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The Home Child

by Richard P. Tanos

225 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0913; ISBN 1-4120-0544-2; US$22.50, C$26.00, EUR18.50, £13.00

An engaging novel about an English orphan who comes to Canada to be a home child as part of a lucrative child slave movement. Based on actual events.

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about the book      praise for The Home Child      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book The Home Child tells the story of Henry Dewberry, a twelve-year-old orphan from London, England. Henry was one of a hundred thousand children who made that incredible ocean voyage to a so-called better place, called Canada. Blessed by a stroke of fate, Henry clumsily meets Lizzie, a local middle-class girl who lives in the town of Waterford, Ontario. Lizzie, along with her best friend Clara suddenly figure out what is taking place and both of them do everything possible to find out where Henry has been sent. This historical story is based on actual events and reflects life in South Western Ontario, Canada in 1907 -- called Canada West. A documented shameful period in Canadian history that was suppressed for years by all those that were involved in its execution. Canada and Australia, young nations trying hard and fast to grow up, engaged in an organized, lucrative child slave movement with mother England. This cruel and harsh immigrant trade continued for almost forty years, all the while being ignored by the world. The story reflects what life was like for young immigrant children, local children, and their strong will and desire to explore and be together. The unfortunate event at the end of the novel propels Henry from boyhood into an adult and changes his character forever. The Home Child is a story that embraces human tolerance, unthinkable harsh isolation, commitment, and the ultimate will to survive in this so-called better place called, Canada.Your heart will certainly be touched. Henry and Lizzie were my grandparents -Richard P. Tanos

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Praise for The Home Child "Wow! What a powerful and vivid account." - William B. Dow, descendant of BHC William Bayne Dow "Exceptional and excellent!!!!" - Shirley Johnson, Midwest Book Review "I was moved, absorbed and totally intrigued." - Elea Gratton, descendant of BHC William Bayne Dow "Historically valuable. this book should be in every classroom." - Helen Atkinson, researcher of BHC Grace Chancey and Absalom Newns

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About the Author In the sixties, I attended Stamford High School in Niagara Falls, Canada and then in 1969 attended Niagara College in Welland, Ontario, Canada majoring in computers and accounting. My three main interests at that time were, computers, playing music, and ice hockey. In 1972, after graduating, I relocated to Montreal, Quebec, Canada and took up residence in the western part of the Island and worked for Bell Canada. A wonderful, enriching, and enjoyable bi-cultural experience to say the least. Mid 1975, I re-located back to Niagara Falls to raise a family, which included Richard Brett and Jocelyn Marie. In 1983, I started my own software business and installed turn-key computer systems all over United States and Canada for a franchise cosmetics company. The car trips across the vast Canadian and U.S. landscapes provided countless hours of creativity, and a true love affair with the deep south, not to mention ideas for what would eventually become my stories. In 1991, as the deep south haunted me, I relocated yet again to Palm Bay, Florida with my wife Elaine. Within the year my step-son, Tony, and my step-daughter Beth, arrived from Oklahoma. After taking stock in my life, a normal mid-life balance sort of thing, as I've been told, I decided to re-build two classic Mustangs, a 1965 Convertible, and a 1966 Fastback. I started playing my Bass again joining up with a local rock and roll band, and growing my hair, or what's left of it. Within the next few years, my step-son Tony and his wife Rachel, blessed Elaine and I with three beautiful grandchildren, Jacob, Morgan, and Brittany. My two children with my first wife, Rich and Jocelyn currently reside in Canada and I see them whenever I can. Now with the International family in place, Elaine and I are enjoying what the south demands; a laid-back relaxed life style. My parents, Alec and Pauline still live in the Niagara Peninsula, along with my two younger brothers. I guess, It is never too late in life to start writing and yes I did have a few stories to tell, Controlled Defense and Toshomee. However, researching and writing my debut novel, The Home Child, was an experience and a journey that I will never forget. I would like to express a humble gratitude to all of you who helped in this project. The trilogy series that I have just completed, which respectively includes, Whipper Snapper's, Turner Falls, and Palomino has been a two year long effort, which included several trips to Oklahoma, and countless hours of researching a century of facts. Following along the lines of the great John Grisham, without the lawyers, these three novels demonstrate drama, intrigue, suspense, mystery, and several surprises. My current project, titled Pods, which is to be released by Publish America Inc., is a serious fictional account of what could happen to all of us as Americans, Canadians, and for that matter British especially if we take our surroundings for granted. Times have changed and our relationship with the Islamic world is at an all time low forcing everyone to become more aware of what once seemed like regular everyday-day activities. Pods will certainly make you stop and think about your own comfortable place in this, the pinnacle of freedom -- The United States of America. The past three years, no doubt, has been an unbelievable journey as I continue to research and write my novels. I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

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Sample Excerpt

Chapter 5: The Orphanage -- London, England, 1907

On the south side of London squatted the Bagan Christian Orphanage, a five-story square of a building with a church on one side and a dark alley on the other. This building was home to Henry Dewberry. It was, in fact, the only home Henry had known. He had no memory of his parents, siblings, or even pets. Henry knew he'd always lived in this orphanage, and he knew the building well--every nook and cranny. He also knew that, when he turned eighteen, he could leave. Over the years, Henry had seen hundreds of children, both boys and girls, come and go. It was however, odd that most of them had left within the past two years, and most of them were far younger than eighteen.

