The re-imagined story …
He was a bonny baby – and he was in such a hurry to get here. My pains began in the early hours of the morning and he was here before George left for work. There was barely time to send for my mother.
And he was so quick to do everything. Quick to smile – and oh what a smile that boy had – enough to melt your heart. Quick to sit up. Quick to start crawling.
“That boy is in a hurry to grow up,” said George. “Perhaps I should put his name down for the Works already.” We laughed.
Then one day he seemed different – as if someone had dimmed the light that shone from within. His cheeks developed two pink patches, but it wasn’t a bloom. I’d seen that look before.
That last night I paced the floor with him in my arms until his cry became a whimper. Then I sat in the chair by the window and looked across the darkened rooftops to the Works. I knew he’d gone.
I wondered how I could carry on. Prayers were of little comfort, but perhaps they helped Freddie on his way. In the cold December morning I wondered how the baby Jesus had survived, born in a stable in the middle of winter. I suppose he was a special baby but my Freddie was a special baby too.
We buried Freddie on December 24. I wondered if it was cold in Bethlehem that day, when Mary and Joseph were looking for somewhere to sleep, their baby already on his way. It was bitterly cold in Swindon the day we buried Freddie.
The facts …
Frederick Wm. George died on December 21, 1881 at 21 Sanford Street. He was 9 months old. He was buried on December 24 in plot number E6991, a public grave. After Christmas on December 31st he was joined by Minnie Elizabeth Purnell, a one year old infant from 19 Oriel Street. The two babies would lie together for more than 20 years until Matilda Pound, the wife of Thomas Pound from 44 Avenue Road joined them.