Peter Norris, 52, Wodonga, Vic.
Waking up, I was horrified to see blood on my pillows. “I’ve got a bloody nose,” I cried.
“What a mess you’ve made,” my foster father said angrily, belting the back of my legs.
It was 1977, and although I was only four, I could sense I wasn’t with my real family.
Two weeks later, I was in the garden when a tall man with big blue eyes like mine walked up.
“You’re coming with me, mate,” he said, picking me up and hugging me. Instantly, I knew he was my real dad.
Climbing into his car, I met my sisters, Tina, seven, and Kelly, six.
I learnt that after my dad, Clarence, went to prison for robbery when I was 18 months old, our…
