PRIMARY SCHOOL Church Drive Primary School, PORT SUNLIGHT
There was a small church school at the top of our lane, but for some reason, perhaps because my mother wasn't keen on the Church of England at the time, or perhaps it was too close for comfort, I started at Church Drive, which was a long walk every day. I have no memory of the infant's school and my memories of the junior school are hazy except for the dread and anxiety associated with maths lessons. The teacher would instil times tables by going round the class pointing at a pupil to give the answer to the next multiplication. I always dreaded that he would pick me out. I remember Art lessons in the hall, standing at an easel wondering what I was supposed to be doing (I was not an imaginative child), hoping I wouldn't drip paint on the floor; but one of the most well-remembered incidents was in Assembly; when we had been told that the next verse of the hymn was to be sung by the boys only, my friend Olwen carried on singing. Not wanting her to get into trouble I tried putting her right, only to be seen by the head, who called me onto the platform for a telling off in front of the whole school for talking in Assembly. I can still feel the burning sense of injustice felt then. I hated the daily compulsory 1/3rd pint of milk, sago and rice puddings dished up at school dinners. Very often I would feel sick with anxiety in the mornings, but could never persuade Mum to let me stay at home. One memorable incident was, when playing in the cloakroom at playtime when I should have been outside, a girl came in and told me that the King (George VI) had died. She was in a state of great excitement, but I continued to swing round the coat hanger pole, wondering what all the fuss was about.
Another dread was of children asking : “What does your Dad do?”, because I knew I was going to have to lie or “make up a story”. Mum always brought us up to tell the truth, be polite, attentive (look people in the eye when in conversation), don't interrupt other people's conversations. She always made sure we were clean, well dressed, spoke,nicely, had good table manners, and were obedient. In other words we were to appear to be a 'normal' family. Lying and stealing was a definite NO NO. How to deal with any innocent childish question? I used to say that my dad died in the war – to me this wasn't really a lie, because as far as I was concerned he was dead to me. As I grew older and Graham came along answers were more complicated – My father had died in the war, my mum had married again and he had also died. Then came the question: ”What was your mum's last name before she was married?” Mitchell. “How come she still has the same surname?” Because she was a Mitchell who married a Mitchell. By now I was feeling most uncomfortable about my made up stories and began to dread anyone delving into our family situation.
When I was almost seven and Graham about 18 months Mum had to go into hospital for a serious operation which required weeks of convalescence. Not able to have the support of her brother and sister-in-law, arrangements were made for me to go into Torpenhow Open Air School in West Kirby, (a residential school for 'delicate' children), and Graham was taken into care in a children's home somewhere near Knutsford.
On my return to Church Drive School I was put into a B stream class, whereas prior to going to Torpenhow I had been in an A stream class. Mum was furious, made an appointment to see the headmaster, managed to convince him that I'd not “missed any schooling”, showed him some of my written work, and demanded that I be transferred up to an A stream class. Mum won.
Mum and I had a close relationship, but it was not a physically loving one of kisses and cuddles. When talking to her about this, in later life, she said that, from birth, I would push her away: I was always fiercely independent and wilful. Whenever I seriously overstepped the mark I would receive a beating on my bottom with the back of her Mason Pearson hairbrush. I rarely apologised for any misdemeanour and would push her to the limits in our battles of will, whereas my brother, seeing the impending wrath approaching, would immediately apologise profusely. My relationship with Graham was, I suppose, one of tolerable conflict; we would row about most things we thought to be unfair.