both staring at me, and I realize what I’ve revealed.

  “Whose name would go there, Gran?”

  I take a deep breath and picture his dear face again. “Billy.”

  twenty-four WINNY

  — 1938 —

  Amid the squealing streetcar noise and the quick tap of so many boots on the sidewalks, hope sprouted in Winny’s heart like a seedling. Looking everywhere at once, she and Charlotte wound their way through the busy Toronto streets, searching for the apartment the Carpenters had rented for them. They had said it was set right on top of a grocery store, offering unimagined convenience.

  “Over there,” Charlotte said suddenly, pointing across the street. “It’s a good thing, too. This trunk is heavy.”

  Winny took in the front of the little shop, with its bright displays of beans and corn, the cardboard signs painted with prices, and the jolly green-and-white-striped awning stretched over it all. Beside the front door was another, and there the girls paused and held up their individual keys. They stood perfectly still for a second, beaming at each other.

  “Here we go,” Winny said.

  “Will you do the honours?” Charlotte asked.

  Winny’s key slid smoothly into the lock, and the door opened with a little encouragement, revealing a narrow stairway.

  “I can hardly believe it,” Winny said, heading up the stairs. She opened the second door at the top and stepped into the apartment. “Just the two of us, on our own.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte said, peering into the space behind Winny. “It’s… sweet.”

  Winny took in the cracked yellow walls, the worn, floral sofa and armchair, the dining table with its four mismatched chairs. Setting down her trunk, she made her way into the kitchen, a tight space crowded with a boxy white stove and refrigerator. The tap over the sink kept up a steady drip, and the ceiling light was dotted with dead flies.

  Charlotte came in behind. “It’s not much, is it? I mean, I suppose we can make do—”

  “It’s wonderful!” Winny cried, hugging her. “This is our very own home, and I cannot think of a better place to live. Please, please thank the Carpenters again. It’s perfect.” She spun in a circle. “Come on. Let’s go see our bedrooms.”

  They were identical, each with white walls, a dresser, and a small bed.

  “My own bed!” Winny exclaimed, flopping onto the mattress. “How will I sleep without hay scratching me all over and sticking in my ears?”

  “The landlady told Mum that she just replaced the mattresses,” Charlotte said from the other room.

  Winny was certain she had died and gone to heaven.

  Mrs. Carpenter had sent them with clean sheets and pillows as well as towels, dishes, and cutlery, and the girls quickly got to work putting everything in place. That night after the sun set, a streetlight beamed into their living room and a car honked loudly, but when Charlotte went to close the curtains, Winny stopped her. The last time she remembered walking in this city at night she’d been laughing with Jack, and Edward had finally admitted to Mary that he fancied her. Winny wanted to stay in that memory as long as she could. Back then, they’d known their time together was limited. They’d never imagined it might be cut so short.

  “Ever since Mary died,” Winny said, “I’ve been dreaming of coming here and finding her son. I can’t believe it’s finally happening.” Her pulse quickened, and she turned to Charlotte. “What if he’s not there? What if he’s already been adopted? What if—”

  “Don’t worry.” Charlotte wrapped a comforting arm around Winny’s waist. “He’ll be there. The Carpenters said it would be unlikely for any baby of a Home Child to be adopted so soon.” She lowered her eyes. “Most families are looking for older children to help on their farms. Or new babies.”

  “You’re right,” Winny said, picking at her nails. “What if I find him, but I don’t know what I’m doing? You know, with a baby.”

  “You’ll know exactly what to do. You were very good with babies in the nursery at Barkingside, if I recall.” She winked. “And just in case you’ve forgotten, you’re about to learn how to be a nurse as well.”

  “Yes, but what if he doesn’t like me? What if I—”

  “He will love you, Winny. Mary knew that, and so do I.” Charlotte smiled. “Now, let’s have a bite to eat then go to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day. Your dear husband, Jeffrey, will meet us at the café in the morning, and then we’ll go straight there.”

  Winny flushed at the mention of their little ruse. “Your cousin is so nice to do this for me.”

  “He is, isn’t he? He’s a tremendous fellow, and ever so smart. He knows how important this is to you, and he knows how important you are to me.” She headed to the kitchen. “Also, technically, Jeffrey’s not really my cousin. He’s Mrs. Carpenter’s nephew.”

  After a quick supper of sandwiches and tea, they went to their bedrooms and Winny slid between the fresh sheets, pulling her blanket up to her chin. The pillow was so soft behind her head she felt as if she were floating. Within seconds, she was asle
ep.

