My French Catholic mother, marrying an English Anglican, had to promise to bring up her children in her own faith, writes Michèle Roberts. While we were at our mixed, non-denominational primary school in north-west London, we attended Saturday-morning catechism classes at church, which enabled us to take our First Communion. Secondary school was a small girls-only Catholic grammar (I got a scholarship so no fees had to be paid), run by old-fashioned, narrow-minded Franciscan nuns. Lay staff came in to teach most subjects, but the nuns taught us religious instruction (RI) and morality, and created an atmosphere of sentimental piety, superstition and repression. The alluring side of their religiosity was expressed through the ornate Victorian chapel and shrine-dotted garden, all the sensual delights of sung Masses, votive altars, May processions, incense, flowers, stories of ardent saints, carol concerts, feast-day revels.