Memoir, Early Years
I First Fell In Love At Seven
I was a damaged soul which meant the attachment I felt was extreme. Every moment of the day I cleaved to her. She was the one person in my life who made me happy
The version of me who first went to secondary school that early September morning, as the 1970s were creeping towards the 80s, was in many ways a product of her life so far. Although, generally a child of that era internalised most things, without attributing blame else where.
Years passed before I dared look in any depth at the circumstances that would have shaped me by the time I was eleven.
Starting primary school
I remember starting primary school and being — what many would class as — a bit of a scamp. I became friends with a child — Lyn — from an Irish travelling family who had recently been housed. Little did I know at that tender age that my birth family were descended from original Romany gypsies. Being drawn to one’s kind is a funny thing.
We lived in a suburb of south-east england. Every week day my brother who was in the juniors delivered me to school on time. However, if Lyn hadn’t yet turned up, I would walk out the school gates and head over to her house. We would then arrive late together, be hauled up in front of the whole school in assembly, and get caned by the head mistress. The Catholic school was run by nuns who wore habits that seemed to start at their forehead and end on the floor.
Lyn and I got into all kinds of trouble, sometimes pulling other girls in with us, and occasionally being mean to younger pupils.
Then something happened when I was about seven. I changed and let Lyn go. Another girl wanted us to play down the bottom of the field and I said no. I simply didn’t feel like having fun. Lyn agreed — we were a pair — and I looked at her and said, “you can go if you want to.” She did, and after we weren’t so close.
I was on my own for a bit. Out of choice.
This time probably coincided with the sexual abuse I was enduring at home from my adopted father. Thankfully, it didn’t go on long and wasn’t as extreme as some abuse survivors I know who suffered at the hands of an adult. But it happened, and had a profound effect on the person I went on to become.
I dramatically withdrew into myself, and changed from an extremely gregarious child to being very reserved.
Circumstances led me to Claire
Soon after, the class was put into sets according to ability, and now I had stopped acting up, the teacher realised I was bright. I was positioned in the top third of the class, opposite a girl called Claire.
I’d never noticed her before, yet soon fell heavily in love. Yes — a child can do that.
There was nothing special about her. She was extremely quiet and shy, but once we became friends I was aware she had definite likes and opinions, and we had a few of them in common.
However, I was a damaged soul which meant the attachment I felt for her was extreme. Every moment of the day I cleaved to her. She was one person in my life who made me happy. I wanted Claire to myself, and so did her best friend, Kay.
They sat next to each other and partnered up at every chance. At play breaks, I pretended to like Kay so both of them would let me hang out. Soon I was the accepted third in the friendship and received tea invites and such like. However, I wanted Claire to myself. I felt Kay was in the way… So would you believe I prayed to Jesus that she would disappear!
If you think I am sounding like a bit of a psycho here, you’d be right. The truth was I hated going home, and Claire seemed to genuinely like and care about me. Wanting Kay out of the way was simply self-preservation.
And you know what? My prayers were answered.
Kay’s family were Scottish and they decided to move back to Edinburgh. I attended the leaving party and was beside myself with joy! Finally, it would be Claire and me.
And it was.
Juniors
As we moved into the juniors and my home life became even more bizarre — dad left home after committing bigamy (yes, it's true —here’s the link) then within about a year he had died — I held on to the one solid person in my life, and she never pushed me away.
I think the reason I remember less about my homelife here, was simply that school was a better place for me.
Because Claire was shy and had a lot of neighbours as friends, at school she seemed as content as I was to not include anyone else in our games.
Our feelings were very intense, and we even developed a code language, so we could write private love notes to each other. Often we’d steal a kiss on the cheek from the other when nobody was looking. I can see now perhaps the friendship was not a healthy one.
I have a photo of me fighting back tears on the day I made my first holy communion, because I was not seated next to Claire at the communion breakfast after the ceremony.
I’d become too dependent on our friendship.
It was around now that I tried to run away, knowing I would never get too far. I had become rather introverted, yet my spirit remained strong.
Intervention
Claire and I had been inseparable since the start of the infants’ year 2 class. Each year this was an intake of thirty kids. Except for the group above, which for some reason was forty-five children. Nevertheless, our class always went up to the next one together.
On the first day of the school year, everyone would be in the playground. When the bell rang, the children had to stand still and wait for their name to be called, before lining up and getting taken to the new classroom.
What happened next took me a long time to get over. But I did, and got stronger.
It was the start of year 5. Claire and I had been a pair for three years. We went to each other's houses when ever we could and played over the park together in the holidays. I was standing with her when they started calling the names. We’d been checking out our new school shoes. She went to join the line and I stood waiting for my name to be read out.
