My heart pounding, I could feel the blood rushing to my ears. I was screaming, running, crying. I felt as though I was flying with rage. Of course ultimately I knew that this would be the answer. From that beautiful, cherished moment of discovery in my conscious I knew what the out come would be. But those precious few hours before all was revealed I wouldn't forget. Ever. Oh! How I was bursting with pride and happiness. I was ecstatic, filled to the brim with joy, like an overflowing fountain of bliss. But those feelings of intense elation made the final decision worse. It caused me to be more heated and angry. Of course it wasn't their fault. I knew the situation but the short, sharp ‘No.........' had shattered my hopes into a thousand dangerous splinters that could never be put back together again.

 

What was I to do now? Carry on as if I was indifferent? I continued to run, distractedly, no notion of where I was going. I just needed to flee from the scene of my misery. I knew they were proud of me really, especially my father, I knew that in their own way they too were disappointed. But that did not stop the bitter, salty tears streaming down my anguished face. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. I had worked so desperately only to realise that this still wasn't enough.

 

The last thing I remember of that poignant day, which evoked so many emotions, was launching through those sturdy, antique doors, and hurling myself upon the hard, stone floor. I did not feel the force at which my muddled head hit the ground. I only felt the cold slabs against my tear stained cheek, which was strangely comforting.

 

The next few days were a blur. The only thing I truly remember is such a sharp, painful feeling of disappointment. They said that I was a silly girl. I had worked myself into a fever over nothing. Over nothing. Father understood why I acted in such a rash way; but Mother could not see why I was so extraordinarily passionate. Why, she implored, could I not be content as she and every other woman and girl in the street was? I have such a clear memory of those dreadful few days. My Mother and Father argued several times over the matter.

 

The worst moment was obviously the moment of delivery, after I had first announced the news to my parents. Such a promising day turned out to be so dreadful. The scene still repeats over and over in my mind. The results I was awaiting were so brilliant. I was elated. Well for a few hours at least. I recall presenting my fantastic exam results to them. My parents smiled and congratulated me, before exchanging hesitant glances. I excitedly regurgitated my carefully thought out plans. I had hardly started before my mother bluntly imparted the decision ‘sorry dear'.

 

I didn't have to listen to the rest I knew what was being said already. I had tried to suppress these depressing points but there was my Mother standing in front of me realistically telling me there was no feasible way I could go to Grammar school. They didn't have the money. She needed my help. There were already five little ones to look after with another on the way. She needed me. An argument ensued. Father tried to support my case. Some of his ideas were actually practical. But to no avail. Mother wouldn't agree, Heidi was not old enough to be of such a help as I was, it was compulsory for the boys to go to school. It was impossible.
My Mother agitated by all the drama as well as the demands of the daily grind shrieked at my father
‘What would be the need?'
Then pointing out the painstakingly obvious
 ‘She's a girl!

 

Yes and so I was, unfortunately. I was later to discover that gender had been the greatest barrier separating me from my sweetest aspirations. They were not very grand or glorious. Just the simple hope to attend grammar school, and the pinnacle of which would have been going to university. Then a quiet, useful life as a school mistress; perhaps even to direct or possible own an establishment eventually. But I did not want to exaggerate my modest goals. I would have been quite contented to have lived a life surrounded by books, knowledge, and the ability to enhance the lives of others with this priceless gift. They had been my precious dreams and the act of being severed from them, as if my head had been brutally decapitated from my body, had a disastrous and melancholy effect on the remainder of my life. 

 

My fate therefore was resigned to be a servant to my own family. I tried my best of course, but my heart wasn't in it. Mother and I had some terrible arguments. The pain was heightened as the others grew up. Pure torture. There was Alfie, Johnny, Heidi and George who my Father encouraged me to tutor. I had no pleasure in this and neither did they. They were more interested in child's play than listening to me. The boys would invariable play games involving lots of mud and dirt. They would come home splattered from head to toe. All of which I had to clean up of course. Mother was constantly weak from the burden of being continually with child. All the chores and order of the house was left to my direction. Father was exhaustedly working all hours to pay for our keep. It was my duty to the family but I cursed being the eldest born.

 

Heidi played at being a mummy all day, as did Sarah and Charlotte when they were old enough. Heidi especially adored mother. But I certainly did not want a life imitating my mother. Absolutely not. However, with my education taken away from me there were very few options. I delighted in the few hours a month I was able to spend immersed in my books. But gradually this happiness grew less and less frequent as the family grew larger and larger.

 

A painful period was when the youngest two, Alexander and Edward were in schooling. Both of them passed their examinations, not to the degree I did but they passed. It was unbearable to see the same enthusiasm in them as I had experienced. I tried to dampen their intelligence as I believed that they would only have their hopes flattened too. Although, I judged this wrongly because, as they were boys and mother wanted a good reputation for the family, an arrangement was made. For Alexander we all saved and saved our last tuppance for him to go to Grammar school. Even Thomas, who by that time had a small family of his own, was made by mother to give his contribution to dear Alexander's education. I could not help being resentful. The small amount I earned from my pay at the bakers shop was reduced to nothing after I had put money towards Alexander's education and the bills.

 

I despised my mother for all of her efforts. She disregarded my plight and yet put all her energy into Alexander's. I wondered if she really loved me so much less than him and why. Father saw my dejection even though I tried to hide it. I believe I masked it well from everyone else except Father. He tried to give me encouragement. He would buy me small inexpensive gifts, flowers, postcards; he brought me a book once. When I turned twenty one he even introduced me to a few respectable gentlemen to try and distract my torment. But it was always present. I was so jealous of Alexander. A grown woman jealous of a mere boy, it was pathetic. He was so proud in his new uniform and cap, finished off with his bright, shining shoes. Then it was Edwards turn. Alexander had gone into the successful world of banking by this time and paid for Edward's fees.