Twiggy

in
The Home from Hell

Twiggy

Dedicated to my ‘in-care’ siblings.

Published by www.clickaread.com
Copyright © clickaread.com 2008
Nigel King asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Proofread by Steven Meredith

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 Extracted by request from:

One Body Many Lives – A True Fiction

and
Public record information.

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 PART ONE
The Home from Hell

In 1968 I was taken to an independent boy’s home, which

was located in North Wales. I was taken by a social worker from
the social services department for Havenhead in Southall. There
are no official records available to me to explain why this
happened, or who it was that had authorised my placement in
care. Only my mother, who is unwilling to discuss the matter with
me, knows the true circumstances that led to my incarceration in
an institution that is now known to have been a barbaric place of
rapes, beatings and sexual abuse for many of its residents. I have
written evidence, supplied to me by Havenhead social services,
saying that no official records can be found that relate to my
placement ‘in care’.

The home was a community centre for boys, later described

in the national press as ‘The Home from Hell’. It was an
independent business that later became known as (name withheld)
Community (Holdings) Ltd. The home today, 39 years later, has
long been closed down after becoming notorious for offences of
child abuse that were committed, mainly by its founder, who I shall

3
call ‘Mr Shush’. He was a charismatic man who dominated, and
deviously preyed upon, the children placed in his care. He was
also able to mesmerise the adult care staff with his charm and
generosity. He also manipulated many officials, who considered
him to be a saintly maverick figure, challenging tradition and
revolutionising the approach to childcare.

The home became a dumping ground for unwanted children

throughout the 1970’s and 1980’s. It was also a very convenient
playground for its paedophile founder and his secret friends. Mr
Shush, who was just 24 years old when he opened The Home
from Hell, was eventually jailed in 1995 aged fifty eight. He was
convicted of indecently assaulting young boys, and received a six
year sentence. His twenty seven year reign of abuse was finally
exposed in 1995, although I know, through personal experience,
that this particular conviction only represents the tip of Mr
Shushes’ secret iceberg. He has since served less than six years
in prison, and is now a free man, as far as I know. Many victims,
some themselves subsequently imprisoned and not considered as
credible, and many more who are simply unable to talk openly of
the abuse they suffered, have never told the full horror story of
their time in The Home from Hell. Sadly many of the boys who I
knew are now dead, having committed suicide later in life. I believe
their stories will never be known.

Mr Shush probably abused hundreds of children between

1968 and 1990. I witnessed him abusing boys many times,
sometimes as many as fifteen boys in a single afternoon’s ‘medical
check-up’ session. These sessions were conducted in his private

4
bathroom on the first floor of the home; next to the clothing store
and laundry room where his wife sometimes worked. His 'modus
operadi' was to invite a selected number of boys, one at a time,
into the bathroom, whereupon he would lock the door and then
explain that it was his duty to inspect us for head lice. He would
then ask us to drop our trousers and underpants. He said he also
had to inspect us for other diseases, and would proceed to
massage your testicles and move his hand up and down the shaft
of your penis. This would not last very long and then he would
dismiss you. I remember my shame and feelings of guilt after he
did this to me.

The length of time Mr Shush has served in prison is an insult

to the hundreds of lives he dismantled during his reign. The effect
of his manipulative and evil regime has been far reaching. Many
boys, who resided in The Home, grew to be men who carried with
them deep, dark emotional scars that have never healed. Not only
has his reign of abusive behaviour ‘infected’ the lives of some who
were entrusted to his care, but it has also subsequently impacted
on the people who later came to share their lives with those of us
who had been abused by him. Some of those boys are now also
convicted paedophiles, and others have since been found dead
after committing suicide, or accidentally overdosing on drugs. The

5
lucky ones, many of whom had suffered sexual, physical, or
emotional abuse, have managed to scrape a life together after
escaping The Home from Hell, only to live lives cursed with crime,
broken relationships, low self-esteem and disabled hearts that
have struggled to really love or trust anyone.

The account of my personal experience in The Home from

Hell is by no means the worst experience that anyone ever had
there, but I believe it is probably representative of hundreds of
accounts that will never be written down. It is true to say that some
enjoyed their time there.

I, and many others, did not.

Mr Shush abused me many times during my time at The

Home. He also abused me in a tent in Spain whilst on a camping
holiday. He abused me in a bedroom in his private home that he
shared with his new wife, in 1970, and on numerous occasions
when we lay together in the dark, on Famoel Mountain in North
Wales. We were supposed to be playing war games against
opposing teams of boys and staff, but he was playing a game of
his own. I remember lying on the ground in the still of the night,
high on the Famoel range. Mr Shush would often choose me for
his team and then we would go ahead of the others to investigate
the terrain.