  The next morning, Winny was up hours before the sun, dressing in her best clothes, trying not to worry her nails to the quick. But there was nothing she could do about her nerves, which buzzed with adrenaline, and she paced the little apartment while she waited for Charlotte to get ready. When at last they stepped outside, Winny breathed in the sweet perfumes of oranges and apples coming from the store, overwhelming the less pleasant smells of the city street.

  “Now I’m hungry as well as excited,” Charlotte said, taking her arm. “Let’s go!”

  When they reached the café, Charlotte peered around with purpose, but Winny’s eyes went everywhere. The tables were crowded with patrons, and though their noses were buried in menus and coffee cups, she felt as if they all watched her.

  “There you are! Hello, Jeffrey!” Charlotte exclaimed, pulling Winny toward a young man already seated at a table near the window. He was strikingly handsome, as Charlotte had said, though his eyes were obscured behind very thick glasses.

  Following her friend, Winny felt an odd sense of envy. Charlotte moved so effortlessly between the tables, while Winny fought the urge to duck behind the closest coat rack and stay out of sight. Thanks to the Carpenters, no one had ever told Charlotte she was just a gutter rat, that she didn’t belong. Winny lifted her chin, challenging herself. If Charlotte could do this, if she could walk through a crowd with her head held high, then so could Winny, she tried to tell herself. She just had to learn how.

  Jeffrey jumped to his feet as they approached, and Winny admired his smart grey suit, accented by a light blue tie. “Charlotte!”

  “So good to see you.” Charlotte hugged him then introduced Winny. “Jeffrey, this is my best friend in the whole world. Winny, this is the sweetest man I know.”

  Jeffrey gave a little bow. “It’s an honour to finally meet you, Winny.”

  “I’m very glad to meet you.” She clenched her hands to her chest, hoping to still the dancing nerves. “I really don’t know how to properly thank you for doing this. Our little charade may not work, but—”

  “But it might,” he said. “And I’m happy to help.”

  “Look at that.” Charlotte beamed. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences. A match made in heaven.”

  His cheeks reddened, and he gestured toward the table. “Would you like some breakfast?” he asked.

  “Yes! We’re famished,” Charlotte said, settling in.

  When they were all seated, Jeffrey turned to Winny. “I’m glad we got this opportunity. I thought maybe you and I should talk a little, learn something about each other before we go in there.”

  “Good idea,” Winny replied. “I’ll admit, I’ve been a little nervous about that.”

  “Of course. But I’m sure it will all be fine. Actually, I found something that should put you entirely at ease. During all my digging, I stumbled across a court ruling that changes everything. Apparently, you do not have to be married to adopt a child.”

  “What? I don’t?” She looked at Charlotte, then back at Jeffrey. “Well, then… does that mean they will have no objections at all? Is it as good as done?”

  “I’m not entirely sure if they’ll have hoops for us to leap through or not, so I still think my standing in as a prospective father will be beneficial to your case.”

  “Oh, yes,” Charlotte said earnestly, leaning over the table toward him. “We need you there, Jeffrey. Having a brilliant lawyer with us just makes everything so much more reputable.”

  He grinned. “Thank you for your unflagging faith in me, Charlotte. Now Winny, let’s get to know each other a little. My middle name is Edgar. Yours?”

  “Margaret. Winnifred Margaret Ellis,” Winny said. “But you should call me Winny.”

  “Do you have any hobbies?”

  She stared at him. “Hobbies?”

  “What do you like to do when you’re not working?”

  “I… I don’t think I’ve ever not worked.”

  “Let’s make something up,” Charlotte suggested. “Reading. You always like to read.”

  “That’s true,” Winny said. “I do like to read. What about you, Jeffrey?”

  “I enjoy reading as well. Mostly newspapers, though,” he replied. “I also play hockey.”

  “I love hockey! Which position?” Charlotte asked.

  “Defense,” Jeffrey replied.

  “How exciting!”

  Winny studied her friend, surprised. She’d heard of hockey, but when had Charlotte ever seen a game? She was about to ask when she noticed the sparkle in Charlotte’s eyes. It reminded her of how Edward had always looked at Mary, and Winny suppressed a smile.

  “Do you like hockey?” Jeffrey asked Winny.

  “I have no idea. I’ve never seen a game.”

  “The three of us will have to go to one sometime,” he said. “I’ll find out when the Maple Leafs are in town.”

  They paused as the waitress approached their table. “Coffee? Tea?”

