Eileen Cutter

Thanks Bernard for the beautiful photograph xxxxxx

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QUEEN OF MY HEART
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Became an angel at 10.30am friday 20th March,1959 Leaving behind her two little children Iain aged 4 and Alyson
aged 3.

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THIS SITE IS A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER EILEEN CUTTER

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Eileen Cutter (nee Scott) is my mother, she died on the 20th March 1959 10 days before my 3rd birthday. This is her story, and how her death changed the course of our lives. My mother was born on the 23rd September, 1929 to Maurice and Hannah Scott, they lived at 23 Peckston Lane, Great Horton, Bradford. She had an older brother called Derek. Eileen met and married my father in January 1950. They moved to Ravenscliffe Estate (Langdale Road.) Bradford. My mothers death 9 years later was tragic and accidental. It was a chance comment 12 years ago that made me bow gracefully out of my fathers life that spurred me on to find out anything I could about my mother. She was never spoken of, there were no photographs, no shared memories nothing positve said about her. From the little my father told meant that I had a few false starts. Thank goodness for the freedom of information act, I contacted the coroner, Bradford Royal Infirmary, St Lukes Hospital, Gp records, Yorkshire Archives, Telegraph & Argus, the registry office and visited Bradford Central Library to access the archives on the local paper. I have visited the funeral directors who conducted her funeral, sat in the chapel where the service took place. The saddest thing is that my mother lies in an unmarked grave, that my father has never been back from the day he buried her. I have spoken to the coroner a few times to help me rationalise and understand the events surrounding her death. I now know that extended family were informed by my father that she had committed suicide and this is not so. Her death certificate states death by butobarbitone poisoning the inquest gave a verdict of death by misadventure which the coroner explained was not suicide but a tragic accident the verdict was left open. The investigations into how my mother had the tablets in her possession proved that the hospital, gp and pharmacy had not provided her with them. I even borrowed a book from the library so that I could understand how the tablets would have affected her, for it tormented me that she may have suffered. She did not, within a short time of taking them she would have gone into a coma.The inquest also stated that my mother was not suffering from any mental health problems.
It made a huge difference to me that he death was accidental and not suicide, I found it hard to contemplate that a young mother with small children would want to leave them. My father tells me that at the end of February 1959 he realised she was pregnant(5months) and the baby was not his, he gave my mother the choice of keeping the baby and they move away, or to leave the marital home and her children. I do understand that in the 1950s life was so different to the present. I believe that my mother took the tablets to abort the baby, I think she was between a rock and a hard place and in that era there was little help for women to live independently. The mystery for all concerned is where she got the tablets from, (see photocopies in my garden of newspaper cuttings). My father becomes defensive and aggressive if her name is mentioned and I used to believe it was because he was so hurt by her passing, to destroy all the photographs of her was cruel. I
have memories of that day which I had shut away because I was afraid of them. On the morning my mother died I remember being stood at the gate waving to my brother Iain, he was going to nursery and I wanted to go with him and started crying. My mother scooped me up and patted my back she laughed and told me he would be home soon, I looked down I had black shiney shoes on. My next memory is of standing in front of her as my father pulled her out of the chair, he was shouting for the neighbours, I remember she had lace up brown shoes on. The ambulance came and as they took her out I followed crying, I thought they had put her in a bread van. The ambulance drove away and somebody picked me up. My mother died at 10.30am in the ambulance. Later that day we were in my fathers car, there was all kinds of things packed into it and he took us to live with his mother and sister Rose. I remember going into the house and my grandmother scared me and I hid behind a chair.

It doesnt matter how long someone you love has been gone the grief is for the rest of your life, Your mother is your first love and she gives unconditional care, encouragement and stands by your side. Imagine you life without your mother and you could never touch the pain my brother and I feel. It is assumed that children are resilent but they are not, children have neither the maturity or words to deal with pain. We were never asked if we could remember her but we could and did. There has never been a day since she left that I have not had a thought for her. She was never spoken of again, there were no shared memories, nothing positive said, nothing for us to identify ourselves with her. My father told me she had been buried in unconsecrated ground and for that reason he could not put a headstone on the grave, that suicides had to go in unmarked graves. When I did find her, the office at the cemetery made it clear that the ground was consecrated, and the only person who could put a gravestone on her final resting place was my father. I will never forget the feeling of desolation when I stood on that neglected piece of ground knowing that my father had never been back from the day he laid her to rest.