Once we were alone he would push me down and say that

the enemy was ahead. It was on these occasions he would press
himself up against me in a heavy manner. I could feel his penis

6
sticking in my bottom. He would move about and murmur quietly in
the dark. I honestly can’t recall any pain, I am not even truly sure if
he actually buggered me, or if he just enjoyed rubbing up against
me. I was a child, and I guess I just blocked it out. I think the actual
trauma has been erased from my memory. The last time he was
able to abuse me was in his parent’s home during 1972. He and
his wife were taking me to Cornwall to start a new life with my
mother and her third husband, Robert.

Mr Shush’s’ wife and parents were asleep, while Mr Shush

was masturbating me and sucking my penis in the darkness of his
parent’s living room. I lay frozen like a statute on a camp bed
pretending to be asleep. He later gave me money, knowing that it
was the last time he could get his hands on me. I think it was about
fifteen pounds.

I was, by this time in my life, sexually active and had

experienced many petting sessions with girls from school, in the
haylofts around the Clay area where The Home was located. I had
managed to have sex a few times but had never ejaculated, and
most of my sexual activity with girls was, up to this point,
unsuccessful. At around the age of twelve or thirteen I had
developed a friendship with a lad named Raymond. We had
started to masturbate at the same time when we realised that Mr
Shush was peeping into our annexed bedroom where we both
slept. It was located at the back of the staff bedroom which was
used mainly by Mr Shush. I do not recall any words or any formal
arrangements with Mr Shush, or with Raymond, but the nights of
masturbation were usually followed by extra treats from him the

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following day. Ironically, one such treat was a meal out with him in
the grand Merit Hall Hotel and Restaurant. This place later became
Mr Shush's ‘tycoon’ home. Raymond and I eventually took to
secretly masturbating each other and I think this affected my
sexual relationships with girls. I remember being paranoid that
people would think I was homosexual. This was another root
cause of my growing obsession with girls and sex. I wanted to
prove that I was not a ‘bummer’, and I later developed a reputation
as a ‘shagger’ who could get any girl he wanted. This reputation
followed me into my adult life and only ceased when I fell in love
with my wife Jane in 1989.

The Home from Hell grew to around eleven homes between

1968 and 1991. It was a very profitable business, dealing with
thirty eight local authorities in the UK, and had a published
turnover of twenty eight million pounds between 1977 and 1990.
Mr Shush expanded his empire and moved from living in a small
bedroom at The Home from Hell, with an old blue VW Beetle car
parked outside, to living in absolute luxury in Merit Hall. His private
residence was both a home and playground to the paedophile
tycoon. I visited his grand house many years later and was first
greeted by his wife. Within minutes of arriving at this plush
residence, I saw Mr Shush walk past the window of his large
games room. His hand was lightly draped over the shoulder of a
young blonde boy. I remember feeling extremely sick at this sight. I
eventually left Merit Hall after waiting three hours for Mr Shush to
come and see me. By this demonstration of aloofness, it seemed
he still had a mental hold over me, many years after I had last set
eyes on him. Without words or even seeing me, he was able to

8
frighten me away before I, like many before me, tried to confront
him about the past. I had gone to him in a desperate situation. I
had my son David with me, who was just a tiny baby, and I was
hoping to get financial help from him for me and my son to start a
new life. I left with some warm milk in the baby bottle that Nancy
gave me and nothing else.

When I was placed at The Home from Hell I was barely

eleven years old and had already experienced traumatic events in
my childhood that had left me emotionally disabled, deeply scarred
and very confused. I had been a patient in the Havenhead
children’s hospital in Southall, prior to being taken into care. I had
been officially diagnosed as suffering from a hypersensitivity
reaction, named erythema nodosum. Despite my mother’s claim
that I was telling lies about the pains in my legs, this condition was
later thought to be a reaction to the extreme emotional effect of
violence and mental abuse.

The day I was taken to The Home from Hell, a new

nightmare began, leaving a negative effect on me for the rest of
my life. Through my own subsequent research, I have learned that
I was placed into care at the request of my mother. I did not attend
any court hearings, I was not a criminal and I had never been in
trouble with the police. I also discovered that a social worker had
been a guest at my Nan’s guesthouse at the time I was taken from
the hospital to The Home from Hell. I wonder if there is a
connection. His name was Ken.

