One Girl's Struggle to Grow Up

By Shirley Anne Carpenter

Story of a girl growing up despite several problems and insecurities, but a very exciting life nevertheless!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665588386

Book preview

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© 2021 Shirley Anne Carpenter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  05/06/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8839-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8838-6 (e)

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1   The Early Years

Chapter 2   The Teenage Years

Chapter 3   Finding the Woman in Me

Chapter 4   The Married Years

Chapter 5   The Divorced Years

Prologue

T his is my story, a story of growing up and learning from my mistakes. At times it appears I might have been slightly autistic (or stupid). I’ll let you decide on that one.

My upbringing could have been too rigid. A Victorian atmosphere where children are seen and not heard. Do as you are told, and Be a good girl were popular slogans. And I WAS a good girl (I thought). I obeyed ALL the rules, sometimes at terrible cost. And it took years for me to open my eyes and learn about life and make my own decisions. And also, to trust my own opinions, as I never had any confidence in myself. Eventually, as I grew, so did my confidence.

Hopefully, you may take something from my book which will help or explain your own life. Read and enjoy.

Chapter 1

The Early Years

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B efore I was born, I was supposed to be a boy. Mum and Dad had it all figured out. I was to be Howard, a younger brother to Glyn. Well, it didn’t turn out quite that way. Dad was obviously disappointed. He had nothing to do with me and virtually ignored me. BUT, Mum says that I was a child who would NOT be ignored! One of my happiest earliest memories of Dad was on a cold winter morning, in our little kitchen, when we were keeping warm with the oven door open, and I was on his knee. But Dad was so seldom at home...

So there we were, a war-time family. Dad was in the Royal Air Force, and Mum, like millions of other mums, kept us fed, clothed, and safe. We would all trot off to the shelter whenever there was an air raid, with Glyn leading the way. He must have been quite ‘the little man’, bless him.

Apart from the usual childhood illnesses, at age 5 or 6, I was taken very ill with nephritis. Touch and go, Mum said. Also around that time I had a persistent tummy ache. Dad apparently was tired of my complaining at the dinner table so they took me to the doctor. It seems my belly button was growing outwards. Another operation and I was sorted. I liked hospitals. Once they put a lovely dress on me, all tiny flowers of every colour, (mostly blue) and a white collar. I always remembered that dress and I wonder if I was allowed to take it home with me. When I was on a trolley the nurse who was with me said I was a very good girl. That was because the girl on the trolley next to me was screaming her head off! I never feared hospitals, doctors or dentists because if that is where I had to go, so be it. And I endured whatever had to be endured.

Then came my big lesson from telling a lie. I was in the Infants School, and I had put on a new silver bracelet that someone had given me for my birthday. I wasn’t supposed to wear it for school. Well, I don’t know when it happened, but before the day was over I had lost my bracelet! I was so scared to let Mum know so I said nothing. She had a friend round soon after and they wanted to see the bracelet. I went to fetch it but, of course, couldn’t find it. I said I didn’t know where it was. Mum went to search my room. The questioning went on and finally I couldn’t keep it in so I had to confess. She took me to my room, put me over her knee and she gave me several hard slaps on my bottom. That did the trick. I never told Mum another lie.

Reader, you are going to hear more stories of smacks but that was the way it was in my day. We were all raised with corporal punishment and it did nobody any harm, but a lot of good. It’s quick, hurts a bit, and then later the hugs and saying I’m sorry. Everybody happy (and lesson learned). It’s a pity they’ve made rules against it. It works better than sending a child to their room, or the naughty step, or taking their toys away

It was at age 6 when we lived in a house in Manchester with a big garden. It seemed big to me, but then I was very small. One day while I was playing, a man approached me. He was tall, slim and he had a moustache. He sat me on his knee and put his hand up my dress to tickle me. I don’t remember anything else but I told my Mum about it when I got home. There was no heavy drama. We were very English and didn’t make a fuss about much. But soon I found myself in a courtroom and was asked to climb some wooden stairs and stood in the ‘witness box’ to give an account of what had happened. Later I was asked to pick a man out of a line-up. That was easy. There was only one man with a moustache. I truly hope that he was the one! Anyway, no drama, no after-effects, and certainly NO COUNSELLING!!

