Charlie was my Darling

Kathy, that's me, had been in a children's home since the age
of
two. It was in London, not far from Hampstead Heath. My sister
Jean was with me. She was six years older.

My first big treat in life came when I was five. The day it
happened all the children filed into the dining room and
assembled in front of Matron. When she clapped her hands for
silence you could hear a pin drop. She started to speak saying
that the London Taxi Driver's outing, which took place every
year, was on Saturday. Some of the girls would be going but only
those girls whose names she was about to read out. We all waited
with bated breath, fingers crossed and offering up a silent
prayer, "please let it be me".

My sister and I were standing together and when our names were
called we had to bite our tongues to stop ourselves shouting out
as this would annoy Matron and for such an outburst she would
stop us from going. We knew she would because even on Sundays in
church we were not allowed to fidget, clear our throats or even
cough, so strict was she and all her staff.

Saturday was still a couple of days away and my sister, who was a
little on the bossy side, kept on reminding me that we had to be
on our very best behaviour until then so as not to risk the
possibility of two other girls going in our place.

"Whoopee!" The great day had arrived and we had survived without
getting into our usual scrapes. We were going.

To us and the rest of the children it was as thrilling and
exciting then as it must be for a child being taken to Disneyland
today. We all scrambled into the black cabs waiting outside the
Home with our packed lunches. We knew we would be having drinks,
sweets and ice cream when we reached our destination which all
added to the excitement.

There were five of us to a cab. I was the youngest child ever to
go which is why, I suppose, that Charlie, our driver, took
special interest in me, keeping him with me for most of the day.
I didn't mind. He was fun and I liked him.

When we arrived, the field seemed so large, with a fair, donkey
rides and all sorts of other things going on. There were such a
lot of us it was as well that we had this special place all to
ourselves.

Charlie made it a fairytale day for me. I don't think there was a
thing he left out, including all the sweets and ice cream I could
manage. My mind boggles and my mouth waters even now, seventy
years on.

Where there's a beginning there's always an end but my day didn't
end without what was for me a big crisis. When it came time to
leave, I somehow got parted from Charlie and couldn't find him
anywhere. I started to cry as we all had to return in the same
cab we had come in.

My sister and the older children in her cab kept asking me what
he looked like but all they could get me to say was that he was
lovely and wore tucked up trousers. They all started to scream
with laughter as the trousers which Charlie wore were known in
those days as Plus Fours. The noise they were making must have
attracted attention because when I looked up, with tears
streaming down my face, there stood Charlie. I flung myself at
him and he very gently picked me up and carried me towards the
cab, my arms clinging tightly around his neck, not wanting to
ever let him go. He was the first man to come into my short life
and my first love.

Over the years I have often given a thought to those London black
cab drivers who take time to make a lot of children feel very
happy and special for a day. As for me, I think God gave me back
my daddy for a day, who had gone to Heaven when I was only a year
old, because you see his name was also Charlie.

So, God bless you Charlie wherever you may be.