Years later I was told that I had been reported as being out

9
of control at school, generally very cheeky to teachers, and quite
often found playing truant from school, usually with Stuart O’Brien.
This was true, but I was not a criminal. I was just a confused, shy
and introverted ten year old abuse victim that desperately needed
protecting from my mother’s irrational and often emotionally
charged lifestyle. My mother had rescued us both from the
violence of my stepfather but her new life with her mother, and the
separation from my little brother Ray, was too much for me to cope
with. My mother had also suffered at her husband’s violent hands
and she was trying hard to re-build her life. My parents had failed
at both marriage and child rearing, but I was the one who paid the
price of their failure. I was given an unjust sentence without trial,
and taken away. This damaged me for life.

I do not know who made the final decision for me to be taken

to The Home from Hell. I do recall a social worker type collecting
me from the hospital after I had been taken to see the bald man
named William Tirem. He told me I was going to go to a nice boy’s
home in the countryside for a couple of weeks. This was to allow
my mother and grandmother some rest, and to help me get back
on my feet. I later discovered that William Tirem was a member of
staff at The Home. I also discovered that he had an unhealthy
interest in little boys. He ‘accidently’ touched me in the showers
whenever he had to opportunity and he often stood and watched
when I had a bath. I do recall the feelings of embarrassment and
shame. I did nothing about it because I was alone and afraid of the
consequences of challenging him.

I finally left The Home from Hell some 5 years later, in 1973.

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 The day I arrived at The Home from Hell was a day of terror
and enlightenment. I literally wet my pants when a boy told me he
was going to hit me. On that very first day, I smoked my first
cigarette, I saw another boy’s erect penis for the first time, and I
experienced what I would describe as a ‘possessions rape’; as I
sat on Mr Shush’s knee in the small staff room, I watched William
Tirem handing out all my toys and clothes to the other boys who
had come to meet me.

They told me to call them Jim and William, and they said
they were going to be like fathers to me. On that first day I was
made to shower naked in front of William. I remember lying in my
bed that first night, terrified and very lonely. I had realised that this
was not going to be a holiday and there were going to be no
games on the beach.

Within weeks of arriving at The Home from Hell, Mr Shush

started regularly masturbating me with an older boy named Colin.
Mr Shush would creep into the room and start touching me under
the blankets. He would bring Colin who would also touch me. Mr
Shush often hit Colin if anyone complained that he had tried to
touch them. Colin is now a convicted paedophile who has been
dubbed by the national press as ‘Britain’s most notorious serial
child abuser’. He was convicted of rape, later in life, and was
sentenced to nine years imprisonment. On his release from a
mental hospital he was found wandering the streets with a
colouring book and pencils, and he admitted he was trying to
entice children for sex. The young Colin had learning difficulties

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and was regularly beaten up by the boys in the home. I believe
that Mr Shush is directly responsible for turning Colin into the adult
sex monster he later became.

After two years in The Home from Hell I had managed to

change my image to such an extent that my mother, when visiting
for the first time in two years, did not recognise me when I greeted
her in the car park. I had a different haircut, and sported self-
inflicted tattoos on my arms. I was very thin and outwardly very
aggressive towards everyone. I was so thin that the boys gave me
the nickname ‘Twiggy’. My mother gave me a red and cream
coloured record player with a few records inside it, one of which
was the song, ‘He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother’. She seemed to
think this gift was adequate compensation for abandoning me. It
was not. I hated the bitch and I wanted to spit at her. I kept my
feelings inside and played the happy son. I had learned that
visitors often gave money and sweets to appease their own guilt at
leaving us kids when their visit was over.

The record player made me popular with the other boys and
it was used by most of them regularly. I eventually swapped it for
cigarettes and a dirty magazine. I hated my mother for lying to me,
and did not cherish anything she gave me. I remember writing the
words ‘fucking bitch’ on my leg with a biro pen. I despised her. She
like to project the image of a caring mother, but she was happy to
leave me behind again as she returned to her childless life. She
had abandoned my brother Ray and then she had abandoned me.

The routines in The Home from Hell were very disciplined

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and regimental. Every day began with a dorm leader, who was
usually an older boy, shouting at you to get out of your bed. We all
feared the dorm leaders because they were allowed to hit us and
humiliate us without being reprimanded by the adult staff. Standing
by your bed, half asleep, and quite often with an embarrassing
erection that was difficult to hide, you held on tight to your
toothbrush and towel in silence, while waiting to be ushered in
lines to the bathrooms, one dormitory at a time, in numerical order.
The bed making and cleaning up, before 7am breakfast, was done
with fanatical precision each day and the reward of points, given
by the adult staff on duty, for the tidiest rooms, were highly sought
after.

