Hannah Matthews

Hannah Matthews remembered little of her parents. According to her mother, her father had left to “Seek our fortune on the other side of the world” before she became weak and died, still confident of his return.

Hannah was three years old and, with her older brother, was placed in the care of St Bandass Children’s home as a war in Europe generally gripped all life. Abusive and austere institutionalisation moulded a protective shell and removed from the establishment to lavish surroundings aged twelve offered respite. Missing the protection of her brother and aware of him being harmed, she was compliant as a procession of older men, some kind and some… not so, visited the room where she was confined until all activity suddenly stopped. Noisy rooms fell silent, and deliveries of food ceased. She was alone.

The noise of people moving alerted her to silence with trepidation. Doors were flung open and slammed shut, creating fearful anticipation for a starving, half-naked teenager held firmly in place by restrictive leather straps. The sight of the robust tearful lady in the doorway and her shocked, sympathetic cry… “Ohhhh! Love?” together with the warmth of her cardigan wrapped protectively around exposed shoulders, delivered a welcome release from captivity into a household filled with care.