  The others ordered coffee and eggs, but Winny hesitated, briefly dazed by the notion. No one had ever served her like this. She quickly recovered and asked for a cup of tea and a piece of toast, unsure if her stomach could handle much more than that this morning.

  “So?” Charlotte said cheerfully as the waitress headed off. “What’s your story? How long have you two been married?”

  Jeffrey and Winny exchanged a glance. “Two years,” he decided. “And we would like a son.” He frowned. “Will you recognize your friend’s child, do you think?”

  Mary’s tortured words came back to Winny. “All I could see was a glimpse of black hair sticking out from inside the blanket.”

  She took a deep breath. “I sure hope so. He’d be a year and a half or so. That should help narrow it down, I hope.”

  He nodded, leaving that to her. “I’d be happy to do the talking in there. Unless, of course, they ask you something directly. It’s just that…”

  It was a kind offer, and while Winny felt unsteady at the thought of a near stranger taking her fate in his hands, she saw the wisdom in his suggestion. Of course, the people there would prefer to deal with a man, not a woman.

  “That makes sense, Jeffrey. Thank you.”

  “We just want it all to work out for you,” he said. “My aunt also mentioned you might need a nanny, so I thought I’d suggest my sister, Esther. If the matron asks about family support, we could mention her. You never know what might come up.”

  “Esther’s lovely,” Charlotte assured Winny.

  Breakfast arrived, and Winny tried to keep calm as Charlotte and Jeffrey caught up, chatting about a dinner party they’d both attended months before. Before she knew it, it was time to go and they followed Jeffrey to his car. When he opened the door, Winny insisted that Charlotte sit up front with him so they could continue their conversation as they drove towards the maternity home. She needed to sit quietly in the back and clench her hands together, do what she could to stop them from shaking.

  As they neared the address, all three of them fell quiet.

  “This is Farley Avenue,” Jeffrey said. “What number?”

  “Two fourteen,” Winny said quickly.

  “There.” Charlotte pointed. “That brick building with the black door and white windows. See? With the white fence.”

  Jeffrey parked in front of the building then opened the doors for the girls. Once they stood on the sidewalk, Charlotte took Winny’s hand.

  “You can do this.”

  Winny imagined Mary, her pleading eyes red from crying, and she knew Charlotte was right. She could, and she would. Impulsively, she reached for Jeffrey’s hand as well, and he took it, looking slightly surprised but pleased. For a moment, all three were joined, and Winny felt stronger than ever.

  “Let’s go get my baby.”

  A dizzying sense of urgency surged through her as they walked through the big black door, their heels clattering on the tile floor and echoing off the walls. Charlotte fell behind Jeffrey and Wi
nny as they approached the front desk, where a solitary woman welcomed them then introduced herself as Matron Douglas.

  “I am Jeffrey Hill,” Jeffrey said. “I believe you are expecting us.”

  “Ah yes,” she said. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “And this is my cousin, Charlotte,” he offered.

  “Excellent. It is always good to have family support in these situations. We wouldn’t want just anyone to walk in here and take one of our children.” The matron opened a drawer and flipped through folders, frowning with annoyance. “I apologize. I can’t seem to find your file at the moment. It may already be in the other room. No matter. I’m sure we can take care of things without it.” She rose then gestured for them to follow her. “Not too many little ones here right now. Eight infants, and four others who are over a year. One girl and three boys, one of whom is starting to walk. The older children have already been sent to another orphanage, since they have outgrown this place. I’m sorry, I don’t recall the age of the child you are looking for.”

  “We’re looking for a boy, not too young,” Jeffrey said as they walked. “Probably around a year and a half.”

  She nodded. “Let’s see what you think. The babies are in this first room.”

  As they rounded a corner and entered the room, they were enveloped by the sickly sweet smell of diapers and milk.

  “Oh,” Winny said, moving instinctively toward the tiny, swaddled bodies. Her heart squeezed, aching with the loneliness and rejection the babies were too young to understand. “Where are their mothers?”

  Matron Douglas glanced sideways at her. “These babies come from mothers who were unable or unwilling to care for them. It is our Christian duty to take them in and try to find families for them.”

  Winny fought the urge to contradict the woman. Mary had wanted her little boy more than anything else. That baby might have saved her life, if he hadn’t been stolen from her.

  “I wish we could take them all home,” Charlotte whispered to Winny, then she turned to the matron. “I have a question, and I know you’re the right person to ask. Do you recommend that new parents tell the child they’re adopted when they’re old enough to understand?”