AMERICA

It was during the Spring of 1950 that Dad emigrated to America. He sent for the rest of us three months later. Before I left my primary school, Mum instructed me that I must shake the headmaster’s hand before I left. I was only 7 and was really scared and very shy. But Mum told me to do it, and I always did what Mum said. I stretched out my hand towards the headmaster. I think he was surprised but he took my hand and shook it politely. Job done!

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We sailed on the MV Georgic. Quite an adventure. It was a bit choppy and we were sick. Mum had tried an experiment on us. She told us nothing of seasickness, hoping that we wouldn’t even think of being sick. Unfortunately, her experiment failed. It failed on EVERY journey (and there were plenty). During one episode of stormy seas, Glyn and I were on the floor of our cabin and suddenly got thrown to the other side, banging into the metal posts of the bunk beds, and a screw suddenly fell off! It was one of the Georgic’s final crossings, bless it. It was time to go into the dock!

New school for me. On the school photo I look like an orphan surrounded by all those healthy American children who were quite a bit bigger than I. One day a school friend took me to the local convenience store and persuaded me to steal some candies and crayons, which I did. When I brought them home, there was HELL to pay! My parents put my ‘loot’ in a bin outside and set fire to it! That put paid to stealing. Never again...

Mum didn’t have it easy. She bought curtains for our house and soon the neighbours complained. She had hung the curtains flowery side IN, plain side OUT. Just as we all do. But, no, in Springfield they wanted the pretty side to show to the neighbourhood. I wonder, were they playing a nasty trick on my Mum?

For the first (and only time) we were allowed to have a dog. He was a super German Shepherd. To name him, Mum let us all put suggestions in a hat. Glyn’s suggestion was chosen, so our dog became Wolfgang - Wolfie for short. He always met the school bus every afternoon and walked us home. He was lovely.

Things can’t have been easy for Mum. Unbeknownst to us, things had happened between Mum and Dad. Suddenly we were packing up to go back to England (without Dad). I think Glyn knew a lot more than I did. He overheard Dad call Mum a bad name and he never forgave him. So we were headed back home. I will never forget the sight of Wolfie running after the car as it took us away. I don’t know if I cried then, but I am crying now.

BACK TO ENGLAND

We left Boston on the MV Britanic (see photo), sister ship to the MV Georgic. Another wonderful experience (but seasick as usual)

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THE SWEET SHOP

We had nowhere to stay in England so Mum put us first with an old school friend of hers who had 2 girls. After about a week we were put with our Great Aunt Louie and Uncle Fred, who owned a sweets & tobacconists shop. Meanwhile, Mum went to a terraced council house in the slums of Moss Side, Manchester, presumably where her father still lived. I loved my Mum dearly but we never questioned anything. Auntie and Uncle were very good to us but they had never had children so I guess our upbringing was ‘different’. I was 9 now, and Glyn 12. I was there 3 years. When I was much older, Mum said she regretted leaving us there. I don’t think it affected me so much as Glyn. but who knows? He seemed always to be out of the house, very quiet, and usually alone. Age 14/15 - difficult age for sure. Neither of us ever had a hug from Auntie.

Every week the sweet displays in the shop window were changed for fresh ones. The ‘faded earls’ as Auntie called them, were divided between Glyn and me, and then fresh sweets were put on saucers to put in the window. No wonder I was always at the dentists having fillings. I got used to pain early on in life. And I don’t remember Auntie ever making me brush my teeth at night. Auntie didn’t have many rules (sadly). She was generous though as she bought me nice clothes and always got me matching ribbons for my hair. Every Saturday Mum would come. Lovely! It was over all too quickly.

Auntie had a dog named Lady. Sometimes she had a cat. But we had to watch the cat from time to time as it once did its business in the sugar bowl! If her cat had kittens, they all got drowned in a vat in the cellar (as was the custom in those days) but on one occasion a single cat managed to stay alive; Auntie heard it meowing, and so she kept