‘She got Mum to write down what she did know about her background – that she was born at the London Hospital for Mothers and Babies and raised at the orphanage at Newton-le-Willows, and then shipped out to Australia in 1947. Stella got in touch with the people at Births, Deaths and Marriages, and they referred her to the Red Cross and we were, in the end, able to find quite a bit of information.’

The piece of paper Ruby passed across the table to me comprised just three lines:

The Fairbridge Society proposes taking 120 children to Australia.

Rescued from a life of crime and misery here, for adoption by Australian families.

A sum of 800 pounds is now required . . . Will you help in this Good Work?

‘Mum was practically jumping out of her skin when she saw that,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s obviously an ad placed by the Fairbridge Society to raise money to send children from English orphanages to Australia. But Mum was a bit upset when she saw it. She kept saying, “The ad is wrong, Stella! I was never rescued from a life of misery! I was happy in the orphanage. I didn’t want to leave it. How can they say I was rescued from misery?” And at first I thought she must have been glossing over things, for Stella’s sake. I’ve read enough about the old English orphanages to know how awful they were. But Mum said no, she really didn’t mind the orphanage, and the reason she didn’t want to go to Australia was that she’d always been told her parents would be coming back for her one day.

‘She explained to us that for as long as she could remember, the nuns had told her that the other kids were orphans, but she wasn’t an orphan. They had said she had a mother and a father, but her father was fighting the Germans and as soon as the war was won he’d be back for her. So she told the nuns, “I’m sorry, I can’t go to Australia! I have to stay here because my parents are coming back for me!”

‘The nuns were very matter-of-fact and stern, as they were in those days, and one of them said to Mum, “Don’t be silly, Agnes, your parents are not coming back for you. The war is over, and nobody has come, and your parents must be dead.” That’s what they told Mum, Mr Fawcett, that her parents were dead.’

I said, ‘It sounds cruel, but it was pretty common. It happened to a lot of British kids after the war.’

‘That’s true, I know, we’ve been hearing all about it lately, but it was a complete shock to Mum, at the age of seven, to hear that her parents were dead, because she had spent all that time waiting for them to come sashaying into the orphanage to rescue her. From what I understand, she refused to believe it. She kicked one nun in the shins and ran and hid under a bed. They had to drag her out and, to their credit, they were very kind, telling her not to worry, it wasn’t her fault, and what a marvellous adventure it would be to sail to Australia. And so before she knew it, she was being weighed and measured and inspected for lice, and being told that Australia was warm and lovely, and that there would be trees with sweet fruit everywhere, which they’d be able to reach up and pick as much of as they wanted.’