Runaway
In the very different environment of a state school I realised I had taken much for granted in my young life. I became aware of the daily struggle some families had just to put bread on the table. The injustice of a thriving class system left me confused and at times angry. I attracted undesirable ridicule because I spoke with what others consider a "posh accent" nevertheless I made my own friends happily avoiding the "gang culture" and for four short years managed to survive revolting school dinners and weekend retreats where silence was obligatory. At the end of this period the Sisters of Charity had achieved a small miracle where I was concerned.
Fast approaching my fifteenth birthday I was given the choice of continuing my education or taking a job as a junior secretary in a city firm. I argued my case telling my mother "I want to be free" she replied "you are never free, you are always answerable to someone, I am answerable to my parents" My father suggested I didn't have to work I could stay at home and help my mother in the busy household but I had another agenda, my own income would give me a certain amount of independence.
The Head Teacher concluded the interview "you have seven passes and a distinction, perhaps you might like to consider staying on with us in the newly created fifth form" Now I was deaf in both ears the urge to escape the convent walls strong. I had made my decision and politely decline her kind invitation. Later in life I would come to realise I had one outstanding qualification in the University of Wrong Turns.
The final day approached and the classroom fell silent as Sister Mary our English and form teacher stood to give her final address. I considered this nun a saint. By today's standards we were probably well behaved in the classroom although I had often been reprimanded for falling asleep in a Maths class, wearing my hair in a style that was considered provocative and gazing out of the window at a limping pigeon instead of concentrating on the lecture, but never in an English class. I enjoyed her lessons and perhaps because she was such a gentle person I probably took advantage of her patient nature at times.
Deep sunken brown eyes peered from her sallow face surrounded by the spotless white head dress. This morning she managed a rare smile "today you are leaving us to go out into the world, some of you will be tempted and some will fall away" Never ever thinking before opening my mouth the words were out, spoken with all the enthusiasm of a university zealot. "Oh no, not me Sister Mary" She turned in the direction of the outburst and smiled sadly. Perhaps this holy woman knew I would fall at the first hurdle.
My interview at Mackintosh & Sons was successful. The senior secretary May Sharples deliberately recruited her victims from the convent school. She was present at my interview with the office manager. May appeared pleasant enough, small, neatly dressed, never a hair out of place, a smile that never ventured past her lips. She walked with a pronounced limp one leg encased in a caliper. Cold steely blue eyes watched her young prey and she was always read to pounce. Eventually during casual conversation her agenda was revealed, she was a member of the Church of England and it soon became clear she was obviously involved in warfare with any other denomination.
The office was dark, dingy and smelt of stale tobacco. A small frail elderly gentleman with a twinkle in his eyes and a whimsical smile sat perched on a high stool smoking a pipe as he wrote in heavy bound ledgers at a desk that ran the full length of one wall with white pot ink well at regular intervals. Layer upon layer of polish gave a greasy surface on which former inmates had scratched their initials. The owner's grandson managed the stock warehouse and confided that the respectable May was not quite
what she seemed and that the office manager had a lovely wife. Although I had observed their regular lunch dates in my innocence I had never imagined anything inappropriate. I began to dread Monday mornings, the start of another week and after a particularly dreary day decided it was time to take action. I knew I had to remove myself from the predatory gaze of the zealous Miss S.
My catechism answers had proved ineffective to her constant probing. Seeds of doubt had been sown.
My parents continued to ensure my social activities included extended family, their friends and a Catholic Youth Club hoping somewhere down the line I would meet a suitable young man and of course he would be a Catholic. My father had quite a few Jewish friends and business associates and Sam and Peggy gained the title of adopted uncle and aunt. I always enjoyed staying at their home. On Friday evening candles would be lit and prayers recited before the evening meal their deep reverence for God very obvious. Much later in life I would own my first bible and realise my faith was firmly rooted in the God of Abraham.
Every lunch break I would visit the local office of employment who were surprisingly supportive and sympathetic however the vacancies were much the same. One day I received a telephone call. Would I be interested in a vacancy at a private hospital attached to the city's main infirmary. There were quite a few people on the interview list but the kind man who had been earnestly searching for my escape route said "the other candidates have higher qualifications but I think you are in with a good chance, it will be more a question of whether they think you will fit in with existing staff, background more important than academic prowess.
Thank you Father God - those were the happiest working days of my life. The senior staff were more family than superiors. I was trained in every aspect of management. I will never forget the polished wooden floors and the smell of rosewood that lingered in the reception area and lounge. The steaming jug of hot coffee delivered in our morning break. The gentle clink of tea cups announcing the arrival of the lovely Mrs Jones serving afternoon tea to the visitors, her daily visit to the office a chance to stop work and chat in an otherwise busy day.
