SUZANNE LAMBERT is a Newcastle-based author.
She was left, aged just two weeks, at the door of Nazareth House orphanage.
Now, having won a life story competition, she has used her experiences of growing up there for her festive-themed bestseller, Christmas At The Ragdoll Orphanage (Michael Joseph £6.99).
I SWITCHED on the Christmas tree lights and watched the candles flickering in the darkness.
And as I snuggled up warm and cosy on the sofa, my mind began to wander back to a summer day so many years ago.
Over 50 years ago I lived in an orphanage with my mum, Nancy, who worked there as a Nanny.
Summer holidays in the north east of England were full of excitement as we didn’t live far from the seaside and every day seemed to be scorching hot.
The pandemonium started early with cook making sandwiches which were packed tightly amongst flasks of tea and bottles of juice.
Then there was mum’s special going-out bag full of plasters, bandages, antiseptic cream, scissors, sickness tablets, sun cream, and toilet roll.
It would be no exaggeration to say there were days when mum and Sister Mary Joseph would take at least 20 of us clambering up the driveway to the train station, carrying our buckets and spades, already wearing our bathing costumes.
In the summer of 1963 our trip to Cullercoats beach, Newcastle, was on an extremely hot day.
All went well until we saw a little girl eating an ice cream. We all began to lick our lips. Oh, can you imagine the joy of having an ice cream cornet, we said to each other.
Mum picked up her bag and we held our breath. Maybe she had ice creams in there, too.
She opened her purse and counted out her money, but there wasn’t enough. Sorry, children, she said sadly.
Later that afternoon, hot, tired and very thirsty, we were playing when the father of the little girl approached Nancy and placed a 10 shilling note in her hand. No child should be without an ice cream on a day like today he said.
More than 50 years later I have never forgotten that day or the taste of the most special ice cream in the world. Mum never forgot either.
Whoever he was, I hope life repaid his kindness for giving me one of the most precious memories in my life.
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