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Don McDouall was evacuated from London during World War II when he was five years old. When the war ended nobody came to take him home and he was sent to 'Poundcroft', a children's home in the village of East Hanney.
All the fight had gone out of me. The end of the war had come but my mum hadn't come for me. Grans had told me to leave her house and that I was to live at the 'Pound', us kids thought it was a children's prison. I had run away and I had walked eighteen miles to Swindon to find my sister Esther but she was not there. The police, who had found me wandering in Swindon looking for my sister had taken me back to the 'Pound'.
A boy much my own age opened the gate wide, then stood gawking at me and the two policemen and the shiny black car. I had never seen this small thin boy before. I was taken aback by the sight of him. I thought this was a prison, where were the guards?
We crunched across the gravel and as we approached the door it opened and a lady stood there dressed in a white uniform. She had curly black hair and wore thick-rimmed glasses. The lady smiled at us. I had seen this woman many times in the village, but had never thought she was the much feared Matron, her name was Betty Fawkner.
I was too dumfounded to do or say anything. She looked directly at me, making me feel very inadequate. In a mild voice she said 'Took you a long time getting here Donny but its nice to see you. Bertie will take you for something to eat but a wash first, please'. I stood open mouthed, I had expected a whipping.
Bertie took me with him to the first bathroom I had ever seen. Bertie then part filled the gleaming basin with warm water. I washed my face, then my hands then I dried myself. I became frightened because I had left all these dirty smudges all over the white towel but Bertie told me not to worry as it happened all the time.
In a daze I found myself inside a large bright kitchen. The cook was a very stout, red-faced women. She filled me a dish with stew. I ate and ate and then felt horribly sick. I just made it outside then I vomited and I couldn't stop. I felt very, very ,sick.
I remember nothing of the next few days. When I did come back to reality I thought I was in heaven! I was in a bright room and I lay in a bed just right for a small boy covered by a soft, blue blanket, my head was on a soft white pillow. It was an extremely pleasant feeling that I have never forgotten.
When I awoke from sleep, the matron was sitting on a chair watching me. She smiled as I looked at her. She asked me if I wanted a drink or something to eat. She held a glass to my lips and I gulped the water down. I asked her if she was an angel and she smiled. I was sick on and off for three weeks but slowly I got better.
There were three boys in the 'Pound' (Poundcroft), that is all there was. A curly headed boy of twelve years, Derek York. He had a wart on one of his eyelids. He was an aggressive boy. His dad was in the army and his mum was dead. He was mad on speedway riding.
The other kid was Bertie. Bertie Black was older than me, he was nearly eleven, but only looked about nine years old, he was very small and very thin. Like me, he didn't have anyone who wanted him.
We didn't go to school but just played in the great big yard behind the house or in the stables and barns. We had the run of all the gardens and the orchard but had to promise the matron that we would not go outside the premises without asking her first for permission. After the terrible time I had had living with Grans I had to keep pinching myself, thinking I was having this wonderful dream.
For the first time I had pyjamas to wear to bed. No one hit you or called you nasty names. For the first time in my life I had underpants and a vest to wear. There were socks to wear and shoes that fitted. There were shirts and trousers and jumpers that all fitted! There was plenty of food on the table at mealtimes and you could just help yourself!
There was food to eat that I had never seen before. Toast and cake, jelly and blancmange, cornflakes and shredded wheat. There was cocoa at night or Ovaltine and even Horlicks! I got giddy just looking at it all.
We use to help the cook wash up but we didn't have to. We helped the gardener but again didn't have to. There was no real work to do. Nobody screamed at you or belted you. It was heaven all right.
A couple of times I went outside the grounds to the shops but my old friends in the village didn't want to know me anymore. One kid who was an old friend I'd known for a long time said his mum reckoned I must have done something awful to now be locked up in the kid's prison.
I told Bertie and Derek about this. They didn't know what I was on about as they didn't come from around that area so neither one had heard all the horror stories of the 'Pound' being the local kids prison.
I stopped going outside the home except for each Wednesday morning. That was the day when the three of us would come out of our so-called prison clutching our sweet coupons and our 'sixpenny bit'. The sixpence was our pocket money, the first real pocket money I had ever had. The three of us would spend perhaps an hour or more just looking at all the different sweets in the two East Hanney shops.
Sometimes I would see Grampy on his bike. He would look at me as he rode past and I would stare back at him feeling very shy. Best of all was Saturday afternoons when we would all get on the big red double-decker bus going to Wantage.
The three of us would race up the stairs of the bus and sit on the front seat. I just loved that bus ride. We would watch the matinee shows in the picture house and afterwards buy a pennyworth of chips and eat them slowly as the bus took us back to our home. I use to hug myself for hours pleading with God for this beautiful dream I was having, to never end.
I had been at the 'Pound' for about a month when one night I had a really bad nightmare. In my dream I saw a mouse alone in a jam jar trying desperately to escape. It had nothing to eat or drink. When I woke up I realised that this dream was for real. I had hidden a large glass jar with a mouse that I kept as a pet inside in the garden wall at Grans. When I left Grans it had been in a hurry and I had forgotten all about this mouse.
I worried myself sick all morning and finally told the matron of my fears. The kind lady understood straight away and took me back to Grans. With my heart in my mouth I crept to the hiding place in the wall. The jar was still there. To my joy the mouse was still alive, hiding in the dried husks of bean seeds.
Matron and I let that little creature free in the grass, near the pond. For many years later and well into my adulthood, I continued to dream about that little mouse.
Don McDouall, Australia, 2001
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