An Unconventional Love
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Оглавление
Adeline Harris. An Unconventional Love
An Unconventional Love
Adeline Harris
Table of Contents
Foreword
Chapter One Beesakope, Assam
Chapter Two The Family Miracle
Chapter Three The SS Ormonde
Chapter Four Earl’s Court Hotel, London
Chapter Five Clumber Cottage, Felixstowe
Chapter Six Oaklands, Crewe
Chapter Seven The Unsettled Child
Chapter Eight The New Priest
Chapter Nine Lessons at the Presbytery
Chapter Ten The Secret Bridge
Chapter Eleven Jealousy in the Parish
Chapter Twelve The Daughters of St Paul
Chapter Thirteen St Bernard’s, Slough
Chapter Fourteen The Shock of Loss
Chapter Fifteen The Godmother Stand-in
Chapter Sixteen Eleven Gatefield Street
Chapter Seventeen Looking After the Father
Chapter Eighteen Crewe and District Memorial Hospital
Chapter Nineteen The On/Off Boyfriend
Chapter Twenty A New Arrival
Chapter Twenty-One Playing Happy Families
Chapter Twenty-Two Life-changing Decisions
Chapter Twenty-Three A Wedding, a Baptism and a Mass
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright
About the Publisher
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My Story Love
A lost little girl, a troubled life, the friend who stood by her
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‘That was stealing, Adeline,’ he told me. ‘Stealing is always wrong. You must understand that. Come here.’ He pulled me towards him, bent me over his knee and spanked me hard until I was screaming and crying—more in chagrin than in pain, it has to be said. From then on, whenever I’d done anything wrong, I’d be sent to my bed to wait for him. I’d hear the footsteps coming down the corridor and I’d lie there knowing I was about to get spanked. Sure enough, he’d come in and put me over his knee and give me a good wallop. When I was three, he’d just come back from fighting in the war against the Japanese and he believed in a rigid, army-style discipline in the household. He was a no-nonsense parent.
Dad was also responsible for teaching me the Rosary, and he drummed it into me till I could have repeated it backwards if necessary. He would start—‘Hail Mary, Full of Grace’ or ‘Our Father Who Art in Heaven’—and I would have to carry on from wherever he left off. There were three parts—the Joyful, the Sorrowful and the Glorious Mysteries—and I had to learn the prayers in Latin, a gabbled set of sounds that I spouted parrot-fashion without understanding any of it. By the age of four, I was word-perfect and proud. I liked the grandeur of the words. They made me feel clever and important.
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