The Summer Child

Nadine Jackson-Croker

Description

In the 1800s Mongoloid children were thought to be idiots. They were generally taken away at birth and put into institutions. They were neglected, sometimes starved and often died before the age of 20. Those who did live spent their whole lives and institutions. Since the mid-1970s these children are now called Down’s Syndrome children.

Sujets

• Fiction Jeunesse
• Juvenilee Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris UK
• Date de parution: 12 avril 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781664118744
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Summer Child







NADINE JACKSON-CROKER









Copyright © 2023 by Nadine Jackson-Croker. 849747

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Xlibris
UK TFN: 0800 0148620 (Toll Free inside the UK)
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ISBN: 978-1-6641-1875-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6641-1874-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023902640



Rev. date: 04/12/2023



Contents
The Summer Child
The Big House
New Friends
The Summer Holidays.
The Secret is out



The Summer Child
The Big House
Still basking in the glory of the successes of the previous day. Ian Hallinger, age 12, came down to breakfast on Saturday, the twenty-sixth May 1951. Not only had he stood in as captain of first eleven cricket team for his school, but he had made his first fifty runs, which had insured victory for his school against a much larger and more famous establishment. He had also been named Man of the Match. Despite the fact that he was still only in the third form, he thought that, surely now, he would be asked to become the school’s captain of cricket, when Alan Hayes, the present captain had recovered from the chicken pox. It was true that Alan was a brillliant captain, popular too. But - if he, Ian, could be made captain - he shrugged his shoulders - could it happen?
Ian was a tall, well-built boy with pale grey eyes and floppy fair hair and an unusually sulky expression. He was not the most popular member of his class as he tended to say the unkindest things, even without provocation. He had little, and sometimes no, interest in lessons, preferring to be outside all the time. There is no doubt that he was a true athlete and would probably shine if he could accept the fact that others were, maybe, just as good and sometimes even better at some sports than he.
On this particular Saturday morning, he entered the dining room to applause from some of the younger boys, and a few “Well done, old chap” from his classmates. He sauntered over to his table and stood behind his chair just as the House Master arrived to say grace. As the meal began the post was brought into the dining hall and given to the house master, who indicated that it could be distributed.
Not expecting a letter, Ian spread a thin layer of margarine on his second slice of toast and reached for the jam pot, just as an airmail letter was dropped beside his place. Surprised, he picked it up and turning it over saw that it was from his father. He stuffed it in his pocket to read in private later. After all, he knew what it said, it was plans for him to leave two weeks before the end of term, to fly on a B.O.A.C. aeroplane to the Gold Coast for the whole of the summer hols. He felt a knot of excitement beginning to tighten in the pit of his stomach.
Ian’s father was a junior Agricultural Survey Officer living in a small township called Oyoko, where he oversaw plantations of cocoa trees in the area and linking his work with other plantations in koforidua and kumasi. Because of the nature of his work, Mr Halinger would be spending at least two years in Africa before his next long leave was due. He had been stationed there, now, for eighteen months, and had not seen his son since he was 9 years old. This was not a ususal situation, but, as his predecessor had fallen gravely ill, Mr Hallinger had had to take over all the duties of his colleague much earlier than expected. This meant that it had become necessary for him to cancel his mid term leave, making the separation from his son much longer that it might otherwise have been.
Not far away, in another Middlesex boarding school, an eleven year old child had also received a letter from abroad. Angela Bryant, the daughter of a Diplomatic Attaché to the British embassy in Paris, sat on the edge of her bed and opened her letter with a huge smile on her pretty face. She had very blonde almost white hair which she wore in two long neat plaits to comply with school regs. She was tall and skinny, with deep blue eyes and had a slightly golden touch to her flawless skin. She was a popular highly intelligent girl with a photographic memory and a preference for mystery novels. She knew that the possibility of seeing her father before the end of the year was very slight indeed as the work in which he was involved in post war Europe, was both difficult and prolonged. Her father was a widower, as her mother had died in a car accident when Angela was only three.
On this particular Saturday, Angela was looking forward with pleasure to the following week as, today, she was to travel to Bovey Tracy in Devon for her half term holiday. This meant freedom from lessons and fun with the twins. Angela fully understood her father’s position and realized that, even if she could be with him, she wouldn’t be able to spend much time with him in Paris, because the political situation between Europe and Russia was, to say the least, rather ticklish. But time spent with the twins, was to Angela a real pleasure, as they were tremendous fun, and full of ideas for adventures.
The twins were not identical. The older of the two, by three minutes, was Jane Robbins, known to her friends as Bobby. She was nine years old and had an amazing imagination and a sunny disposition. She was, not surprisingly, very small for her age, as she and her brother had entered the world somewhat earlier than expected. Despite this, she was the gymnastics star of her class at school, played the piano extremely well and loved all things magical.
Bobby’s brother’s name was Frederick. Nobody called him Frederick, not even his teachers. He was always known as Freddy He was slightly taller than Bobby, and just as agile. He liked to play practical jokes and could scamper up a tree as fast as any squirrel. He was full of mischief, and his greatest joke was to find a good hiding place up a tree, with plenty of foliage to hide behind, then, drop silently, in front of some unsuspecting passer by. He loved doing this, but it was not always as appreciated as he would have liked it to have been. So, he had been forbbiden from doing this in front of people he didn’t know or knew only slightly.
Freddy absolutely adored his sister, although he would never admit it and he would defend her to the death if necessary, though he would much rather not have to do so. The twins attended a coeducational boarding school in Devon, because their parents were also abroad. Their father was an Anglican priest with the rank of Squadron Leader in the Royal Air Force stationed at Tengah in Singapore.
On Saturday the twenty-sixth of May, both Bobby and Freddy stood packed and ready at the front entrance of their school, waiting for the car to arrive to take them the short distance to Bovey Lodge, where they would be staying with the people who were to be their guardians whilst they were unable to be with their parents. They had not met these people before, and knew little about them, other than the fact that their name was Bridgeman- Coles and that they lived in a large house not too far from their school.






They had been waiting for some time already, which wasn’t pleasant, as the day was overcast and inclined to drizzle. Most of the other children had already left, either collected by parents, or taken off in the school bus to the railway station in Newton Abbot for their journey home. Freddy had just, in desperation for something better to do, started to kick about an old cola bottle, when a large black car turned into the drive. The car was driven by a very smartly dressed man in a grey suit and a peaked hat. Having drawn to a halt in front of them, the man got out of the car and came toward them. “The Robbins twins?” He asked kindly. They stared back at him in some dismay. This looked rather too grand. Were they going to some posh place? After a moments hesiataion Bobby nodded, then nudged her brother to get him to pick up his case. This, however, was forstalled by the man who stooped down and picked up both cases and invited them to get into the car. He suggested that Freddy should get into the front seat beside him, and indicated that Bobby should get into the back. This she did, and was surprised to find that she was seated beside a gaunt young woman, who didn’t appear to realize that she was there. The woman was very pale, with light grey eyes that held an almost haunted expression. She had mousy brown straight hair, and looked as if she was unaware of where she was. Having seen the twins were safely seated, the driver placed the cases in the boot, before taking his place and driving slowly out through the school gates. As the car moved forward the woman turned her head and stared at Bobby for an uneasy moment. Bobby, not used to being stared at in such a way, looked down at her hands. The woman sighed deeply then asked in a weak uncertain voice. “Are you my girl?” Surprised, and thinking that the woman wanted to know if she was to be staying at her house, Bobby, unable to find her voice, nodded politely. She felt herself shudder. An unexplained feeling of unease, yes, even something that was very close to fear, seized her, although, when she later thought about it, she could never tell why