Stories by Margery Kenyon
Childhood
When I was three years old something really tragic happened, in the cold
waters of the Barents Sea, that radically changed my childhood and
affected my early education in many different ways.
On December 31st 1942, my nineteen-year-old brother, Eric, was a young
seaman in the Royal Navy on board HMS Achates, an A Class destroyer
which was protecting a convoy to Russia. According to the testimony of
survivors, several formidable German battleships, including the Admiral
Hipper, had been ordered to attack and destroy the convoy. Despite being
heavily outgunned, the escort ships beat off the attack and not one
merchant vessel was lost. Tragically, at 11:15am, Achates, which was
laying smoke to protect the convoy, was hit by gunfire. The ship sank
two hours later with the loss of 113 sailors, including my brother Eric.
One memory of Eric was when he was home on his last leave. I remember
him saying to me that when he came home next time he would buy me a
gymslip for when I started school. I also recollect him having two
apples and he asked me to choose which one I wanted. How he laughed when
I picked the big one! Even today, this memory stays with me, especially
when I re-read the last letters that he sent. He wished us all a merry
Christmas and asked for a photograph of me. He could not say where he
was with it being war time. His letter ended: "It is very cold here with
plenty of snow. So I have seen a white Christmas. P.S. There is turkey."
My mother was affected very deeply by this sad loss. It seemed that she
could no longer cope with a three year old child. Different members of
my close family offered to look after me until my mother felt better;
and so I was sent to stay at weekends and holidays with a variety of
aunts and uncles. Joan, my older brother Bill’s wife, also took a turn
whilst he was serving in North Africa. This "temporary" arrangement went
on until I was thirteen and old enough to make up my own mind.
The first port of call was the home of my aunt and uncle, Alice and Bert
Gadsby. Their three children Patsy, Shelagh and Mike were much closer to
my own age than my own family, since I was the youngest by eight years.
My new family meant a great deal to me because I spent a lot of time
with them and travelled to lots of different places. The Gadsbys were a
very happy family in spite of hard times. They were outdoor people,
visiting all the local beauty spots such as Bluebell Woods in Denton,
Polebank Gardens, Platt Fields and Wythenshawe Park. We used to set off
early in the morning with a bottle of water each and some butties and
would spend the whole day there – such happy times!
Another of my relatives was a captain in the Salvation Army around
London. And this enabled me to travel to many different places including
Reading, Hounslow, Oxford, Wimbledon and Uxbridge. We visited lots of
remarkable landmarks, such as Buckingham Palace, St Paul’s Cathedral,
Westminster Abbey, and the Brompton Oratory, where the services were
especially affecting. I have since been back there many times.
I especially loved going to a little mill town called Leigh in
Lancashire. My brother and his wife Joan had a small grocery there with
a bakery at the back of the shop. I used to lend a hand in the shop, but
I preferred to help out in the bakery where there was so much to do. It
was such a popular shop with all the local workers, who spent many a
long hour in the mills and weaving sheds around the area lining the
Bridgewater canal. The hot, mouth-watering pies were a particularly firm
favourite. One particular memory was the sound of their clogs on the
cobbles, which used to wake me in the morning.
Although I was always very happy to stay with my relations in this way,
I missed my mother and also lost a great deal of time at school. I
remember on one occasion that I actually lost six weeks of schooling
through illness. When I went back into school the teacher said to me in
a sarcastic tone, "What’s your name? Jennifer?" This really upset me
because all of the class laughed.
This unusual childhood affected me in many ways. There were good points
and bad points. The most important of which was missing out on basic
education – what used to be called the three Rs.
This was not helped by big classes and unsympathetic teachers. As a
result this made me unsure about learning and especially expressing
myself in writing. The good points gave me self-confidence and made me
more adaptable. There were many enjoyable moments meeting people and
travelling to so many places and being with different relatives. But the
most positive point about this was my mother’s health improved.
By Margery Kenyon