Barkingside, Essex - December, 1925

It was hard to determine who was putting out the most steam; Peggy or the train. Peggy had fumed all the way from Ipswich to London. She kept on fuming from London to the new Barkingside station. After meeting Mrs Creagh, she had been packaged up, complete with large label, and shipped to Dr Barnardo’s Girls Village Home.

Under her severe bowl cut hair, her normally gentle blue eyes glared out at the uniformed staff member striding across the platform towards her.
“Marguerite Gutteridge, is it?” checking the label tied to her coat.
Peggy nodded.
“Come along then.”
The gravel crunched as Peggy was led through the imposing wrought iron entrance gates.  Inside the thick walls the village was strangely quiet for a place housing hundreds of girls.
“Where is everyone?” The lady seemed surprised to be addressed without notice.
“At school or working. There is no laziness at Dr Barnardo’s Village.”
Peggy shrunk down into her coat, wishing she was back in Auntie Maud’s worn but cosy Fox Inn Cottage. The light was fading early this cold December day. She shivered. As they rounded the corner of the first building, Peggy could see lines of two-storey brick cottages with tall chimneys quietly smoking. The cottages surrounded a village green, but the trees had lost their leaves and only old rosehips adorned the bushes.
Auntie Maud had said that she’d like the Village Home. She said it would be better than Haughley. It was certainly different, but better?

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