Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [57]
The original Come Dancing programme was on television at the time and, as a nine-year-old, I used to love watching those glamorous couples spinning around the screen. What little girl wouldn’t dream of wearing dresses like that? So Granny made me some wonderful outfits and I started classes. Like everything else I’d set my mind to so far, I excelled. I won badges for my foxtrot, my cha-cha, my paso doble. You name it, I danced it.
A year or two later I wanted a new challenge. This time it would have nothing to do with preparing me for meeting the Queen. To her credit, Granny didn’t baulk when I announced I’d like to take up judo, even though she’d really enjoyed dressing me like a dancing princess. But she did make me choose.
‘We’ve only got money for one class. It’s either judo or dancing.’
I had plenty of little trophies for ballroom, so martial arts it was. A year or two later, the familiar story: myriad colourful belts hanging up in my wardrobe. Such a desire to win at everything.
No sooner had I learnt to read than I wanted to do it all the time. There wasn’t an Enid Blyton or Nancy Drew book in the village that I didn’t devour. The more I read, the more I wanted to enact the adventures. Kids used to play outside unattended all the time in those days, so gangs of us would run around the local coppice pretending we were detectives, leaving clues and shadowing each other. I was pretty much a tomboy, I suppose. I even built and raced go-karts.
Church still played a large role in our lives, despite Grandpa’s epiphany. He was still a warden and we still attended every Sunday. I was a little star of the choir and Sunday School and helped Granny with the flowers and, even though I wasn’t sold on the religious aspect of it all, once again I found myself thriving on the routine. I loved tasks, I loved trying to better my previous work – and everyone else’s. When the church held a fête, I would spend weekends knitting and sewing and cutting and drawing and making as much as I could to sell. Whenever there was a craft show, you’d find me manning a stall, flogging my own little stuffed animals or table decorations. I was such a sweet little girl – I wonder sometimes where she went!
I loved keeping myself busy. After all those years of just hanging around with Mum, rarely having anything to do apart from household chores, I really responded to a full diary. I suppose I had Granny and Grandpa to thank for that, for packing my early life with events and inspiration. And I found myself realizing that Mum had had exactly the same opportunities. What had made her throw it all away?
By the time I finished at Saltdean Primary I had achieved just about everything I could. When it came time to move up to Long hill Secondary, I was genuinely excited. I must have thought my reputation as an achiever would count for something there. I was wrong.
It was a classic case of big fish/little pond syndrome. At Longhill, though, several little ponds merged and I very quickly realized I was out of my depth.
Whereas Saltdean was a lovely village school whose pupils played nicely together in the copse after class – as I did most afternoons with my friends Peter, Debbie and Sally – some of the other schools didn’t have such a good reputation. The kids from Woodingdean were like creatures from another planet. Granny warned me they would be rough and she wasn’t joking. The girls wore make-up and even the boys had pierced ears. Attitude, though, was the main difference. If there was a chair and a child from Saltdean and one from Woodingdean wanted it, Woodingdean would win. The same with books, sports gear – even dinner money. I’d been there a week before some kid even smaller than me demanded I empty my pockets. Bearing in mind some of the horrendous things I’d witnessed and experienced from people scarier than these, I’m surprised now how much it affected me. I don’t think ballroom dancing would have impressed these kids, but why didn’t I at least try my judo on them? I suppose part of my grieving process over Mum included putting as much distance