In our experience
Two women reveal shocking truths about their past
‘MY FATHER’S SECRET ROCKED MY WHOLE IDENTITY’
Rachel Watkyn OBE, 52, lives with her husband, Steve, in Crowborough, East Sussex, and has three grown-up stepchildren.
As my father lay dying, he told me about a box of secrets hidden under his bed that would answer any questions I may have about my past. What I found inside changed my life forever.
I was brought up believing my father was an aristocrat, part of the noble German Gaisberg family. As such, I was expected to behave like a perfect young baroness. But home life was chaotic from the start.
Living in squalor
Despite my father’s aristocratic heritage, my two half-sisters and I lived in squalor. The farmhouse was freezing and filthy – dirty pots were piled outside the back door, we were constantly hungry and our clothes consisted of a huge pile of dirty washing, smelling of mould and urine. We were bullied mercilessly at school, where I was known as ‘fleabag’. My parents declared that only the ‘nouveau riche’ cared about such things; that other people were ‘peasants’. When we broke the rules, punishment would follow swiftly. There was no affection – my mother was often in bed for days and my father spent his time obsessively researching his noble heritage. Displays of emotion were banned – a stiff upper lip had to be maintained.
We had no reason not to believe we were aristocrats. The family crest was on the wall and, when I was nine, we moved into a huge Suffolk mansion, complete with a minstrel’s gallery. It had no heating, leaked water and was a pigsty, but it fitted the bill.
We were in touch with our noble German relatives, and even visited their huge, servant-filled schloss (castle). It was excruciatingly embarrassing, as I didn’t have ball gowns like the ones my relatives wore to dinner, or even a decent pair of shoes. Luckily, they were kind and found me things to wear, but even as a child I realised we didn’t fit in.
In my mid-teens, everything fell apart. Dad was made bankrupt – he’d been getting by on the occasional odd job, broken promises and borrowed money for renovation schemes that never materialised. I was thrown out of boarding school because the fees hadn’t been paid for a year, and we had to leave the mansion.
By then I’d had enough. Fending for myself had made me self-sufficient, and instead of staying with my parents, I sofa-surfed with friends I made while working to put myself through A levels and university.
By 16 I was supporting myself, working in various job
