I remember the day that the Salvation Army Captain Graham Harding came to pick me up from Deadwood. He picked me only three hours after my grandmother had died. I remember that he picked me up in a green Morris Marina 1000 car. I was actually looking forward to leaving and was so happy to be gone from this dreadful unhappy and dismal house without love.
As we drove along the narrow road I looked out the window and saw my grandfathers little dog Rover. He was running as fast as his little legs would carry him and trying to catch the car. Captain Harding stopped the car and quickly I climbed out and stroked Rover. He immediately rolled over onto his back to let me stroke his tummy. He used to love his belly being stroked.
Rover had been my faithful friend for almost 14 years. He used to lick my tears away and cheer me up when I cried. He would wag his tail so fast that I thought it might fall off. Sometimes I would take Rover with me to gather firewood. I always thought that Rover would protect me, but Rover was petrified of those evil wicked boys. He would run home so fast and leave me.
When I finally got home bushed and bruised Rover would be cowering and whimpering under a table where I would join him.
Rover and I would always play and run together in the woods near our house and now that I was starting my new life I would never see Rover again. I missed him so much. I never did see Rover again and I heard through the grapevine that he died. When I heard that something inside me died as well.
My first night at the Salvation Army house was absolutely wonderful and quiet. It was good not to listen to my grandparents fighting and my grandfather hurling abuses at me. I could hear the birds singing and the lovely sound of the little stream at the back of my bedroomthat we called the run. Life was finally both beautiful and wonderful.
The very next day I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. harding who had three sons. They were known as the Harding boys. There was Nigel Christopher, Baby Stuart and Michael Thomas who was also the next door neighbor. He was a kind gentleman who would always rock baby Stuart to bed.
Michael Thomas was a kind gentleman and he was set in his ways. He hated to have his routine upset. He disliked me doing any of the chores that he did and he would tell me to go back home. When he said this I would think to myself, “But this is my home now.”
I lived at the Salvation Army for some time. I lived there from when I was 15 years old until I was 17 years old. I was so very happy living there I could not imagine ever leaving. But diaster was about to enter my life yet again.
The Salvation Army was going to leave St. Helena and I wouldn’t be going with them for a couple months. It was planned that I would live with some Salvation Army people from the island but the room would not be available for a few months as the lady that I would be living with was abroad in Capetown having an operation.
In the meantime I went to live with another islander. Her name was Mrs. Gladys Joshua. My tenancy came to an abrupt end after only just a few days. Mrs. Gladys literally threw me out with my suitcase first, with me quickly behind it. My clothes were scattered on her lawn and I quickly picked the contents up and headed for Jamestown yet again.
Instead I ended up at the Brais living with a man, just have a roof over my head.