Some of you may have seen a FB conversation between me and an old school friend. This is a story I wrote based on what happened at a reunion, all true.
Renewal
The Reunion
Jean looked at the message in LinkedIn; who was Monica Stewart? Not one of her connections. The only Monica she had ever known was many years ago at the Northern Grammar school she had attended back in the 60s. They had been friends but had lost touch when Monica had moved to London to become an officer in the Met.
And, astonishingly, this was the same Monica. A Detective Inspector (retired) according to her profile. Well, she had certainly put her skills to good use as it seemed she had tracked down all but two of the last year at St Catherine's before it had been amalgamated with St John's. Monica was proposing a reunion back in Nottingham '40 years on' and had even managed to locate five of of their former teachers.
Jean had mixed feelings. On the one hand it would be lovely to meet up with old friends and visit her home town which she had not done since her beloved father had died twenty years previously. But, on the other....there were a few girls who, she remembered as being particularly obnoxious, especially that supercilious Gwenne who was so beautiful and remote and who never bothered with anyone much, she always had an air of mystery about her; and, as for the teachers, well, there were some lovely ones, but what if Miss Lavin was there? The one who had torn up her geography notebook because the work was so appalling? And that witch Miss Herrera who had looked down her beaky nose and told girls like her that they needn't bother to set their sights on law or medicine as they didn't have the background?
However, a few minutes reflection told her that both of those teachers would be long gone, they were ancient, even then, and the younger, nicer teachers would only have been ten years older than the class at most. And then there was a moment of overwhelming sadness as she thought of her dearest friend, Vicky. They had stayed close all through the years until six months ago when Vicky had finally lost the battle with cancer.
Nevertheless, it was still a daunting task to meet with a group of women, now in middle age, who would have changed so much.
It took a couple of days but Jean decided that she would make the journey north and arranged to meet and travel up with 'the London contingent'. Four of that class were now living in various parts of the capital but their paths had never crossed until now.
The journey was a merry one, catching up with forty years of life took some doing, and all were in admiration of Monica's sleuthing skills. No wonder she had been made Inspector.
Mary, one of the Nottingham set had arranged a tour of the old school buildings, now being turned into luxury apartments, followed by an excellent buffet lunch and bouquets of flowers for the teachers - all now retired, and she had sent exact instructions about meeting and routes.
So many faces, so many changed names, and sadly three of the class now dead. And Jean recognised no one except Cathy Taylor who hadn't changed a bit, still the same youthful face, slim figure and cheeky smile, she had always liked Cathy. And there was Evelyn, now a Senior nursing Sister, efficient and competent as always. Oh, and that must be Pamela, stuck up and snobbish. The one who had divided the class into Patricians and Proles in the Latin lesson. Jean overheard her in conversation explaining how their five bedroom house was really rather small and they had decided to buy a delicious Manor House in the dales. Not much change there then. But their old teachers were lovely, full of praise for their former pupils and interested in the paths that their lives had taken.
Jean fell into conversation with Cathy, and another woman, whose face she could not place, joined them. So many stories, so many reminiscences.
'Do you remember Gwenne?' asked Jean, 'she was always so elegant and poised and so immaculately turned out with those clouds of golden hair and tiny waist. Not to mention that disdainful expression.' 'And the boyfriend with the Jaguar' she added.
'Lord, yes' said Cathy, I never dared speak to her she always seemed a cut above the rest of us'.
At which the plump smiling woman who had joined them burst into peals of laughter.
'I'm Gwenne' she chuckled, 'and I don't recognise myself'. Jean and Cathy blushed with embarrassment but Gwenne continued 'Oh don't worry, I had no idea how others saw me. I was such an unhappy child back then. My father was an alcoholic and my poor mother very sick with MS. I had to keep the family together and protect my younger brothers from Dad's drunken rages. Mum couldn't do very much at all so it all fell to me.'
'We had no idea' said Cathy, 'but, how could you do all that, not to mention your schoolwork. You never forgot your homework, unlike us, and your results were amazing'.
'Just sheer bloody mindedness' said Gwenne 'I was determined not to let anyone know what home was like, so I used to get up at 5.00, each and press the uniforms, do the packed lunches and get Mum ready while Dad slept off the drink, and I worked hard at keeping face.'
'And then what happened?' said Jean 'you left at sixteen'
Well, there was no money to stay to sixth form, so I married the boyfriend, the one with Jag, we celebrated our ruby wedding last month'.
And so the day ended; laughter, a lot of love, a few tears, some had changed, some were just as mean and sour, but for transformations, Gwenne was the shining star.