The dorm leaders were encouraged to be very competitive

and they would do just about anything to get the highest points.
Each of them knew that this would lead to them being rewarded by
the home’s founder, Mr Shush. The dorm leaders did not tolerate
bed wetting, and the other boys in the dormitory were ordered to
beat and whip with wet towels whenever a boy had a ‘little
accident’. This would happen almost every day. Later, when I
became a dorm leader for room six, I ruled it with a stick and
regularly humiliated a bed-wetter named James. I am ashamed to
recall the pain and exclusion I put him through every day, for many
months. After two years in care I too had learned to abuse, and
induce in others the same amount of terror that I had suffered
when I arrived. I was a boy who was beginning to emulate my
step-father, Angry Man, with violence and arrogance.

My life at The Home from Hell was mostly mundane and the

13
time was broken only with outbursts of violence between boys, or
arguments with the staff. Some survivors have commented that
they experienced happiness and good care in the Home. Perhaps
they did. They were the lucky ones who did not attract the
inappropriate attention from Mr Shush. Many still hail him as a
hero. It’s true to say that he could be a kind and generous man.
However, I would say that this saintly persona was part of his
elaborate and successful grooming process. I accept that he did
not abuse all the boys who were entrusted to him, but, he did
abuse me, and he has been convicted of abusing others.

Things considered as intolerable and cruel by those on the

outside, were the ‘norm’ in The Home. Everyday activities such as
eating, sleeping, washing, schooling and playing were regimented
and in themselves non-eventful, apart from constant shouting of
abuse at the staff. Food was never in abundance, and treats, such
as extra bread and chocolate biscuits, were rare and always
considered valuable currency. If I managed to steal any, I would be
popular. It was not unusual to be offered stolen booty in exchange
for doing favours, or as a swap for some cigarettes or dirty
magazines. Some lads would promise fags and chocolate if you
entertained them by hitting another kid.

The older lads would give you a fag if you ran errands for
them. The practice of gifts for favours was quickly learned, and of
course also practiced with more sinister results, by Mr Shush. If he
came into the dorm and quietly abused you during the night, you
could expect some sort of gift or special treat the following day. He
never discussed the abuse with you. I usually got a signed chitty

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from him that allowed me ‘out on trust’, and I would quite often be
taken by staff for a spending spree in a Wroxham clothing shop. I
was one of the best dressed kids in the home.

Wroxham, the nearest big town to The Home, was a hostile

place for any ‘Home from Hell’ boy. We had a reputation for
stealing and fighting and this caused some shops to ban us. One
shop, I recall, had a sign in the window reading ‘No Home from
Hell boys allowed’. It felt like being a black person in a deep-south,
racist ‘white’ American town. This type of exclusion just made us
all the more dependant on our 'saviour and protector', Mr Shush.
He was always defending us and promoting our rights. This was
the façade of the quiet abuser of boys. By day he portrayed a kind
and caring persona, but by night, some of us met his alter-ego.

Each unaccompanied visit to Wroxham was a test of bravery,

as local gangs of youths constantly wanted to test our reputation.
We were not allowed out of The Home from Hell in groups of more
than three at a time, so we were always at a disadvantage when
confronted by one of these mobs. We occasionally found one of
the local boys alone, walking behind the indoor market, and I
remember being party to the beating of one lad on such an
occasion. I just kept punching and kicking him in the face until his
tears, teeth and blood were on the pavement. I was terrified and
yet excited at the power of being in control.

On another occasion we cornered a lad on his own at the

railway station, and we dragged him into the toilets and pulled his
pants down. We left him crying and crouched in pain after we each

15
took a turn at kicking him in the groin and punching him in the face.
One of the lads with us set fire to his pubic hair with a lighter.

Attending outside school was also a daily ordeal that we had

to survive. We were taken from The Home each morning in a light
blue, twelve-seat Bedford van. We attended various small schools
in the surrounding villages. Each school had agreed to take a few
boys from The Home. I went to a school in Gerveny that shared
the same name as The Home, but was not connected in anyway.
The van, with The Home from Hell's name written on the side of it,
would drop us off in the morning and pick us up at the end of the
day. My school was built in the middle of a small Welsh village on
the outskirts of Wroxham. It was a ‘closed’ community and they did
not tolerate newcomers very well, especially those who came with
a reputation such as that shared by The Home from Hell Boys.
Parents told their children to keep away from us in school and
teachers found us to be convenient scapegoats for anything
broken or stolen. Some teachers even made us stand at the back
of the class to sharpen pencils and excluded us from certain
activities. We never did woodwork, cooking, or science. I think this
was in case we got hold of a weapon and took it back to The
Home. This was another form of exclusion that contributed to our
increasing resentment of other kids, and anyone in authority.