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In March 1959 my mother died aged 29, the cause of death was phenol barbitone poisoning. She passed away before lunch time, I was there, I remember her being put in the ambulance and running after it somebody scooped me up, Eileen died in the ambulance. We then left the home we knew and moved in with Grandma Cutter (Franks mother) and Rose (Franks sister). Rose was widowed with two children who were in their early teens. Rose took us under her wing, I was almost 3 when Eileen died, Iain was 4. My father also took care of us, he was a good father, and I have many happy memories of that time, we felt safe and happy and loved, Rose gave us the security of a mother and treated us well. Although my father and Nana Scott (Eileen’s mother) had not spoken since the day mum died, dad used to take us to Leeds regularly to see her. So we had the love of significant people in our lives, a constant stable environment.

Then five years later Rose moved into a house just up the road, I saw her everyday and spent a lot of time with her. Grandma Cutter died when I was 8. This left my father as the sole carer, we had extended family living nearby who also helped so he managed to work and still play a big role in our lives.
Shortly after grandmas death dad took us to Otley Park he introduced us to a woman called Dorothy, I had such a bad feeling about her. Dorothy had been widowed the six months previously, she had two small children, her husband Trevor had died aged 26 from suicide. Three weeks later dad married her. The day they were married we returned to the house they must have made a pact between themselves for dad disappeared upstairs returning with four biscuit tins full of family photographs many were of Eileen. My father knelt down and burnt them in the fireplace, he also gave Dorothy my mother’s jewellery. They were photographs Iain and I had never seen. Photographs that my father was too weak to hold onto for the sake of his children in later years.

Within a few days of the wedding I had my first beating from Dorothy, Frank had never smacked us, raising his voice was enough. We were also ordered to address her us mother, a name that felt strange to our lips and a title that she did not deserve. Four weeks after the wedding my father was waiting for us when we were going to school, he jumped out of the car and held us tightly saying he was sorry for marrying Dorothy, it was to be the only time he gave any indication that he had made a mistake.
Dorothy banned any contact with our beloved Rose, she told us we would never see Nana Scott again, we moved away from that area of Bradford to Thorpe Edge where Dorothy had lived with her first husband. Life changed for Iain and I it felt like a black cloud was covering the sun. For the next 11 years my brother and I suffered physical and mental abuse from Dorothy, she was a shallow, bitter self centred vain, greedy, cruel woman.
Looking back at that time I cannot find one thing that made us happy. We were physically abused many times she resented our being there. I never heard her say a kind word about anyone. Sometimes in temper she would tell me awful things about my mother screaming how terrible she was. I remember when I was 12 she told me in that my mother had topped herself, stuck her head in a gas oven because she couldnt stand me. Her abuse was relentless, she never knew when to stop. It was a bleak time. Iain escaped the awfulness of our life at 17 when he went in the army I was heart broken. We never told dad about the abuse to protect him. We had no one, Dorothy had ensured that all the people who loved and cared for us were prevented from seeing us, Nana Scott used to come to the school and we held hands through the fence. When I was 11 I went to a school in the city centre, for two years I secretly met Rose in the subway at Forster Square, so there was a break in the clouds now and again. Any cards and postal orders for Christmas and birthdays sent over the years from my Nana were never received by Iain or I, we know that Dorothy must have pocketed the money, binned the cards.

When I was 19 Dorothy left my father for another man and the sun came out. I asked Dad about my mother I wanted to know what had happened to her, anything, where she was buried. He became defensive, said he could not remember, what little information he gave wasn’t very positive or truthful and he told me not to approach him again about her.

I contacted Nana Scott and we had 6 wonderful years together, she became distraught when I broached the subject of my mother, she blamed my father for her death. Nana died in 1982. I was also in touch with my beloved Rose and she is still with us aged 85.

Ten years ago I was sat in my father’s kitchen, he had married again in 1982, a chance comment made that afternoon shattered my trust of my father and a few months later I made a decision to bow gracefully out of his life.

I began my search for my mother, it took until June 2004 to find her, there were times I had to leave things be for a while as it was painful, I wrote to the coroner for a copy of the inquest report, they had destroyed it, there were archives to visit, the central library in Bradford looking through micro film files I wrote to the hospital where my mother died, her GP, maternity hospital, the local paper. The registry office was not computerised and the man I spoke to there gave every spare moment trawling through records. I visited Ravenscliffe Estate and sat outside the house we had lived in. Finally I got a phone call in June 04 saying that her birth certificate had been found. I was given information on where she was buried. I will always be grateful to the man at the registry office for having the compassion to help in the search for Eileen. The next stop was Scholemoor Cemetery in Bradford, the staff in the office were so kind, Frank had told me that Eileen was buried in unconsecrated ground, I asked him what that meant and he said it means the ground is not blessed because its where criminals were buried. I was shown a very large old book with my mother’s burial details in, the staff explained that I would be visiting an unmarked grave, but it was in consecrated ground. They also gave me a map of where to find the grave. Nothing prepared me for the shock, I was looking at my mothers final resting place, unmarked, neglected and the knowledge that my father had never returned since the day he buried her. (Photo in my garden of map)

