Catherine (2)

24 Mar

She found it easy to unravel the string of circumstances which had led them to this place and return, in her mind, to Great Newton Street, where their home had been when Mam was alive.  The kitchen stove blazing, daddy reading in his armchair and mammy busy baking at the sturdy wooden table, centrepiece of many a family gathering, were vivid fragments of her memories of home.   There was warmth in the past, many smiles and a lot of love.

But as the man behind the oaken desk peered down at her, his long yellow face extracted  warmth and chilled her soul. She feared him in the dark, cold room, and more than anything, she feared what lay beyond the heavy black door,  which separated this room from the rest of the Liverpool Workhouse.

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