The truth is that we were usually in the middle of any trouble,

but we were not responsible for every misdeed in the school. We
responded aggressively when being blamed for everything. Our
notoriety did however make us popular with the girls, and this was
some consolation for the many canings we received from the

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headmaster. We were always caned as a response to our
mischief, no matter how trivial it was, because the teachers were
unable to keep us ‘on detention’ after school in case we missed
the van. I think most of the teachers viewed us as hardened
criminals and felt that they had more liberty when dishing out
corporal punishment. After all, our parents were hardly going to
complain to the school. They forgot that we were in care for
protection. They forgot that we were just children, like their own.

I attended my outside school along with a boy called Alvin.

He was one of my arch enemies within the home, but we always
stuck up for each other whilst at school. Alvin was a good little
Geordie scrapper, and he taught me to kick your opponent in the
face as soon as he was on the floor. He and I nearly got expelled
when a teacher caught us on the flat roof of the girl’s showers,
peeping through the clear glass dome window after the netball
session. They were naked and we were looking to see which of the
girls had tits and a hairy fanny.

The Home from Hell van was occasionally late, and this
sometimes led to fights outside the school gates with the local
gangs and older lads from the school. Alvin and I would stand
back-to-back, each armed with a stick or a brick, and take on these
contenders regularly. If we got caught fighting we were in big
trouble at school and even worse trouble at The Home.
Conversely, if we did not fight we were beaten up. School was a
daily challenge of survival that was only enjoyable on the days we
managed to get a girl, literally, behind the bike sheds, for a ‘fanny-
feel’ or a ‘tit-squeeze’. In the van on the way home, we often

17
compared smelly fingers to see who had touched the most girls.
Sticking your finger up your bum usually convinced the other lads
that you had been successful that day.

The Home from Hell was a cesspit of sexual deviancy,

violence and abandonment. Each boy had a horror story to tell
about their past. Some were ordinary little boys who were simply
the victims of divorce. Some boys, as young as nine, were already
hardened little criminals. Some clearly had special needs and
should have been getting cared for elsewhere. Some lads were
like men, whilst others were barely out of junior school, and yet
they often shared the same dormitory. My first two years at The
Home had changed me into a person who had learned to survive
by reflecting my surroundings. I was learning to be chameleon-like,
and was developing various personas. It was a hostile
environment, so I became hostile towards those around me. The
Home from Hell was a ‘living’ lie in itself, and everything about me
was also becoming a lie. My true self was quickly being eradicated
and I metamorphosed into a being that was to forever carry the
stigma of having once been 'in care'.

The nights in that home were sometimes awash with

buggery for some, and also the fear of beatings from older boys.
The horror of a pillow being pushed hard over your face in the
silence of the night while other boys whipped your body through
the blankets with their towels was, in some way, light relief from
the feelings of horror, invasion, helplessness and disgust that I and
others experienced when waking abruptly from a deep sleep to
find Mr Shush sucking your penis, his hand heavily draped over

18
your mouth. He would gently whisper “shush” with his finger over
his mouth and his breath would reek of alcohol.

The daytime was broken into segments of practical duties

such as cleaning, scrubbing and washing dishes. Each day was
also a regimental pattern of abuse, separation and
depersonalisation. The younger boys tried very hard to be young
boys. It must have been hard for us all in one way or another, no
matter how tough our previous lives had been. The young general
staff, for the most part, acted kindly towards us and they always
seemed to have an air of pity when they talked with you. A few
older staff were really good people who did care for us the best
they could. Many people will mention the same names when
reflecting on those who did their best for us. Some staff however
where hiding an addiction to child-sex. Many of them, over the
years, became far too violent when their patience ran out. I
witnessed boys being beaten, out of the sight of other staff and I
occasionally witnessed an older boy retaliating. It was a good
feeling to see a staff member suffer a bleeding nose or a kicked
shin bone. My fellow care sibling, David, who has also written a
book, was one of the boys brutally mistreated by a particular
member of staff. David’s book is entitled ‘You Little Bastard’, and is
available on my website.