Apart from helping my mother in the evenings I was now studying English at night school. Saturday remained the only morning I could just sleep in. I was allowed to attend church dances, escorted to and from the venue by my father. I joined a Catholic youth club and met a friendly bunch of teenagers. I was still very shy and unaware of being anything other than my elder brother's glowing description "she's fat, ugly and her teeth stick out" and I believed him. In every possible way my parents tried to ensure I mixed with what they considered "the right people - and their sons" but there was one place beyond their influence.
The time of testing approached without warning when one beautiful September morning my office door swung open and a young man walked into my life and stayed for forty years. A routine maintenance visit was to change my life forever. It would take a few dates before he would actually pluck up enough courage to kiss me goodnight, but when he did my fate was sealed. I fell deeply madly in love.
For the first time in my young life someone had found me beautiful. We were both innocents and within weeks William suggested that one day he would like to marry me. In the days that followed a friendship grew that would survive every obstacle life deals. We laughed at the same jokes, enjoyed each other's company to the point that my mother suggested "you have to have one night a week at home" Suddenly her helper was disappearing every evening and she was far from happy.
In fact William was considered totally unsuitable. He was, as far as she was concerned, from the wrong side of the track and an atheist. Alarm bells were ringing.
During the weeks that followed our first date every effort was made to discourage the growing friendship. Parental objection was obvious. Nothing could come of this. William was not suitable but this did nothing to dampen his determination. Banned from home we frequented theatre, local cinemas, Wimpy bars. Come hail, rain or snow we were happy to walk the streets totally oblivious to the cold and wet, just happy to be with each other. I doubt anyone could make a beef burger followed by apple pie, ice cream and coffee last that long and no fast food had ever tasted that good. Initially William's mother was equally unenthusiastic about the friendship but when it became apparent we were suffering considerable opposition she gave her blessing. We decided to get engaged on my twentieth birthday and my mother reacted badly, I was told I had to leave home. I loved my mother dearly, people commented we were more like sisters than mother and daughter and I never deliberately planned to cause hurt to either parent but my decision was considered defiance, unacceptable, a coldness descended that would never be truly vindicated.
Twelve months after our first meeting William completed his apprenticeship and was immediately conscripted in the last intake for National Service. After three months initial training the news came that his regiment was being posted abroad and would spend most of its tour of duty in Africa. William was anxious, he wanted to marry before he left the country considering my parents would do their very best to change my mind in his absence. I told him I would wait for him but he considered I should approach my father for his consent, failing that we should go for a Court Order. I also needed the permission of the church. An interview was arranged with the priest in charge of the Catholic church nearest his training camp. He would have to receive instructions and sign a directive regarding any children of the union. Wil sat patiently through the sessions and obviously agreed to the conditions however later he angrily declared "its blackmail - but I'll sign anything. I want to marry you.
We often argued about religion. His opinion of Catholicism seriously coloured by the behaviour of
both my parents and the bloody history of the church. He did not believe in God. His mother complained "William was baptised in the Methodist church, we tried to get him to go to Sunday school but he wouldn't go. He astounded his primary school class mates telling them "one day man will walk on the moon" and they probably thought he was "off his head" William was a child born too soon. He did believe, he believed that the answer was out there, it was just a question of space exploration some time in the future. At one point shortly after our engagement the arguments reached a zenith and I decided it was time to call the whole thing off. He was broken hearted and my resolve melted away. With a certain amount of arrogance I considered once we were married he would change, but William was not for turning.
Somehow the fact that I was so much in love gave me the necessary courage to face rising fear at the thought of confronting my father. I expected the worst. Walking through a smoke filled main office I approached his door. He was seated behind a very large executive desk and motioned to the chair opposite. I formerly asked his permission but added "we are prepared to go for a court order" He appeared somewhat taken aback but I momentarily glimpsed respect at my new found courage. He asked "can he keep you in the manner to which you are accustomed" I took a deep breath replying "I love him that's all that matters.
Eventually the wedding day arrived. I clearly remember standing shivering as my favourite Aunt slipped a long ivory gown over my head. Outside in the gloomy dank drizzle of a late December afternoon the wedding cars had arrived to take the family to church. Looking in the mirror to apply what little make-up I did wear an inaudible voice said "are you sure you really want this"
I turned to my Aunt and said "I don't think I can go through with this" She laughed "its just nerves - everyone has them, anyway its a bit late for second thoughts everyone is at the church" I knew my family were totally against this marriage and they had decided it would last a year. I couldn't help but wonder whether William would take his marriage vow in a church as binding, after all he neither believed in God or that a church service was necessary, only time would tell. I also considered the fact that I was about to make my vows knowing William had no intention of keeping his commitment regarding any future children.
Six weeks later I stood on a dreary station platform as the steam train carrying his regiment hissed and clanked into the driving rain. I was a grass widow. My father suggested "your place is with us until William returns" but my mother rejected the suggestion. Hurt and somewhat confused but intent on keeping fully occupied I joined the Red Cross and volunteered to work in a local hospital in my spare time. I wrote long loving letters to William and saved whatever I could for the day we would have a home and a life together.
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