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Private Life, Public Record

When I finally found my grandmother’s birth record, the address at which she was born was stated as 129 St Johns Road, Islington, in the County of London. This public record was at odds with her Australian marriage record, which said she was from Isle of Ely, Cambridgeshire. A search on the Islington address surprisingly showed that it was a workhouse. Birth certificates were routinely filled out with a non-descript address, so as not to draw attention to the status of the mother. A relic of Victorian times, the workhouse was not only the destination for the destitute; it was the destination for unmarried mothers. Before 6 September 1913, my grandmother’s birthdate, there was no record of a marriage for Louisa Gutteridge. However, there were other birth certificates. Louisa had two older children, both boys. The younger boy, Arthur, had also been born in a workhouse. So, when Louisa found herself once again in the family way, she knew what to expect. And she knew what was exp...
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Fremantle WA, April 1928

The echoes of the children’s cheers rippled across Fremantle Harbour. “We’re almost there, Peggy,” whispered Irene, holding tight to the ship’s rail. Peggy’s face was lit by the sunset glow as she turned and smiled at her friend. Peggy would be glad to get off the Ballarat after six long weeks at sea. She smoothed the skirt of her brown woollen Girl Guides uniform. Miss Wedlock said they all had to look their best as a photographer from the newspaper would be taking a photo of the Dr Barnardo’s party on the dock. Peggy’s smile faded as she remembered that most of the smaller children would be leaving the group here to go to a farm school. Miss Amos and Lieutenant Fitchett were handing out white floppy hats to the farm school children. She and Irene and the other teenage girls would go on to Sydney. Peggy had helped look after some of the younger ones. She’d mothered those little children like she wished she had been mothered. She read to them. She helped them. She was there...
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Sharra-bang! London - January 1928

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Louisa dashed away angry tears lest they smudge her makeup. Escaping the Royal Albert Hall, she couldn’t move fast enough. Lizzy, tottering on gaudy high heels, was struggling to keep up with her. “Louisa! Slow down” she hissed. Louisa stopped, her anger moving down to her toes, which tapped a staccato rhythm on the cobbles as she waited for Lizzy. “Did you hear her?” she exploded. “Don’t you dare, she said, don’t you dare . Ugly woman in her ugly guides uniform. How dare she not let me share some sweets with my daughter.” “You know, I’ve been giving those people money since Nellie was a baby, and she’s babies of her own now. Always had a coin box in the house. I won’t give ‘em a farthing more, Louisa. See if I won’t.” Louisa shivered as she smoothed her hair and adjusted her clothes. She must calm down, she told herself, and try to work out how she could get Maisie back. --- The day had started well enough. It was just over an hour by train from Burnt Oak to K...
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