My Mocassins: A True Story

By Mary Honeybone

They say that fact is stranger than fiction.

This is a story of a girl who is brought up with very strict rules, but then starts to question just how binding they are. She finds the courage to put them to the test, and in doing so, goes through the believable and unbelievable consequences.

She loses everything and everyone in the process. She rebuilds her life. She gets through, only to repeat the experience again.

In the light of some present political and religious fanaticism, this book has a lot to offer about understanding the imposing of views on others, and believing that there is only one belief and one way of thinking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504938181

Mary Honeybone

Mary Honeybone has researched a lot of the culture and material presented, and she draws you along the journey with her, showing that whatever you believe can have very significant consequences, if those beliefs are imposed on others. She has experienced a lot herself and so is an authoritative voice on the subject of the story. Every emotion she takes you through, she has experienced herself. She hopes reading this book will inspire and encourage you on your own journey, whatever it might be.

Book preview

Part I

Chapter One

Don’t judge anyone unless you have walked in their moccasins for a moon

Native American Proverb

Libby was born into the lap of a mother who had her own silent tears, a mother who struggled with six children all under the age of 10, while still being very young herself. When Libby was just three years old, her mother described the child as having wisdom in her eyes, a cheeky sense of humour, and being a nice compact little person. Libby was the sixth child in the family. First there were two boys, and then in rapid succession four girls followed.

Married for twelve years, eventually, Libby’s mother left her husband, taking with her the four young girls. Libby was too young to remember the day her mother left, much less the time when they had been together as a complete family.

With her parents separated and living long distances apart – her father staying in the country for a while, and her mother living, first in the city and then in the country – Libby’s only experience of family life was the constant movement of children between parents, and the parents constantly moving homes as well. Generally, the girls were split into two groups, two being with their father and two with their mother. Only very occasionally were all four girls together with either one or the other parent.

As the parents moved around, so did the children and they experienced going to many different schools. They had to adjust to different teachers, different classmates, different systems of teaching. But Libby was a cheerful child. She just took each day one at a time and accepted what that day brought.

The day was just like any other day in Libby’s short but very full life of six years. Staying with her sister and mother, Libby got up one morning, as usual, dressed and then walked the mile to school. Lessons had started, but the infant class was interrupted in the middle of the morning by the headmistress. The infant teacher called Libby out of the room, telling her that her father had come to the school to see her. She gave permission for Libby and her sister to leave school for the remainder of the day. She knew that there was not much contact with the father of the family. She also noticed a glow come over Libby’s sister whenever their father arrived.

Libby was the last to be fetched from the school, and she walked out to meet her father, seeing him come towards her with her older sister walking beside him. Libby, so very excited to see her father again, ran up to him. Oh, David! she said with great enthusiasm and pleasure. She held out her arms to hug and be hugged and welcomed, but, instead, he froze right in front of her. He stood still, like he was stopped in his tracks. He looked very hurt. His face set like stone, a look which was to become an all too familiar feature.

He did not speak for a very long time. That cold, hurt face would be etched forever in Libby’s memory. That look went right through her and left her young heart full of guilt. The unspoken emotions of that day were in part to define their relationship forever.

Seeing his reaction and sensing the strength and raw emotion of it, Libby was completely mystified. Her own mother during this latest visit had insisted that she was no longer to be called Mummy; she had a real name, and that was the one that had now to be used. Mummy was no longer. Mummy became Yvonne. In her young innocence, Libby presumed that this was something which happened normally as part of growing up, that after the children’s infancy, parents were called by their Christian names. Obviously, this was a mistake, and in the course of finding that out, the damage had already been done. Unknowingly and unintentionally, Libby had hurt her own father very deeply – and unforgettably.

The two girls spent the rest of that day playing and relaxing on the cliff, enjoying the sea breeze, the fresh air, and the freedom. Libby’s father sat nearby, reading quietly. Instinctively, Libby kept away because she still felt his hurt keenly, but did not know why he had reacted to her in such a way. He continued the silent treatment, he continued to turn away and refused to speak, he continued to behave as though Libby did not exist, was not part of the family, and did not need to be noticed. Still mystified, Libby soon realised that her sister was still saying Daddy, and he was quite normal in his reactions to her. Libby had to work out the situation and reason for herself. Something which she would need to become an expert in at a very young age. Something which would become a real and necessary life skill quite early on. She learned to read situations and discovered how to react to them. Of course, sometimes she got it wrong, but it was often by going through the event that Libby learned what she thought or had done had life-changing consequences.

