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 Fred Darch could not
carry his pretty bride over the threshold of their new
home in Bridgwater, because Fred is a polio cripple
and so is Anne, his dark-haired young wife.
But as he turned the key in the lock and gave Anne’s
wheelchair a little push, he watched her face with the
same half-shy pride any young man feels when he enters
his home with his new wife for the first time. And
Anne, her vivacious face filled with complete wonder
and happiness, whispered: “This is the home I always
dreamed of. Daddy couldn’t have given us a more
wonderful wedding present.”
Although at first
sight their house is like all the others in the road
with its neat front garden and crisp curtains, it is a
house with a difference. A house adapted to Anne’s
special needs as a cripple. A house which can help her
live the life of a homemaker fully and make the job of
looking after her husband easier. A house with
waist-level light switches, specially constructed low
electric stove and wide, sliding doors.
Polio struck Anne when she was four years old, but though it
left her confined to a wheelchair, she never let her
disability hinder her as she grew up. She kept house
for her father. She learned to drive a motor chair
expertly. Her friends knew her as game for anything
and boy friends were attracted by her cheerful, high
spirits.
But not until she got to know Fred, a telephonist, on a
holiday at a hotel in Worthing, where polio cases are
made particularly welcome, did she fall in love for
the first time.
Anne began to think of marriage, of a home of her own and
caring for her husband. And in the first sunshine of
spring this year the physically handicapped from all
over North Somerset came to Anne’s wedding at the
little church in Uphill.
Most of us have a dream home in mind, but Anne’s took my
by surprise when I visited her. “Aren’t I
lucky?” she exclaimed as she manoeuvred her chair
down the garden path to meet me. “Come and see for
yourself.”
I found the doorways and passage extra wide and all the
windows lowered. In her pretty sitting-room Anne had
three windows where she could look out on to either
front, side or back garden and was sure of getting sun
all day. Her kitchen, pale blue and white, had a low
sink with a wide space beneath for her chair to swing
under. The bathroom had a long white rail all the way
down both sides and opened by sliding doors.
“Everyone who built my home has been wonderful,” Anne
said. “The electricians have fixed the meter and
main switch where I can reach them. The builder has
laid gentle slopes from the French window and front
door instead of the two steps found everywhere else in
the road.”
So it was a truly contented Anne, having shown me her home
and wedding presents, who made tea for me. She pulled
a small table on wheels into position, collected cups
and saucers from the sideboard. It took her a little
longer than it would me in my own home, but the rock
buns were delicious, the chocolate sponge cake
feather-light.
“I already knew that running a home would be
harder for me than for most people,” Anne said.
“But I made up my mind that Fred and I would have a
well-run as well as happy home life. My father’s
gift has made that possible.”
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