A typical twenty four hours in The Home from Hell, as I

experienced it, would involve several outbursts of violence
between boys, leading to the medical box being produced and
someone being slapped or reprimanded in some other way by the
staff on duty. Many days included cruelty towards younger boys,

19
and the silence of night was often broken with the sound of a boy
whimpering under his bed sheets. There were regular outbursts of
shouting and name-calling amongst different groups. Trips to
outside school were a highlight of the week day for me. It was safe
ground between the horrors of abuse left behind and the daily
trauma of being targeted by parents, teachers and other children.

Sexual abuse was part of my life, I knew it was wrong and I

did not like it. I have struggled, as an adult, with the feelings of guilt
and shame. Telling someone did not seem an option. I don’t know
how other boys dealt with it. I just blocked it all out of my mind until
I was much older. Some boys were known to be ‘bummers’, and
you kept clear of them if you could. Colin was the one we all
especially kept away from. I remember one particular occasion,
sitting in one of the smelly toilet cubicles. I was still, like a statue;
silent, scared to breath as I listened to the painful cries of a young
new boy being raped in the next-door cubicle. I could hear the
thuds of his body as he was thrust against the wall of the cubicle. I
could see the shadow of his attackers under the gap, and I heard
his agonised cries of pain. I wanted to help him but was scared to
move.

Looking back at my time in The Home from Hell, I

understand now how I became a daydreamer and an exaggerator
who was obsessed with sex, frightened of men, and totally devoid
of any trust towards anyone. That place was like a kid factory that
took in damaged children, and mostly churned out completely
fucked up teenagers. The competition between the boys was
immense and unhealthy. If you wanted respect from the other

20
boys, you had to have a bigger dick than the next lad in the
showers or you had to have stolen more things, shagged more
girls, and you had to be able to fight better than any new lad.
When I arrived at The Home I was a non-smoker, I did not
masturbate, and I had never been a violent person. My nickname
after a few hours of arrival was ‘Ponsonby’. I was a ‘Scouser’ with
a posh way of talking. When I left I was known as ‘Twiggy’
because I was so tall and skinny. All my sexual boundaries had
been removed and I had become morally corrupt, just like many of
my peers and carers. After initially spending my time there as a
victim, I learned how to victimise, and I was soon amongst the lads
who regularly bullied the weaker ones, especially the new boys.

A skinhead haircut, a few tattoos and plenty of fags for

trading, was all you needed to get in with the bullies. On one
occasion a lad called Stuart arrived. He was bigger than me but I
had the psychological advantage, and I did not waste any time
establishing my authority over him. We had a scrap behind the old
oak tree at the front of The Home. I repeatedly kicked him, egged
on by the other boys, until he submitted. We often acted like pack
of wolves at a kill, and we were reminiscent of the kids in the film
‘Lord of the Flies’. His face was a mess and I was a hero. Some
months later, when Stuart had gained his bearings and confidence,
he beat me up. Years later, after we had both left The Home, we
met at a petrol station in Wullerton. I was posing in my big
American Pontiac car, which I was buying from my friend Andy,
and Stuart was in his smart company car, and wearing a suit. We
chatted briefly and arranged to meet in Wroxham some time later.
When we met, we had a good night drinking and reminiscing about

21
the old days. We both nervously disclosed to each other the details
of the abuse we had suffered as little boys. Sadly, a few months
later, Stuart was found hanging in his garden shed, apparently
another victim of suicide, just like so many other boys that had
shared The Home from Hell.

The continuation of my personal story is published in my

autobiographical book:

‘ One Body Many Lives – True Fiction’

Available at www.lulu.com/2003153

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 PART TW0
A few facts about The Home from Hell & Mr. Shush

The Home from Hell Community stands out in history

because of the large volume of complaints made against it. It was
a private organisation incorporated, by its founder Mr. Shush, as a
limited company, in 1972. He had acquired the lease, in 1968, for
21 years of The Home from Hell. It was a substantial property on
the outskirts of Wroxham. It had 50 acres of land and, although he
had had no formal training of any kind whatsoever, he opened The
Home from Hell as a children's home for up to 20 boys in the age
range of 11 to 16 years. I was 11 when I arrived there. He had
started with just three boys and circulated an advertising booklet
about his new project to most of the local authority children's
departments in England and Wales.