I believe that my mother was a good person, a beautiful soul and that the one person who could tell us the truth is my father and that is something hes not ever telling. Eileens death was accidental and I know from people who have contacted me through gts who knew her that she loved her children, she was kind,gentle and lived for her family. Somebody provided her with the tablets she took and they have had to live with the knowledge that Eileen died from taking them, a burden that must have haunted them through life. I had no problems with my father marrying again, but his choice of partner meant that my brother and I suffered,their relationship was toxic and as far as Im concerned they deserved each other. The comment made that caused me to walk out of my fathers life was 'your father always regrets that he did nothing to stop the abuse when you were little.'

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His choice of partner meant his children suffered greatly at the hands of a monster. Had he just done a little homework into Dorothys background he would have found out that her first husband Trevor had been widowed at 21 leaving him with a baby son. Gerry (memorial in my garden). When he married Dorothy he found out she was shutting the baby in a cupboard all day while he was at work. Trevor removed his son from his marital home and took him to live with his grandparents. He did the right thing he protected his son.

For Iain and myself there will always be a huge hole in our lives and hearts where our mother belongs. there are missing pieces that I will never find the truth about. So there we are , we lived in a dysfunctional family, we were victims of abuse, and survived and that makes us heroes. The other victims were my Nana Scott and Rose, to have us taken out of their lives caused them so much pain years of our growing up that were lost. It has taken years to untangle the after effect of our life in that household. For you never emerge unscathed from such a brutal childhood. It has been like a backward shadow following us until we had the courage and wisdome to face the pain of it all. It was bleak and terrible and we did not deserve it. Fragments of it will always remain with us. I know that any adult who is aware of abuse and does nothing is as guilty as the perpetrator. Although not a practicing believer of any religion I do know that 'What Goes Round Comes Round', for my brother and I it seems a long time in coming. I do not hate Frank or Dorothy for that would destroy me, I hate the bleakness of all they created. It meant there were no photographs of my mother or Iain and I as babies, so I went on a mission and visited relatives and stole the few photographs they had of eileen or us. I have put pictures in my garden of the newspaper cuttings and pictures of my mothers final resting place. The one good thing that came out of all this is that I never wanted to be the type of parents they were. Raising children is the most precious gift we could ever have. We all have a choice in how we are in towards our family and others. I never blame my past or use it as an excuse to opt out of taking responsibility for my actions.

We emerged from childhood with baggage inflicted on us that we did not deserve, living with a malicious jealous woman and a father who was very much aware of the abuse and failed to protect us from it. It took years to rationalise what we had suffered as children and pick up the pieces and
move on with our lives. Some of the damage has gone so deep that it cannot be repaired and you have to do the best you can with what you have. The choices you have is to either be a victim or move on with your life, and the latter is what we have chosen to do. The father I had is not the father I wanted for he is as guilty of the abuse as the person who inflicted it. I listen to the song called Dance with My Father Again which epitomises everything a father should be and feel a sense of loss, for my father was in our early years like the father in the song.

Thankyou for reading Eileens story. For all the candles and tributes and comfort all of you have given. The beauty of having found this site is that we can be the children who lost their mother, or the grieving adults and which ever we choose to be its accepted on here. Bless you all.

Alyson
Iain

♥ღ♥ Gone Only To Others by Ann Holloway ♥ღ♥

Others, who do not know,
Tiptoe around your name
Unaware that your name is silently
Written on my heart, my soul, my life
And inwardly I cry out to hear it spoken.

Others who do not know
Think of you as only in the past
And believe
That you only exist in my past too
Not understanding that you are
Past, Present, Future.

Others, who do not know,
Feel you as gone,
And fail to see the reality of you
Never being ‘truly’ gone from me.
The empty void of your absence
Is filled with your presence,
Your life will forever weave through mine
The divine bond cannot be severed.

Others who do not know,
Mistakenly may think that my love has been
Weakened by separation,
Feelings ceased,
Not so.
Entwined and strengthened
My love for you lives on
And has not died with death.
But you know all this,
If only others knew.