Orphanage life was routine. To Henry, this meant boring and disciplined. Life included two meals a day, a weekly bath, classroom instruction, and all the books you could read. Henry sat on his cot, wiped his tired blue eyes, tucked himself into bed, and then started squirming and kicking until he finally got his legs to fit the undersized cot. He had grown eight inches within the past six months, and now he no longer fit the bed. He looked at the empty bed to his right, where Brian had slept the night before, the cot that was now empty. Brian was just one of many who had suddenly disappeared. This bothered Henry, who avoided making friends because he knew they would eventually leave, and he felt terrible about losing friends. His first best friend, Richard, had suddenly left after three years. Keeping track of time in this place was difficult because each day was a monotonous twin of the previous day. On the left side of Henry's cot was a boy named Colin. He was about a year or two younger than Henry, and recently, Colin was always coughing.

"Lights out," called Mel, the portly second-floor monitor.

Mel's bed guarded the door to the dormitory. Over the years, Henry and Mel became the kind of friends who helped each other tolerate their surroundings. The only three floors in the orphanage that had permanent monitors were the first floor (for the entrance and infant center), the second floor (which housed the boys), and the third floor (which housed the girls). The third-floor monitor also slept near the door opening. The fourth floor contained offices and sleeping areas for the staff. The recreation room occupied the entire fifth floor. Here, all the books were kept in three large racks that stretched from floor to ceiling.

The basement (Henry's favorite floor) contained the kitchen, dining hall, the furnace room, and storage rooms. Usually, he had trouble falling asleep, but on this night, he was tired--probably because he had spent the entire afternoon cleaning the kitchen floor with vinegar and water. Henry fell asleep quickly.

Henry awoke and looked out the window that broke the wall between his bed and the now-empty bed. He saw a dull gray morning sky; it would rain. Henry felt that it rained most of the time, and he grew to accept it. However, he hated that the roof leaked and that the fifth floor required special maintenance. Henry often had to mop puddles on the orphanage's fifth floor, so he sometimes hid in the furnace room, where no one could find him on rainy days. He had a blanket and a pillow stashed down there. Mel didn't even know about this escape place.

"Twenty minutes to breakfast!" shouted Mel. He stood next to his bed, at the entrance of the second-floor room.

The room filled with noise as seventy boys rose and readied for breakfast. It usually took about ten minutes for everyone to drift into the dining hall in the damp basement. The boys sat on one side of the room, and the girls sat on the other side. The head table was elevated and ran along the top of the room. The floor monitors all took their places, followed by the staff, and then, Dr. Charles Heddon, the headmaster, who occupied the middle seat and who had the biggest chair. Mr. Heddon stood and said a quick prayer and then sat back down. The doors on one side of the Dining Hall opened, and servers brought trays of food to the tables. Starting with the head table, of course, thought Henry. The morning meal consisted of bowls of porridge and plates of toast. Henry didn't know what day it was. Most of the breakfast meals were the same, unless it was a special day for some reason, and then sausages were added to the menu.

The staff, having completed their meal, grabbed their yardsticks and patrolled the rest of the dining hall, looking for unruly children. Elbows had to be off the table, feet squarely on the floor, no bending over, and hats off! Smacking on the head, ankles, and hands was common. One forgot only once.

After breakfast, Headmaster Heddon returned to the head table, stood, and mumbled a few words (which he did each morning). Some speeches were short and others were long. This morning, Heddon announced that Mel, the second-floor monitor, had been promoted to travel advisor. He also heard that his replacement would arrive later that day. Mr. Heddon sat back down, sipped some tea, and then stood again, and called out, "Henry Dewberry, after meal, come to my office."

Henry left the dining room and started up the stairs, past the first-floor reception and the infant area. He heard the babies crying through the blue doors and waved to the monitor at the entrance. After reaching the fourth floor, he strolled down the long corridor and approached the door at the end of the hall. He knocked.

"Come in," answered Heddon.

Henry opened the door and, like always, he was amazed at the size of the bookshelves, the desk, the couches, the tables, and the old rugs. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Got a new one for you, Henry," said Heddon, now sitting at a small table smoking a cigar and sipping tea. "Ten o'clock--sharp. Be extra nice; he's special."