By 1974, The Home from Hell business had acquired the

freehold, which was eventually divided and extended into three
"houses", Shush named them as Askhim House, Whitley House
and Linda Farm. The company had acquired three other
properties. The first, of these additional properties, in Timat Road,
Wroxham, was purchased by Shush in about 1970 to provide
hostel accommodation for about ten working adolescents. The
second property, Pen Stale Hall, was a more modest country
house in the same general area. I spent a short time there after
also. This was opened on 27 September 1970 and was intended to
provide accommodation for up to 20 boys between the ages of 11

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and 13 years, that is, for younger boys than most of those at The
Home from Hell.

Mr. Shush had purchased, in 1972, in his own name but on

trust for The Home from Hell, Brutal Hall in Old Road, Craigley,
with which he intended to provide hostel accommodation for 15
boys in the range of 16 to 18 years. In the oral evidence that he
gave in his trial, Shush said that three local authorities, in particular
Montchuster, Hardcastle and Worral, placed substantial numbers
of boys with the Community with the result that, by 1975, over 70
were being accommodated.

Mr. Shush was born in 1941 but his family subsequently

moved to Chestershire, where he underwent training in hotel
management after leaving school. Shush was subsequently
employed in the hotel trade and became interested in residential
care work. He then worked in various private sector children's
residential homes, over a period of about six years, before he
moved, in 1965, to work at the Halibut Hotel, which was being
used to train adolescents in the range of 15 to 18 years. He
became interested in making alternative provisions for children
who, at that time, were being sent to approved schools.

In 1968, the owner of The Home from Hell had offered to

give the property to Dr. Barnardo's, for use as a children's home.
However, the offer was declined and Mr. Shush was able to
acquire a 21 years lease on favourable terms with an option to
purchase after seven years. In April 1969, in partnership with his
wife-to-be, whom he married in 1970, his parents and an uncle,

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Shush opened a children's home with 12 staff to provide for up to
20 boys in the age range of 11 to 16 years. None of the nine care
staff, other than Shush and his future wife, had any previous
experience of residential work with children, and none of them had
any formal qualifications. One teacher had experience in remedial
teaching.

From 1968 until he retired in 1990, ostensibly on health

grounds, Shush was, at least nominally, in charge of the affairs of
The Home from Hell, including care issues, although it was said by
one witness that he had divested himself of day to day control by
the mid-1980s. The private limited company, The Home from Hell
Community Ltd, was formed in 1972, on the advice of accountants,
and it appears that Shush remained chief executive until 1990. The
freehold of The Home from Hell was purchased with the aid of a
mortgage when the company was formed. Natalie Shush, his wife,
occupied the post of Matron until late in the 1970s.

Mr. Shush estimated that at its peak the Community was

accommodating 200 children and adolescents. The company was
very much a family concern, initially with Shush's father as
Chairman, Shush himself as chief executive, and his uncle was the
director responsible for estate management. Shush held a majority
of the shares with the balance in the hands of his wife, Shush
senior and his uncle

Henry Black (Black senior) became involved in the affairs of

the Home after selling his hotel to the company for £130,000 in
1977. He had run a large house near Wroxham, as Black Beach

25
Hotel in the 1970s but it reverted to its former name of Merit Hall
after acquisition by the Home and it was used principally as offices
but also to provide accommodation for some children and the
Shush family.

The Shush family had lived early on in their marriage in a

bungalow three miles from The Home from Hell and later spent a
time in other property owned by the Home. Black senior was
suffering from ill health at about this time and was advised to take
some work as a form of therapy with the result that he became,
initially, a volunteer in overall charge of the catering. He said in
evidence that he did not have any involvement with child care
matters, individual units, staff recruitment or the provision of
education either then or later, but it is clear that he soon became
increasingly involved in the financial affairs.

In or about 1980 Black senior invested £300,000 in the

company in return for a salary and an income on his investment. It
seems that in 1983, he accepted the appointment as chief
executive of the company but it is unlikely that this took effect
because in 1984, he was appointed Business Administrator of the
company for a period of five years at a salary of approximately
£13,000 (and Shush was still on the scene). Then, on 14 August
1984, he was appointed finance director, his employment and
salary continuing; and 2,000 shares were allocated to him in return
for a payment of £3,000 and a loan to the company of £20,000.

The documentation available and the complications of the

various property transactions make it impossible to trace financial

26
dealings between Black senior, Shush and the company. However,
it seems reasonably clear that Black senior made a number of
subsequent loans to the company and substantially increased his
shareholding at the expense of Shush. By 1990, his secured loans
to the company amounted to £356,000 and there was an
unsecured loan to Shush of £20,000. More transfers of shares
followed and in 1991 Shush was paid off.