But it never was…
My old classmates walked into the building without me. I was certain there was a mistake. That was my year group. My birthday was slap bang in the middle of the school year. I waited. Knowing I would be told off if I moved.
Only the forty-five year 6 children and me were left. I knew a couple of them slightly. They were always split into two classes, the first names were called and mine was included.
The teacher was a wonderful woman (not a nun), however it was strange nobody explained why I’d been put in with older children and excluded from the class I had been with since I was five years old.
A few hours later, two new girls were brought into the classroom who were the same age as me. They were told to sit on my table. Both of these girls, Karen and Victoria, would weave in and out of my life as my childhood years progressed. At that moment, I just wanted to see Claire.
Of course, I found her at break. We weren’t alone as I had been told to look after the new girls, so I had them in tow. Both, were feisty in their own way.
I was struggling with getting through the day without breaking down in tears, so couldn't wait to go home. Things had greatly improved since dad was no longer with us. Mum had a boyfriend who I thought was wonderful. However, on this particular day, I needed solitude.
As soon as I got upstairs, I went into the only room with a lock on the door— the bathroom — crouched on the floor by the sink and sobbed into my hands.
Life was just starting to make sense to me and now this. Separated from Claire and having to deal with a bunch of people I didn’t really know.
I have often looked back on the incident and thought how cruel it was. My mum wasn’t the sort of person who would have questioned the school. And in all honesty, I don’t think I mentioned to her how upset I felt. She worked and had enough to deal with, being a single parent in the 1970s.
I suspect the nuns decided Claire and I needed shaking up as we depended too much on each other. Perhaps Claire’s mum had concerns. Why I was the one who had to be moved, I don’t know. Claire had a very stable family life. Whereas, I could have seriously done with a break.
The new girls
It never ceases to amaze me how resilient a child is. Soon I didn’t seek out Claire. She began playing with the other girls in her class and I became friends with Victoria and Karen, and as the year continued, Claire and I shared less time together. Both of the new girls favoured me over each other, so I was never short of a partner in sports.
The teacher was particularly nurturing, and I began to steam ahead academically as I was with a bunch of older children. It has to be said, this intervention probably helped rather than hindered my general development.
I became relatively close to Karen and Victoria and had invites to their houses and also got to play out with them in the school holidays. Suddenly I had friends — not just one.
Year 6
Of course when year six came around there really wasn’t enough children to make two classes, so I was back with the main pack alongside my two new friends.
Victoria in particular was proving a hit with the others in our class. Even though at the start of the school year I stilled played with Karen, by Christmas Claire and I had found our way back to each other. But things were different. We both had other friends to keep happy, and soon we were socialising together in a small group.
I didn’t sit next to her until the last couple of months of primary school life as we were put into academic sets waiting to complete the 11 plus. An exam — like an IQ test — which decided if you were intelligent enough for a place at grammar school.
There were four sets. I was in the top eight of my class, those who were expected to pass. Many children were practising at home. My mum was not the type to hot house, even for a short while, however the nuns made it clear I was in for an excellent chance. But I was not interested because Claire was in the middle of the group, along with Karen and Victoria. If I failed, I would go to the Catholic secondary school with Claire. My mind was made up.
I find this version of me shocking. Too young to care about the future and even though we had been through a separation I was still in love with Claire.
The test came and all I was interested in was the fact that after the exam Claire’s mum was taking us out for a Wimpy. I didn’t try hard with the questions, but I enjoyed my Wimpy!
The final nail
Joy was mine. I failed the 11 plus, and as expected so did Claire, I was very happy. The secondary school for girls was Catholic, so had a great standard of education anyhow — and many of the other girls would be attending too.
Then, something odd happened.
In the late 70s, grammars were also treated as private education for children who hadn’t passed, or non-Catholics. You could pay the church money to send your child to a Catholic grammar.
Claire had a brother at the boy’s grammar, and her parents decided Claire should go to the girl’s one.
Looking back, it seems odd you could do that. A weird system as the grammars were teaching at a higher level. I know that Claire struggled to keep up and when we both finally left school I finished with better exam results than her.
My young heart had been broken when they’d separated us into different classes, and this felt like another cruel blow. Yet I’d made it through the first heartache (I feel a song coming on!) so I knew I was going to be OK. Not only that, I now had other friends who liked me as well.
About this time, my first friend Lyn announced her family was going back to Ireland. We struck up a friendship again before she left, and I even found myself with a boyfriend. Home was better, so life in general seemed brighter.
A little of who I had been, returned.
However, it was with a heavy heart, I went off to my new big school without Claire. Over the course of the next few months we got on with our lives away from each other and loss contact.
I made a vow to myself, never ever to have a solitary best friend again. And you know what? I never have… And over the years, my mum mentioned my attachments were often fickle… I’d learned my lesson well.
One more from my primary school days…