Henry knew that a rich kid was coming, and Heddon wanted no problems. Once, Henry had greeted a boy from a rich family and within two minutes, a full-scale battle erupted that included Mel, Henry, and Heddon. They finally had to give the boy back to the parents.

"Ok, governor," said Henry. Then he added, "Don't want no problems, now, do we?" Henry looked around slowly. His gaze paused at the world globe. He liked this large mounted globe, and he tried to read it whenever he had a chance. "What's the name?"

"Burke, James Burke," replied Heddon. With a wave of his hand, he added, "That will be all."

Henry left the office and made his way back to the reception entrance on the first floor. He stood next to the entrance monitor, a sour old man who controlled who entered and left the building. He was so fat and Henry knew the old man couldn't stop anyone. Finally, a carriage pulled up; a small boy got out, hugged a woman (Henry decided this was his mother), and with tears in his eyes, walked to the front door.

The carriage left as quickly as it arrived; its driver was bent on getting away from the orphanage. Henry knew that rich people often did this because they were embarrassed to be seen dropping off a child.

"James Burke?" asked Henry.

"Yes. Jimmy." The little boy's lower lip was quivering.

"Come on now, Jimmy. I'll show you around," said Henry as he patted the smaller boy's shoulder.

"What's your name?" asked Jimmy.

"Henry. Friends call me Tawny... after the owl, you know."

They went to the first-floor reception office and then up to the boy's second-floor bedroom.

"This is your bed," said Henry, pointing to the empty bed next to his. Jimmy, still intermittently weeping, sat on his bed and began saying, "Father's moving to South Africa. I will only be here a little while. Mummy is coming back for me soon."

Henry asked, "How old are you?"

"Nine," said Jimmy. "Just had my birthday two weeks ago. Mum gave me a big party with cake, candies, and presents." After a long pause, Jimmy muttered, "Mum will come for me soon. You see, Mother and Father are divorcing, and Mum said she'll get me as soon as she can."

Henry had heard this story before, but he kept quiet. Once, he was punished for telling a boy that his parents would never come back. Henry had been forced to spend two days up on the fourth-floor, in the detention room--the one room in the entire orphanage that had a one-way lock on the outside of the door. He knew better now.

"Birthday," Henry said to himself. I don't even know my birth date. How old am I? He guessed his age to be somewhere around thirteen; he was one of the tallest boys in the orphanage and was mature enough to be used by the Head Master to greet the new boys. Both Jimmy and Henry spent the rest of the afternoon walking the halls.

Finally, the dinner bell rang, and the boys made their way to the basement. The dining hall quickly filled with hungry children, and dinner was served in the same fashion as breakfast. Henry noticed a new face at the head table. "Who's he?" Henry thought out loud.

Jimmy, who sat beside him, looked up at Henry. An elderly frail-framed man, with a gray beard, thinning hair, and big eyebrows that resembled wings, sat peering out over his round glasses at the crowd, as though looking for someone.

Again, after dinner, Headmaster Heddon stood and spoke. Mr. Geoffrey Tanner, the new second-floor monitor, was introduced. Mr. Tanner stood, said a few words, thanked Heddon, and then sat back down quickly.

Jimmy and Henry left the basement and walked past the closed front doors. These doors were permanently locked for the night during dinner and would not be reopened until early the next morning. They walked to the fifth-floor Recreation Room. This room was very large and broken by pillars every so often, with rags sometimes lying on the floor, sucking up ever-present pools of rainwater. Chairs and tables were scattered about.

Henry took a seat in the corner and returned to an earlier thought: When is my birthday? This tortured him; he had no idea! "I'll find out," he muttered as he stared past the barred window into the darkness.

Henry paid no attention to Colin, who came in still coughing and who took the seat between Henry and Jimmy. Henry didn't even hear Jimmy mumbling or sobbing about having his mom come for him.

One of the floor monitors entered the room. "Bed time!"

The girls quickly retreated to the third floor and some of the boys, who were talking about the new floor monitor, retreated to the second floor. There was no way Henry would sleep tonight. He was planning a raid on the headmaster's office. One problem: the new floor monitor, Mr. Tanner.

Henry knew that after Mel was asleep, you could ride a horse past and not wake him. Mr. Tanner, however, presented a new obstacle, but Henry couldn't put off his plan. It had to be done tonight. Jimmy tried to fall asleep, but because of the newness, or perhaps fear, he could not, and every once in awhile he would look over and see Henry staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open. A few hours passed, and Henry sat up and put socks on his feet. He knew this would remove sounds, especially on the creaky old stairs.

