are. None of us have got time to see to you,’ Gladys told her. ‘I’ll tell Sister Theresa that I told you to do that so you won’t be in any trouble.’
Sister Theresa was small and fat. She came bustling into the dormitory full of authority, then began tutting, muttering and crossing herself, invoking the mercy of the Holy Mother, when she saw Winnie’s legs for the first time. ‘Can you try and dress yourself and I’ll find someone to help you get downstairs,’ she said as she hurried away.
When she was eventually helped downstairs, Winnie was shocked to find that her chair had been moved and that no one seemed to know where it was.
‘Sister Hortense said it was to be thrown out as rubbish,’ Babs whispered.
‘As rubbish!’ Winnie exclaimed, her eyes filling up with tears. ‘She can’t do that, I won’t let her! My dad made that for me, I want it back!’
‘You can stop your tantrum right away,’ Sister Hortense told her, overhearing. ‘It’s crude and ungainly and takes up far too much space. From now on you will use one of the orphanage’s wheelchairs, and you can think yourself very blessed indeed to be allowed to do so.’
When she saw it, Winnie had to admit that it was a great improvement on her old chair. It was a proper wheelchair with two very big wheels that made it possible for her to move herself around. There was also a little shelf in front to put her feet on so that they weren’t sticking out like they’d done in her old chair.
Getting into it wasn’t easy, though, because unless it was wedged against something solid it moved, but once she was in it she found it was comfortable.
In the weeks that followed, as she slowly settled into the orphanage routine, Winnie found that at first there were one or two who shunned her because they couldn’t stand the sight of her deformity. There were even a couple of girls who pushed or shoved her out of the way and took things from her, knowing she couldn’t chase after them to get them back. Gradually, however, she became accepted; the bullying stopped and she was no longer considered a freak.
Adjusting to the strict regime was not easy. The early morning bell sounded at six o’clock and they were allowed twenty minutes in which to wash and dress. Then they had to attend prayers in the chapel before starting their appointed tasks for the day. For some this meant sweeping or scrubbing the floors or the outside steps. For others it was cleaning windows, the dormitories, the kitchens or other rooms throughout the building. All this was before breakfast.
Gladys and Babs had been told to help Winnie to dress each morning, but this didn’t mean they were exempt from other work. Instead, they were told to work alongside Winnie doing more menial tasks like cleaning cutlery, washing dishes, ironing and mending.
Winnie was afraid they would resent her because of this, but instead she found that they both welcomed the chance to avoid some of the harder tasks like having to go outside and scrub the stone steps.
‘You want to try doing that on a cold frosty morning, or when they’re covered with snow,’ Gladys told her. ‘Your hands turn blue and they’re so cold that when you come back indoors they ache for hours afterwards.’
‘Sometimes they’re so numb that you can’t eat your breakfast,’ Babs agreed.
Breakfast was a bowl of grey-looking porridge, served without either milk or sugar. It was accompanied by a wedge of bread which was so hard and dry that the only way to eat it was to dip it into the thin porridge to soften it up.
‘Why is it so stale?’ Winnie asked.
‘Because it’s the throw-outs from all the hotels and restaurants in Liverpool. Two of the nuns go round with a handcart every evening and anything that is too stale to be served to their own customers they send to us. They think of it as their charity offering. Sister Magdalene tells them it will earn them a place in heaven when they die.’
‘They don’t
Sister Theresa was small and fat. She came bustling into the dormitory full of authority, then began tutting, muttering and crossing herself, invoking the mercy of the Holy Mother, when she saw Winnie’s legs for the first time. ‘Can you try and dress yourself and I’ll find someone to help you get downstairs,’ she said as she hurried away.
When she was eventually helped downstairs, Winnie was shocked to find that her chair had been moved and that no one seemed to know where it was.
‘Sister Hortense said it was to be thrown out as rubbish,’ Babs whispered.
‘As rubbish!’ Winnie exclaimed, her eyes filling up with tears. ‘She can’t do that, I won’t let her! My dad made that for me, I want it back!’
‘You can stop your tantrum right away,’ Sister Hortense told her, overhearing. ‘It’s crude and ungainly and takes up far too much space. From now on you will use one of the orphanage’s wheelchairs, and you can think yourself very blessed indeed to be allowed to do so.’
When she saw it, Winnie had to admit that it was a great improvement on her old chair. It was a proper wheelchair with two very big wheels that made it possible for her to move herself around. There was also a little shelf in front to put her feet on so that they weren’t sticking out like they’d done in her old chair.
Getting into it wasn’t easy, though, because unless it was wedged against something solid it moved, but once she was in it she found it was comfortable.
In the weeks that followed, as she slowly settled into the orphanage routine, Winnie found that at first there were one or two who shunned her because they couldn’t stand the sight of her deformity. There were even a couple of girls who pushed or shoved her out of the way and took things from her, knowing she couldn’t chase after them to get them back. Gradually, however, she became accepted; the bullying stopped and she was no longer considered a freak.
Adjusting to the strict regime was not easy. The early morning bell sounded at six o’clock and they were allowed twenty minutes in which to wash and dress. Then they had to attend prayers in the chapel before starting their appointed tasks for the day. For some this meant sweeping or scrubbing the floors or the outside steps. For others it was cleaning windows, the dormitories, the kitchens or other rooms throughout the building. All this was before breakfast.
Gladys and Babs had been told to help Winnie to dress each morning, but this didn’t mean they were exempt from other work. Instead, they were told to work alongside Winnie doing more menial tasks like cleaning cutlery, washing dishes, ironing and mending.
Winnie was afraid they would resent her because of this, but instead she found that they both welcomed the chance to avoid some of the harder tasks like having to go outside and scrub the stone steps.
‘You want to try doing that on a cold frosty morning, or when they’re covered with snow,’ Gladys told her. ‘Your hands turn blue and they’re so cold that when you come back indoors they ache for hours afterwards.’
‘Sometimes they’re so numb that you can’t eat your breakfast,’ Babs agreed.
Breakfast was a bowl of grey-looking porridge, served without either milk or sugar. It was accompanied by a wedge of bread which was so hard and dry that the only way to eat it was to dip it into the thin porridge to soften it up.
‘Why is it so stale?’ Winnie asked.
‘Because it’s the throw-outs from all the hotels and restaurants in Liverpool. Two of the nuns go round with a handcart every evening and anything that is too stale to be served to their own customers they send to us. They think of it as their charity offering. Sister Magdalene tells them it will earn them a place in heaven when they die.’
‘They don’t
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