Renewal
The Reunion
Jean looked at the message in LinkedIn; who was Monica Stewart? Not one of her connections. The only Monica she had ever known was many years ago at the Northern Grammar school she had attended back in the 60s. They had been friends but had lost touch when Monica had moved to London to become an officer in the Met.
And, astonishingly, this was the same Monica. A Detective Inspector (retired) according to her profile. Well, she had certainly put her skills to good use as it seemed she had tracked down all but two of the last year at St Catherine's before it had been amalgamated with St John's. Monica was proposing a reunion back in Nottingham '40 years on' and had even managed to locate five of of their former teachers.
Jean had mixed feelings. On the one hand it would be lovely to meet up with old friends and visit her home town which she had not done since her beloved father had died twenty years previously. But, on the other....there were a few girls who, she remembered as being particularly obnoxious, especially that supercilious Gwenne who was so beautiful and remote and who never bothered with anyone much, she always had an air of mystery about her; and, as for the teachers, well, there were some lovely ones, but what if Miss Lavin was there? The one who had torn up her geography notebook because the work was so appalling? And that witch Miss Herrera who had looked down her beaky nose and told girls like her that they needn't bother to set their sights on law or medicine as they didn't have the background?
However, a few minutes reflection told her that both of those teachers would be long gone, they were ancient, even then, and the younger, nicer teachers would only have been ten years older than the class at most. And then there was a moment of overwhelming sadness as she thought of her dearest friend, Vicky. They had stayed close all through the years until six months ago when Vicky had finally lost the battle with cancer.
Nevertheless, it was still a daunting task to meet with a group of women, now in middle age, who would have changed so much.
It took a couple of days but Jean decided that she would make the journey north and arranged to meet and travel up with 'the London contingent'. Four of that class were now living in various parts of the capital but their paths had never crossed until now.
The journey was a merry one, catching up with forty years of life took some doing, and all were in admiration of Monica's sleuthing skills. No wonder she had been made Inspector.
Mary, one of the Nottingham set had arranged a tour of the old school buildings, now being turned into luxury apartments, followed by an excellent buffet lunch and bouquets of flowers for the teachers - all now retired, and she had sent exact instructions about meeting and routes.
So many faces, so many changed names, and sadly three of the class now dead. And Jean recognised no one except Cathy Taylor who hadn't changed a bit, still the same youthful face, slim figure and cheeky smile, she had always liked Cathy. And there was Evelyn, now a Senior nursing Sister, efficient and competent as always. Oh, and that must be Pamela, stuck up and snobbish. The one who had divided the class into Patricians and Proles in the Latin lesson. Jean overheard her in conversation explaining how their five bedroom house was really rather small and they had decided to buy a delicious Manor House in the dales. Not much change there then. But their old teachers were lovely, full of praise for their former pupils and interested in the paths that their lives had taken.
Jean fell into conversation with Cathy, and another woman, whose face she could not place, joined them. So many stories, so many reminiscences.
'Do you remember Gwenne?' asked Jean, 'she was always so elegant and poised and so immaculately turned out with those clouds of golden hair and tiny waist. Not to mention that disdainful expression.' 'And the boyfriend with the Jaguar' she added.
'Lord, yes' said Cathy, I never dared speak to her she always seemed a cut above the rest of us'.
At which the plump smiling woman who had joined them burst into peals of laughter.
'I'm Gwenne' she chuckled, 'and I don't recognise myself'. Jean and Cathy blushed with embarrassment but Gwenne continued 'Oh don't worry, I had no idea how others saw me. I was such an unhappy child back then. My father was an alcoholic and my poor mother very sick with MS. I had to keep the family together and protect my younger brothers from Dad's drunken rages. Mum couldn't do very much at all so it all fell to me.'
'We had no idea' said Cathy, 'but, how could you do all that, not to mention your schoolwork. You never forgot your homework, unlike us, and your results were amazing'.
'Just sheer bloody mindedness' said Gwenne 'I was determined not to let anyone know what home was like, so I used to get up at 5.00, each and press the uniforms, do the packed lunches and get Mum ready while Dad slept off the drink, and I worked hard at keeping face.'
'And then what happened?' said Jean 'you left at sixteen'
Well, there was no money to stay to sixth form, so I married the boyfriend, the one with Jag, we celebrated our ruby wedding last month'.
And so the day ended; laughter, a lot of love, a few tears, some had changed, some were just as mean and sour, but for transformations, Gwenne was the shining star.
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