RAISING

THE

NATION

How to Build a Better Future For Our Children (And Everyone Else) // By Paul Lindley

Graham Handscomb, Professor of Education and former Senior Local Authority Officer


Turning the page

there is no live memory

of the visit … other than

a vestigial knowledge …

to this person labelled mother.

Burghill:

local byword for the insane.

Tucked away

in rolling countryside,

the hospital grounds open out

with the surprise of dislocation.

 

Occasionally the welfare log uses the official name:

St Mary’s Hospital,

striking an ironic chord

with the church (local to the foster home)

where – brothers both – we were choired.

Little that’s holy in Burghill:

anonymous tired wards,

medicated vacant faces,

bedlam persisting horror

of electro-convulsive therapy,

and padded cells;

‘benevolent’ constraint

for the less than compliant

… like my mother.

 

The log sketches the visit

in tones of professional concern:

By arrangement with Burghill Mental Hospital

I picked up the two lads and conveyed them to their mother.

‘Conveyed’ sounds anodyne enough but jars with what follows:

The meeting was certainly not a success as she appeared to scare the boys.

Hot stifling embrace that claims parental right –

She hugged them continually, demanding to be kissed.

The siblings choke and squirm

against cuddles which clinch and clasp;

enveloped by consuming fat folds,

imperious hugs which overwhelm;

the maternal stranger’s frantic need

to own,

assert,

identify,

stake possession.

 

The filial moment withers;

The pain of disconnect is cloaked with a shrug:

When she did not see the signs of affection

She pushed them away, saying they had been put against her.

Social worker calm proficiency gives way to alarm:

She acted in such a demented way

Best laid plans for family get-together

gothically transformed in repulsive scrabble;

I was obliged to go for a Nurse who fetched her away.

Tame reportage masking visceral struggle,

guttural protest,

primitive pleas

… for maternity denied.

Raucous dissent turns to pitiable whimper

echoing down labyrinthine corridors –

‘But I only wanted to hold my children!’

 

Bewildered stares now exchanged

between custodian and child,

the visit cast into sudden abandon.

Later rueful judgement closes doors:

Protecting, purging … and denying:

In my opinion it is wrong for the children to see her

I could not be a party to their visiting again.

The three figures leave, sharing unspoken trauma,

and the log adds a poignant coda:

I took the boys for a ride round the country

to help them forget what they had seen.

Read more essays