Lowewood Academy

“Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!”

The Dashwood sixth form contingent joined in the cheers heartily. It was a long-standing tradition, this, for each house to commandeer the Prefects’ Common Room for a night in the last week of term for a house celebration. Dashwood’s turn had eventually come around, and here we all were. It’s meant to be a genteel occasion – no drunken debauchery here, just enough fizz for a flute each with which to toast Dr Higgins and Miss Golding – and for them, in turn, to wish us all the best.

Alex had led the toasts, as House Captain, and I stood proudly by as I watched my husband – husband!! – do his duty. I’m sure in two months’ time, when we move on to a rather larger educational establishment, it will feel a little strange to be small fish in a big pond, rather than the other way round, but of course I’m looking forward to it – anonymity can be a good thing too!

My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

“Penny for them?” asked Miss Golding, smiling at me.

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Joe Three held court in our room, with final bottles of booze he’d kept after handing over the whole stash to Charlie Ballincrea. He’d invited mostly girls, but boyfriends tagged along, and it all turned into an impromptu cocktail party.

“Isn’t it bizarre,” said Claudia. “Next time we sit at a desk, it’ll be at Uni, as freshers.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Mary Blake. “I’m doing a summer course, otherwise Dad wouldn’t pay for a single bedroom in the halls.”

There were sympathetic moans.

“Do they have desks at Uni?” asked Merlin. “Or are they more like tables?”

Nobody knew for sure.

“I don’t know how some people will manage as freshers, having lorded it over us mere mortals,” said Faye Dennington-Glass, grinning at Alex.

“Watch it,” he growled uselessly, completely relaxed as Pippa was giving him a shoulder rub.

Lydia and I squeezed each other’s hands in silent conversation. “Let’s go,” she mouthed.

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Oh, to be at Lowewood
Now that summer’s there,
And whoever wakes in Lowewood
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the youngest girls, once green from home,
Have sprung up through the years; have grown,
And soon will from that nest have flown
From Lowewood - now!

I lay in the grass on the banks of the Lowe, racquet and bag discarded beside me, and thought back to Pippa’s words from English that morning.  With all due tribute and respect to Robert Browning, her composition had captured a lot of the feelings we were all sharing now, as we entered our final days here.  It had left me in an unusually contemplative mood.

Mr Croft’s last assignment for his upper sixth class had been to write something which summed up our time at Lowewood or captured our memories of school in some way.  I am nowhere near creative enough to do more than a straight recollection piece.  But Pippa’s verse, read out in her clear, evocative style, had touched a chord with many of us. 

Suddenly everything had become so final; everything was about to change – both good and bad.  After all these years, I was doing things this week which I would never do again.  My last chemistry lesson…German…maths… No more uniform inspections or medicals or Saturday detentions – either suffering or supervising them!  No more school assemblies or trips, roomshares or pranks.  I’d be able to drink or smoke whenever I wanted to!  I had taken part in my final sporting event representing Lowewood Academy – and thankfully won it.  These last few months, during which I’d had the privilege of being Deputy Games Captain, were almost over.

In a few days’ time, I would never again be subject to a regime involving corporal punishment.

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