AN old photograph rekindled memories of "a most wonderful childhood" for 65 years-old Mrs Devorie Lockyer of Checketts Lane, Worcester.

The picture, which appeared in my weekly feature in Berrow's Worcester Journal, dates from the 1920s and shows the old County Jail in Castle Street, plus part of a neighbouring house.

And it was the sight of this property which brought those memories flooding back for Mrs Lockyer. She had not seen a photo of Devon House, No.20 Castle Street, for many years and wrote to me earnestly seeking a copy.

As it clearly meant so much to her, I took a print to her home and was regaled with recollections of her memorable, but very eventful and sometimes emotionally traumatic childhood.

It was in 1935 that as a four-month-old baby, she was left by her parents with Dorothy and Cyril White, who ran Devon House as a boarding establishment.

Devorie spent her early years firmly believing that Dorothy and Cyril were her parents and that their children, June and Terry, were her sister and brother.

"Dorothy, who was known to everybody as Dot, used to enter me for beautiful baby and toddler shows, though, in truth, I was a little monster, regularly having tantrums and screaming blue murder. Dot also nursed me lovingly through diphtheria, septicaemia and whooping cough, very much as if I was her own child. She was a most marvellous woman

"I was given a Great Dane as a present, though the dog was too big for me to take on walks alone. Dot had to come. Despite its size, the dog was quite timid really, though it didn't like people to start running near it. In fact, a policeman ran out of the police station on the other side of Castle Street one day and, alas, my dog bit his behind!"

Devorie says Devon House was regularly full of boarders including actors appearing at the Theatre Royal. People moving around the country during the war also stayed there.

"I have a host of fond memories of Castle Street and Loves Grove. Even at the age of five, I would sit outside on the steps of Devon House, knitting or playing cards. There were also errands to be run to a bakery in Loves Grove and shopping trips into town with Dot, who would take a pram which always came back full of groceries.

"I was also sent down occasionally to the slaughterhouse where I would collect big chunks of meat marked with a green oil. It was horse meat meant only for dogs and went to my Great Dane.

"I would be given money to go to Parks's Baths in Sansome Walk, but I would often go instead, across Pitchcroft to the river, spending hours swimming in the Severn. It's a miracle I was never drowned though, to this day, I can swim like a fish!

"The living-room window of Devon House was my stage and I would pull back the curtains and act or dance about. However, I came to grief one day, falling backwards out of the window and having to be rushed across the road to the Royal Infirmary with a gash in my head."

Devorie would also sometimes go on walkabouts from Devon House, climbing out of bedroom windows and going across the neighbouring garden of an Austrian, Mr Kantz, who was a tailor.

She remembers "the old saltman who came round selling blocks of salt from a barrow and who wore a top hat with all sorts of feathers in it.

"I also vividly recall the Lannie girl with lovely black hair who sold ice-cream from a barrow at the gates of Pitchcroft. She would give my dog an ice cream when he put his feet up on her barrow, though I think the cost was usually charged up to Devon House."

Devorie went to St Mary's School for a few years, a fellow pupil being Martin Horton, who became the leading Worcestershire cricketer.

However, most of her schooling was to be at St Paul's where she felt she received a good education.

Emotional trauma was to hit Devorie and disrupt her happy childhood when she was about nine.

"One day a lady arrived at Devon House clutching a suitcase, and Dot announced: 'This is your mummy'. I immediately cried and screamed 'But you're my mummy!'

"I was then to discover that my real mother, who had left me with Dot and Cyril White back in 1935, was Ethel Brannan, who had married John Brannan, an employee of Pat Collins' touring funfair. He was a Scot who had the nickname 'Snakey Jock' because of the snake tattoo on his arm and as he kept snakes, using them, I believe, in a small side-show.

"Despite my tender years, I quickly had to come to terms with the hard truth that Dot and Cyril were not my real parents and that their children were not my sister and brother.

"My mother decided to take me away from Devon House to accommodation elsewhere in Worcester, but eventually found she could not cope with me. I was placed in a children's home but my father soon took me out of there and dragged me around the country with the funfair.

"It was a terrible time but he could see how unhappy I was and eventually sent me back on the bus to Worcester. When I arrived, the only place I knew to go was Devon House where I was readily accepted back by Dot and Cyril."

During her youth and adult life, Devorie was to remain close to Dot, but also had regular contact with her mother, who was living and working locally. Devorie also discovered she had a half-sister in Worcester.

Devorie's real mother died several years ago but Dot White survived beyond the age of 90, dying only two years ago. Into her 80s, she went on holidays to Majorca and Torremolinos with Devorie, the child she brought up but never adopted.

Devorie has also remained close to Dot's children, June, who lives in Worcester, and Terry, whose home is in Weymouth, Dorset.

Dot White long outlived her husband, Cyril, who worked at the Air Ministry in Worcester, for a long time. Dot's home in later life was in Turrall Street and she worked in a number of city pubs including the George and Dragon, The Saracen's Head and The Farmer's Boy - regularly turning out for their darts teams.

Devorie's working life was spent first at Windshields and then for 20 years, until retirement, with the Post Office at Worcester.

Clutching the photo of the old County Jail with Devon House next to it, she said: "I can still describe in detail every part of that place where I had a most wonderful childhood.

"It was for me, a house that had many happy tales to tell. You can understand why I dearly wanted to have a photo of it."