One of the times that the four girls were staying with their mother in the city and going to school, a big surprise arrived at the house, a surprise that could not be wrapped up – it was a baby boy! This boy was three and half years younger than Libby. This baby became affectionately known as Bee, for a time. He became a chubby, fair-haired toddler. The girls loved him.

One evening while all five children were in their beds, lights out, all tucked up and ready to go to sleep, the bedroom door opened, and torch lights shone around the room. The older girls were petrified, not knowing what was happening. What was happening? Who was coming into the home and into their bedroom? Who were these people? Were they burglars? The children had no idea at all and were very frightened. One of the men in the group of intruders told them not to be afraid, but why should they believe him?

They were told everything would be all right. All the intruders wanted was for the children to get up, get dressed, and go with them. They were assured that they had not come to harm them in any way, but the older children wondered why they should believe them. Why should they go with them, and where were they going? Libby had the instinct to understand the fear that her older sisters were experiencing on behalf of all the girls and the baby as well. On this occasion, all four girls were together with their mother, and the oldest was ten years old.

Without any options, they allowed themselves to be put in a car and taken away from their home by these people who portrayed themselves as friends. The children were driven somewhere in the dark and for what seemed like a long distance to them. Libby’s was totally bewildered, as the people taking them did in fact seem quite nice, and did not cause any worry, apart from why and where they were being taken and why so late at night and in the dark. Eventually, they arrived at a building which was quite large, set in a garden with clean block paving. The lady in charge kindly welcomed the children, and they were each given a bed to continue their night’s sleep. Here they were treated very well and given a good breakfast the next morning.

Their stay did not last long, and they were all shortly returned to their mother, with no explanation as to what all that was about, till many years later when the girls were told by their father that he had asked Social Services to look in on the children, and this was the result. The children had been found alone and all under age to be left alone.

Like Libby, her sisters were to learn very quickly that nothing would be explained to them, that they would not be given any answers to any questions they had, so they learned very quickly not to ask anything. This lesson was to be repeated again and again until it became the norm right throughout life, no matter how momentous or trivial the incidence would be, from parental mood swings to court summons.

After spending some time living in Bristol, they came to accept city life, with all its advantages and disadvantages – no garden, shops near at hand, and neighbours living in the same block of flats. The girls got used to the taunts of the schoolchildren, making fun of their rather unusual family surname Hayter and their dirty, unkempt appearance. But they never forgot the taunting, so a move to Cornwall, near to Heligan Gardens, was welcome.

Heligan Gardens were at that time in a wonderful state of wild overgrowth. Libby would occasionally roam the edges of the garden. The tall bushes, the ferns, the rhododendrons, and the darkness created by the bushes provided a challenging eeriness, a sense of the grandeur of nature when left to show off its full power. Libby could fit in among the undergrowth, with the large plants towering far above her. The smell of damp composting leaves mixed with the spores of the ferns and the scent of the flowers, all of it making for a wonderful, unmistakable knowledge of being lost in a harmless jungle. Being allowed to roam in the garden carried a risk of getting lost – and deep down, a fear that perhaps no one would really care if she did get lost – but it also presented the challenge of not getting lost, of returning to her familiar family surroundings safely.

Back in the home, which was approached from the road by a lane with tall hedges on both sides, there was no electricity, and the toilet was a bucket in a garden shed which had to be manually emptied almost every day – a job which the children were never asked to do, and Libby grew to have a quiet respect for the way her mother took on the task with no fuss and in very matter-of-fact way.

Taking a bath was time-consuming, as the water was heated by kettle on the wood-burning stove in the kitchen and then poured into a tin tub reserved for this purpose. Baths needed to be scheduled for each person, so it was not possible to have one more than once a week. Libby absolutely hated these occasions, having to bathe in the kitchen, with no privacy.

Another change in the family home during this time was that for reasons unknown to the children, their mother decided to be vegetarian. The diet was very healthy, with lots of pulses – brown rice, salads, and fruit from the orchard in the garden. There were plenty of dark-green leafy vegs. There was no processed food in the home at all. Not even tinned beans; they were dried and soaked overnight. Sometimes Libby would be given the job of collecting a bunch of sorrel leaves on the way back from school, and her mother would add these to the supper salad.

Sorrel had a slight bitter taste to it, almost like there had been a lemon dressing already put on the salad.

But nothing tasted as good as those forbidden custard creams! Those special biscuits which Libby kept all to herself. That wonderful creamy sweet taste that was never allowed in her own home.