This wasn't the first time Henry went for a late-night stroll through the building. In fact, Mel had given Henry his "Tawny" nickname after catching him wandering around late in the night, for the fourth or fifth time.

Henry crept toward the door, approaching Mr. Tanner. The old man moved a little as he slept against the wall outside the door. Henry stood silent for a couple of seconds and watched him sleep. Then up the stairs Henry went, walking as close to the rail as possible, to avoid creaky stair steps.

The third floor was in sight, and Henry knew that somewhere here, a bad floorboard lay between the entrance to the third-floor girls' bedroom and the stairs to the fourth floor. He had heard that the board was there on purpose to protect the girls' floor from intruders. He didn't know whether this was a true story, but he did know that the board, if stepped on wrong, squeaked. To bypass the bad board, Henry edged past the third-floor monitor's bed.

This was the worst part of the trip up to the fourth floor. He slipped sideways past the bed on tiptoes. The third-floor monitor was a large lady. She too slept well. She suddenly rolled over, and Henry's heart went into his throat. In a jerking motion, with his arms swinging, he leaped past her and scurried up the steps to the fourth-floor hall. Only now did he consider himself safe.

Once on the fourth floor, Henry padded down the corridor to the headmaster's office door. He passed the sleeping rooms of the staff and the headmaster himself. He noticed flickering candlelight coming from frosted windows of certain doors. Although scared, he continued, ducking as he passed doors. Finally, he was at the main door. He took out a special comb that he had made just for this kind of occasion. The teeth were broken away, and the end of the comb looked like a skeleton key. He inserted the smartly crafted false key, and with a little jiggling the door popped open. He entered and quietly closed the door behind him.

He moved to the large filing cabinet to the left of the desk. Henry knew where to go because he had been in this office several times and so far, he had never been caught. Once, he had accepted a dare from another boy to steal Heddon's umbrella. Henry couldn't pass up this challenge. The umbrella found itself in Heddon's chair in the dining hall.

He sat on the floor in front of the cabinet drawer and opened it slowly, straining to see names on the file folders. Then he saw it: Dewberry, Henry 1899. He hastily pulled the file and laid it between his outstretched legs. The darkness prevented him from reading the writing. He stood, took a candle from the shelf, and dug in the desk for matches. Finally, he lit the candle under the table. His eyes grew large.

"September 26, 1895," he said under his breath. He quickly did the math on his fingers. "It's 1907." Henry paused, "I'm twelve."

Then he noticed other things in the file. He craned his neck and looked up over the desk toward the door. Should he continue, or should he leave now? His curiosity proved overpowering. He looked back down toward the file and started to read: "Admitted to the orphanage, 1899."

"I was four," he mouthed quietly. He had been here for eight years. Then he saw it, shook his head twice, and said, "Father committed suicide. That's why I'm h
"

Henry, now in a daze, folded the file and returned it to where he thought was the original place. He couldn't help but notice that his mother's name was Sarah and his father's name was William. Henry quickly rose, pushed the drawer back in, tapped the candlewick with his fingers, and put the candle back on the shelf. Henry left the same way he came in and returned to his second-floor bed.

Very early that morning, Henry awoke to see Headmaster Heddon bending over his bed, his face red with anger. "Wake up, you bloody bastard." Henry had never heard that much anger in his voice. "Come with me now."

Heddon jerked Henry out of bed, grabbed his left ear, and dragged him up two flights of stairs to his office. As they entered the room, Henry saw smoke all over the interior and thought, Where did the fire come from? I tapped out the candle. I know I did!

"What in God's name were you doing in here last night?" yelled Heddon, glaring at Henry. The boy looked down and saw the file on the desk. He knew he had been caught red-handed.

"I only wanted to know my birthday," Henry said, feeling shame on one hand, but because of his age, a bit rebellious.

"You almost burnt down the building, you stupid fool!" cried Heddon. His teeth were clinched inches from Henry's face. "The wicks on the candles were smoldering. This happens when you do not put them out properly."

"How did you know it was me?" asked Henry.

Heddon shook his head. "Your file had been placed backward in the drawer." He wiped sweat from his forehead and spoke softly, but harshly, as he looked out the window. "It's time for you to go." Heddon drew a breath and then said, "Go to your bed. I'll deal with you later."

Henry slightly bowed his head, left the office, returned to the second floor, and sat on his bed, pondering what his punishment was going to be. Over the years, Henry had experienced food deprivation, many yardstick beatings, tongue-lashings, and the odd practice of isolation therapy. Which is it this time? He wondered.

After several hours of rest, Henry remembered the last thing Headmaster Heddon had said. He was going somewhere. He was going to be like all the others who left the orphanage. Where? He could not imagine in his wildest dreams what lay ahead.

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Catalogue Information

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