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It was my sense of duty and loyalty to my King and Country that made me bring a boy into my home and interrupt my practiced routine. After all, I am obligated to help out any way I can in support of the war effort. If keeping a child safe from the possible bombing of London will help the cause then I will perform my duty gladly. I cannot believe that I was so quick to take in the boy being a man with no experience in the raising of children. I never imagined, after my dear Rachel and our son's deaths, that a child would ever be a part of this house, I could have chosen any one of the healthier, stronger children, instead of the small, thin, sickly-looking boy that was put in front of me. I still do not fully understand how I can do justice for this young lad, William Beech..
At first, I could sense the fear the boy had for me. Did he think that I would beat him, the cruel way that his mother had? I should have been more careful. I should have known that he would have thought I was going to brand him with that poker. It must have been very bad at home, with the poor boy's mother hurting him the way that she did. I can tell how bad it was for Willie just by looking at his body, all bruised and scarred. I wonder if he feels more at ease with me now than he did when I first met him. I hope he believed me when I told him I would never strike him with that belt, or with anything else for that matter, as his mother would have. I want him to trust me and know that I do not wish to hurt him, but I will not tolerate poor behavior, either.
Willie's so scared of everything. His mother has kept him in fear of things all his life. He is frightened by so many ordinary things such as squirrels and dogs, and even baths. I just can't imagine what it was like for Willie at home. He's got so much to learn, and I'll have to start teaching him. I'll do all I can for him and will try my best.
The past few days have been rather interesting here in Little Weirwold. The other day, the billeting officer came to my home with a poor little boy from London. The children from the city are being evacuated because of the blimmin' war. Anyway, the boy's name is Willie Beech, and a scrawny thing he is. His mother packed him with very few belongings, and it appears as if he has been beaten badly. Willie is a timid little child; he has had a hard time adjusting,
Willie's mother must have taught him some odd things. For example, he thought that beds are only for dead people, so the first night here he slept under his bed instead of under the blankets. He also thought that if he got in the bathtub, he would drown. Poor Willie has been wetting the bed, and he'd been getting sick from the rich food I've been feeding him. I bet he thought he was going to get a whipping for his "sins."
The poor chap doesn't know how to read, and he'll be turning nine in a few days. Willie tells me that in London he never had any friends at school, and his teacher excluded him from things because he couldn't read. Willie was so excited when he met a young lad named Zach who took quite an interest in him. I only hope that his first friendship turns out to be a good one.
I've been doing many errands with Willie these past few days. I took him into town to the draper to get some fabric for his clothes, and I bought him a pair of leather boots. I also let him buy a lolly and a comic. He was so happy! I was a wee bit sad when we passed Rachel's favorite store, the art shop, but Willie took a bit of interest in all of the paints and drawing pads. Yesterday Willie and I helped the lads next door work on our air raid shelter. He was getting awfully sweaty in his jersey, but he refused to take it off for he is ashamed of the markings from his beatings. I'd best be going now, for it is time to put Willie to bed. I'm a wee bit worried about my whole situation with the child. When I:first met Willie, I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to take care of him, but now, I'm feared that I:won't ever be able to let him go.
There has been a new addition to me life. Because we are on the brink of war, I was sent a little boy to stay with me. He's a scrawny, little thing and, at first, I didn't think that he would be very helpful to me. I thought he'd just get in the way, but that's changing.
William Beech is his name. He is eight years old but very small for his age. I have never seen meself a boy more terrified of life - ever. I shouldn't be talkin' though, because I know I'd probably be just as scared if I had been been through a life like William's. See, he lived with his mother, who used to beat him so badly that William's whole body is covered with bruises, cuts, and sores. Just from looking at 'em, I can tell how bad they'd be hurtin'.
When William first came to me, I surely thought something must be wrong because of his size and the fact that ha.kept throwing up and wettin' the bed. I took him to Doctor Little to have a look, and he said he was suffering from malnutrion.
Today, I saw what a help William could really be to me. He comes with me on my errands, and today he helped me build a trench. I noticed that I'm starting' to feel less lonely and am enjoyin' his company. I hope the boy is enjoyin' my company, too.
WIllie's been here a few days now. I ent too sure what I'm doing. It's been a while since I even thought about raising a lad like Willie. He's making me feel like a real father, though. But he's a nervous child. He's always trying to act like a blimmin angel, 'cos he's afraid I'm going to knock him upside the head. I ent that sort of man, a beater. But WIllie's mom was. Willie come here with cuts and bruises. She even sent me a package with a belt and buckle to hit em wit. I'm not too sure what it's going to be like having Willie as my kid temporarily, but it's quite confusing for now.
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