It seems that by October 1991 Shush was indebted to the

company in the sum of about £210,000 on his director's loan
account. The agreement made with him was that he should
receive the equivalent of £510,000 for his remaining 13,695 shares
in the company, which were to be cancelled, and that an additional
payment of £50,000 was to be made to him and his wife as
compensation for loss of office. Of the £510,000, about £210,000
was to be in cash and was to be used to repay his loan account.

The balance of £300,000 was represented by the release of

a company car, the company's interest in a Brighton property, and
a French villa and a boat. (£200,000), Similar release of the
company's interest in a cottage (£80,000) and the transfer of the
company's 100 per cent shareholding in The Home from Hell Care
Ltd (£10,000), which had been a subsidiary of the company for
only seven weeks or so. There was a separate transaction also
immediately before this in which Shush transferred 1,300 shares in
the company to Black senior. The price ultimately agreed for the
latter shares was £26,000 but this probably took into account
Shush's personal indebtedness to Black senior.

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 The Home from Hell continued to trade thereafter with Black
senior holding 17,995 of the 19,405 issued shares (including 3,100
new shares issued on 16 October 1991). There were protracted
discussions with the banks in relation to their security for loans and
about re-structuring the company. Eventually, in 1995, re-
structuring was effected: the various properties were transferred to
a new company, The Home from Hell (Holdings) Ltd, whilst The
Home from Hell Community Ltd became the trading company,
carrying on the care and educational activities. There were
continuing registration difficulties, however, leading to voluntary
liquidation of the trading company in 1997. Black senior gave
evidence before the Tribunal in July 1997 but he died at the end of
the year.

Although the Home from Hell venture ended in financial

failure, it enjoyed about 20 years of considerable success and, as
late as 1990, it had about 150 employees. Shush claimed that, at
the height of the company's trading its annual turnover was about
£2.6m and the profit of the order of £80,000 to £90,000. Accounts
between 1977 and 1990 show that the total turnover, made up
almost entirely of payments by local authorities, was £28.25m and
that Shush's salary in 1988 was £204,894. However, by 1990, his
salary was shown as £50,000 (and Black senior's salary then was
£28,000).

According to Shush, his aim and that of the Home was for
the regime to provide an environment that was as close as
possible to that of a family: it was to be "stimulating and
responsive, a therapeutic environment". His idea was to provide a

28
wide spectrum of establishments for youngsters and adolescents,
ranging from residential special schools to various types of homes
for children and on to halfway houses preparing young people for
independent living, with later after care support for the vulnerable.
Moreover, each unit had to be flexible in order to cater for
individual needs, with a variable balance between containment and
instruction for the same reason.

The facilities provided by the Home were intended to be

essentially for long term care. Of the 172 complainants, it appears
that only six stayed for six months or less whilst the large majority
were there for periods of two or three years and upwards, the
longest for ten years.

Any account of the alleged sexual abuse by Community staff

must inevitably begin with the allegations against Mr. Shush
himself. We know of 28 former male residents who have alleged
that they were sexually abused by Shush whilst they were placed
with the Community and six have alleged that they were buggered
by him. Of these potential witnesses, six gave oral evidence to the
Tribunal and we received in evidence the written statements of six
others.

Shush was convicted on 9 February 1995 in the Crown Court

at Chester of six offences of indecent assault committed on young
male residents of the Home between 1972 and 1983. Each offence
involved a different resident. Shush was acquitted of four other
counts of indecent assault involving four separate former residents
alleged to have been committed between 1979 and 1984. Four

29
other former residents gave "similar fact" evidence. He was
sentenced to six years' imprisonment on each of the counts of
which he was convicted, the sentences to run concurrently. Shush
denied the offences and maintained his denial when he gave oral
evidence to the Tribunal on 16 and 17 February 1998 but there
has not been any appeal.

I finally escaped from the shadow of Mr Shush and the

institutional life, for the second time, when I was fifteen years old. I
was given a packed lunch and some cash, and then dropped off at
Wroxham train station. I set off on a new chapter in my life,
burdened with a mental and emotional illness that had not been
diagnosed. I was a scarred boy, with a mountain of confusion
regarding life in general, myself in particular, and my sexuality. Life
was not over for me, it was simply a new start. It took a further
thirty three years to unravel the knotted ball of anger, loneliness,
confusion, mistrust, and hatred that I had carried in my heart and
in my mind.

For more information about me (Twiggy) visit:

www.nigelking.info

www.brynalyn.co.uk

Nigel King – Survivor/Author

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