Someone to Love Us: The shocking true story of two brothers fostered into brutality and neglect
The harrowing true story of the young boy who captured the heart of the nation when he testified in court, to find justice against those responsible for his brother’s death.Terry O’Neill was just ten years old when he stood up in court to testify against his brutal foster parents, accused of the manslaughter of his twelve-year-old brother, Dennis.Terry and his brother had been taken into care and moved through many foster homes until they came to live on the Shropshire farm owned by Reginald and Esther Gough in 1945. There they were to suffer brutal beatings and little care or love – they survived as best they could, looking out for each other, until the terrible morning when Terry couldn’t wake Dennis.In a time when the country was united by war and struggle, the case shocked the nation and made headlines around the world. Terry, a small figure in the courtroom, captured the hearts of mothers and families everywhere, and the public outcry against the foster services led to the instigation of the first provisions to protect other vulnerable children from neglect and cruelty.
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Someone to Love Us
Terence O’neill
The Shocking True Story of Two Brothers Fostered into Brutality and Neglect
Dedicated to the memory of my dear brother “DENNY” (3 March 1932 – 9 January 1945)
Table of Contents
‘Hello, boys,’ Miss Edwards said, giving us a bright smile. ‘I’m here from Newport Council to see how you’re getting on. Does life on a farm suit you?’
‘It’s OK,’ I mumbled, but Dennis just stared at the ground.
‘Do you like your school?’
‘It’s fine,’ I said.
Mrs Gough, our foster mother, gave a big, false kind of a smile. ‘Go on, Terence. Tell Miss Edwards what you’ve been doing at school.’ She continued, without giving me a chance: ‘They’ve been making Christmas decorations and a nativity scene and he’s been learning all the old carols too. I keep hearing him singing them round the place.’
I didn’t think she’d ever once heard me singing in the six months I’d been at Bank Farm but I knew better than to contradict her.
‘Are you all right, Dennis?’ Miss Edwards asked him, and he nodded without looking at her. ‘You look awfully pale. Are you feeling all right?’
Mrs Gough answered for him: ‘He’s had a nasty cough but he’s on the mend now, thank goodness.’
‘He’s got huge dark rings round his eyes. Are you sleeping all right, Dennis?’
Dennis kept fidgeting with his hands while she was talking and wouldn’t stand still, as if he was nervous about something.
‘Answer the nice lady,’ Mrs Gough rebuked, and he cleared his throat and whispered ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘What do you do with your spare time, Dennis?’
‘I try to be a help,’ he said, his eyes to the floor, and Miss Edwards looked a bit surprised. ‘I think you should take him to a doctor,’ she told Mrs Gough. ‘The council will pay. Just let me know how much it costs.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ said Mrs Gough. ‘It can be hard to manage with two growing boys to feed.’
The two women chatted for a while as Dennis and I stood to one side, then, when she finished her cup of tea, Miss Edwards looked at us again. ‘So are you happy here, boys? Do you want to stay?’ She smiled, encouragingly.
I could see Mrs Gough staring hard at us with a nasty glint in her eye and nodding her head, letting us know the answer she expected us to give.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, and I think Dennis nodded. Inside I was miserable, though. I watched Miss Edwards pull on her coat and hat and walk out the front door and I wanted to run after her and shout ‘No! Don’t go! Don’t leave us here!’
But I didn’t. I didn’t say anything. I was far too scared. No one could help us. We just had to get through it on our own somehow.
Once, when I was four years old, I climbed up onto the car deck of the big Transporter Bridge in Newport. It was fun up there because when all the cars had driven on, the deck started to move, carrying them over to the other side of the river. I had my feet dangling over the side, watching the boats down below, and I thought I was the bee’s knees.
Suddenly a man in a uniform rushed up and grabbed me by the arm. He pulled me to my feet, hurting my shoulder, and shouted ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I was just looking,’ I told him.
He said that I could have fallen and been killed and he wanted to know where my mam and dad lived, so I told him they lived on Bolt Street. My big brother Dennis had made me remember the address in case I ever got lost.
The man said that my mam and dad would be going crazy with worrying about me, but I didn’t think they would. I usually went out for the whole day because Mam didn’t like me to get under her feet. She was always fussing over my little brother Freddie, who was only two, and she let me do whatever I wanted.
The man with the uniform made me stand right beside him until the deck crossed back over the river again, then he told me to run straight home as fast as I could. ‘Your mam will be making your tea soon,’ he said to encourage me.
I was pretty hungry but I knew there wouldn’t be any food back at the house. There hadn’t been any that morning, at any rate. I wandered up through the dock area and picked up some stones to throw in the water, but another man came running over and told me off.
‘What are you doing? You might fall in,’ he shouted.
Everyone was telling me what to do all of a sudden.
He asked my name and I told him it was Terry.
‘Fancy a biscuit, Terry?’ he asked, and led me to a shed over in the corner of the dockyard where he gave me two whole Rich Tea biscuits, which weren’t even broken. They tasted fantastic.
While I was eating them, he asked me if I came down that way often. He said he was usually there and I should look out for him so we could be friends. I thought to myself that he was far too old to be my friend but I didn’t say anything because he had been nice to give me the biscuits.
