Chapter 6

I showed Rose-Marie what I'd written about her. For the most part, she approved.

"I want to say my bit, Edward. Yours is a bit ... limited."

So ... here is her 'two pen'orth'...

As Edward said, I grew up in a very restrictive home environment. I didn't know any better, of course, and I was happy enough. When I was old enough for school, they sent me to a small, private, independent 'Christian' school. It was actually a very good school. Although less ... free ... than a State school, it was obviously far less restrictive than my home and I began to see my life could be different. I didn't really make friends because I wasn't allowed to got to parties with my class-mates or anything like that, but I watched them.

I thought ... well. My father, his church, had a very limited idea of what women were good for. Only a very few occupations – like midwifery and nursing – were considered suitable. I early realised that my one hope of avoiding a life like my mother's was to qualify in a 'suitable' profession so I could leave home and be independent. So I worked hard at school. I think the teachers must have been sympathetic, because they certainly supported and encouraged me, lent me books, that sort of thing.

When it came time for a secondary education, my father's options were limited. But for the law, I think my education would have ended at eleven. As it was, with gritted teeth, he let me go to a local Catholic school. He didn't like the Pope (what a masterly understatement) but the Catholic attitude toward women (and sex, though I hadn't seen that at the time) was almost restrictive enough to please him.

It was a good school, though, and I did well. I was surprised when I was allowed to go on to 'A' levels; I think my mother may have had a lot to do with that. I took English, English literature, Mathematics and Religious Studies. My teachers encouraged me with the English and Maths, saying with them I would have a wide choice of further study; they were the building blocks, so to speak.

I'd just sat 'AS' levels – I was seventeen – when my father called me to the living-room. Mother was there.

"Rose-Marie," he began, "your mother and I have been asked to go to work in Congo for at least three years. There's a mission there that needs a midwife and my skills will also be valuable to them."

I had a sinking feeling. Were they going to want me to go with them?

"We don't want to take you with us. There's ... some danger ... involved. It's quite a lawless area and there are some nasty diseases around too. So we're trusting you to stay, finish your education and look after the house."

I'm almost ashamed to say my heart leapt with excitement at that.

"Of course you must go, if God is calling you to that," I said, trying to keep my excitement out of my voice.

"Thank you." My father's voice was gruff. I thought I detected some real emotion there. Surely not?

Anyway, they went. They were out of the country when my results were published – four A stars – and I went back to school. I had an allowance that enabled me to eat. The bills were paid by direct debit. The teachers continued to support and encourage me. My eighteenth birthday came and went unnoticed by anyone; I didn't even get a card from Africa, but all that bothered me was getting top grades in my subjects. I was going to go to University and be a teacher.

Sheffield Hallam accepted me (conditional upon at least 'B' grades) in their Primary Teacher degree programme. It was in the bag. There was no way I was going to get grades as low as 'B'.

Edward has commented how thin I was. It bothered me too, a bit. But it wasn't entirely my parents' fault. My mother was a good cook and knew nutrition. No, the main problem was my focus on grades. I forgot to eat. Frequently, once I was on my own.

University ... was far beyond Sacred Heart School. I was pretty lost for a while. Oh, not the work, but ... for example ... we'd used computers at school. I could use a word-processor and I'd even 'surfed the net' occasionally. But ... unlimited access? I had to work mostly on campus as I didn't have my own computer, but oh, my ... some of the things I came across.

Then there was Cheryl Davies. She could have been the 'Compleat Bitch', but she wasn't. She took me under her wing, introduced me to her friends. It was hard to blend in, but she gave me a start and she encouraged me to have fun. At first, it was just chatting in the café. Or rather, I listened while they chatted, mostly. Then, it was going to a local bar for a drink. I'd never had alcohol before, but I found I quite liked white wine, and cider. I didn't much care for the feeling if I had more than one or two glasses, though.

Don't get me wrong, Cheryl didn't try to distract me from study. We were in the same programme and she worked ... well, perhaps not quite as hard as me, but certainly she was very committed.

She kept on at me about ... things, though, trying to get me to eat more, trying to get me to date boys. But ... I was so focussed and, honestly, scared, I kept fending her off. Until Autumn term of my second year.