Chapter Two

The best of men are but men at best

English Proverb

Ah, custard creams! Those biscuits were absolutely special, absolutely delicious. There was never anything like them at home. One of the farm labourers would sometimes meet the children while they walked through the farm yard on their way to school. He was a quiet character, a tall, thin, hard-working labourer. One day, he gave Libby a custard cream out of his lunch box. Libby, having got used to accepting whatever the day brought, asked no questions, accepted the biscuit, and thoroughly enjoyed it. This happened on several more occasions, and Libby really enjoyed the biscuits every time. She felt that, for once, she was noticed, singled out, and given something of her very own, something which was simple but treasured.

The meaning behind the proffered biscuits was a mystery, though. Until one day when this kind man told her why Libby the reason why he gave her biscuits from his own lunch box. He’d had his own a little girl once, but she had died when she was six, and Libby, six at the time, reminded him so much of her, it was like sharing his lunch with that little girl who still remained close to his heart. This made the biscuits even more of a cherished treat for Libby.

By this time, Libby had learned to have a healthy regard for farm animals, so when her mother decided to get a nanny goat to provide milk, Libby did not make a pet out of her; she left the nanny to do what she was bought to do, helping to feed the goat when asked to do so. But to produce milk, a billy goat was needed. The nanny goat, Petunia, was reliable, but the billy had a mischievous and wild streak. Normally, the goats were in the shed in the morning when the children started the walk to school. The children got themselves ready as best they could, for their mother was usually still in bed when they left the house.

One day, as the girls went up the lane to school, they heard a noise behind them. Looking round, they realised that something was coming fast behind them. It was the billy goat, Abraxus, coming full pelt, with head lowered, making fast tracks to catch up. He loved chasing anything and everything that moved, no matter what size. Petunia was bearable, but Abraxus was a smelly young thing. He had grown horns and knew no fear in using them, and he terrified the girls. Each ran as fast as possible to the nearest gap in the hedge, or through the nearest gate or even up the nearest tree, and waited for the goat to lose interest and turn back. When he finally did lose interest in the game of chase, he retreated. The girls found one other and then proceeded with the walk to school. Shaking with fright, they arrived late and were quite cold.

The headmistress was very concerned as to why these children who were so regular in being on time were late that day, and she took them all into the staff room, listened to what had happened, and gave them each a drink of hot chocolate.

That was the end of it, but still fresh in Libby’s memory was the day that their baby brother was found sitting backwards between the horns of Abraxus. The billy had just scooped up the toddler with his horns and carried him off, with the toddler holding on for dear life, riding on the neck of the very active animal.

For a few weeks during the summer that year, Libby was picked up in a minibus on Saturday afternoons by a couple who drove children to a young people’s Christian group in the local town. Libby really loved the couple and got to know them as Uncle Claude and Auntie Olive. Uncle Claude was a very black man, such as Libby had never before encountered in her life, but he was so kind in his spirit. He worked closely with Auntie Olive, an older lady who seemed rather like a grandmother.

Here in building of the Methodist Church, Libby had some fun with Christian action songs, stories, toys, and friends, especially Uncle Claude and Auntie Olive. Libby had never got used to making friends with children her own age, as she never stayed long enough in one place to form friendships. The church group was a wonderful experience for her.

At around that same time, preparations were beginning for the annual village fête, and Libby hoped her mother would allow her to go, but she did not expect to be allowed to go. Nevertheless, she was allowed, and even more special than having permission to go, the girls’ mother agreed to make costumes for them and let them walk in the parade! The costumes were made out of cotton petticoats which their mother dyed a light pink. All the eyelet holes were filled with fresh daisies, and garlands of daisies served as the girls’ headbands.

The girls were thrilled to be normal for once and so set off all together, taking the party clothes in bags, ready to change when they arrived. They timed the walk through the woods to arrive at the beginning of the proceedings, but while walking happily along the path through the woods, they heard a noise behind them. Looking round, they realised with great fear and disappointment what was behind them, and then, making a glanced agreement among themselves, they ran as fast as they could. They ran through the trees, through the thickets, not caring about anything else but their safety. They could hardly believe that it was Abraxus, the terrorising billy goat which had been safely secured before they left. Their mother had tied him up, and she was just a little behind the girls in the woods, carrying their baby brother.

Abraxus gave chase, running after the girls, a look of youthful amusement on his bearded face. The girls ran fast, shouting to each other to continue running, hoping to outrun the beast. But no. Being outrun was not an option for this guy. He pressed hard on their heels.

And so, armed with their knowledge of the countryside and the way animals naturally protected themselves, the girls headed straight for a boggy piece of land. They knew this was dangerous because of the likelihood of sinking, and therefore it was an area that they had always avoided. This time, however, fear drove them to make straight for the marshy bog simply because it was less terrifying than the billy goat! Abraxus, using his animal instinct, stayed at the edge of the bog, appearing frustrated that his scheme and game were over, and he had been got the