Trent, Passey and Jonny

After my year in France, I started at Trent College, an all boys’ school with an intake of girls in the 6th form. It was a public boarding school situated in Long Eaton a small town between Derby and Nottingham in the UK.

I couldn’t wait to go, Julia had attended Trent before me and she had loved every moment. She recounted stories about her friends, who was who, the daily routines, the 6th form club, the sports, chapel, meal times in the hall.

I started in September 1986, kitted out in my Trent College uniform. A blue blazer with matching skirt, a white shirt and school tie, tights and shoes. We improvised the uniform to suit the trend at the time, the tie was turned around to make it skinny, shoes had a bit of a stiletto to them, our hair was permed and backcombed. We were in the throws of Madonna and the eighties.

Trent had five boys’ boarding houses, Shuker, Wright, Blake, Wortley and Hanbury, and one girls’ house, Martin. The girls were outnumbered by 5 to 1 or something like that. Our house was across the road from the school, until they built a new Martin House within the school grounds. Our lower sixth and the upper sixth girls were the first to move into a brand spanking new house, it was rather like moving into a hotel.

The house was designed into separate landings. Five bedrooms shared a landing with a bathroom and kitchenette. Downstairs was a large common room and a laundry area.

Mr Passey was our housemaster, he lived on the property with his family. He was a stocky man with strawberry blond hair and a beard and moustache grown to cover a deeply potted skin.

His attire was a mixture of green and brown tweeds. He blended into the surrounds like an undercover agent. This was what he pretty much was. He was in charge of sixty girls who were potentially up to no good. There was some truth in that.

His gait was calculated and measured.

Mr Passey or Passey as we called him, had mastered the art of walking around the house so quietly you could barely hear him coming. Even the metal toe caps on his shoes were silent. He would appear when we were least expecting him, he had the air of being permanently suspicious as if he was just about to catch us out at any moment.

Understandably he had a lot on his plate, poor chap. This was a hell of a responsibility to take on.

I certainly didn’t help the situation.

Passey's undercover detective skills came out in full force during prep. It was the only time he was allowed into our rooms to check up on us. Prep was week nights from 7 to 9pm. We had to be at our desks all noses to the grindstone. Unless we needed the bathroom and then we were to go straight there and back without deviating or passing go, the strictest of rules were in place.

Oh my goodness, 2 whole hours of reading and quiet time, it was such a slog. Staring at my books, my mind would wander.

What shall I wear later.

Maybe I need the toilet. Yes I actually do.

The house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We were terrified of Passey. Sometimes he was on patrol, other times it was another mistress on duty. Prep time gave him a chance to snoop around checking everybody was studying. If he caught you, his voice would lower and the interrogation would start. The chances of getting grounded were high. You didn’t want that.

You know the rules, Sally.

Quietly opening the door I would stick my head out, look left and then right, then left again.

The coast was clear.

If I bumped into Passey I would simply say I’m going to the toilet.

So off to the bathroom I would go, as I made my way back, the temptation was to poke my head around Gayle’s door, check she was working hard.

She was.

What are you doing, I’d whisper.

My History essay.

Dammit, why can’t I do that, just get on with stuff, be sensible, act maturely, have purpose.

The urge was to fool around, tell a story, break the rules, live on the edge and do exciting stuff. I’d be mid way into a story when we would hear a door open ever so quietly.

Oh yikes, that’s Passey.

What to do, you can’t run, next best thing is to hide behind the door. Stuff a tie in your mouth to stifle the hysteria.

Then,

Knock, knock.

Silence.

Come iiiiin.

Passey peers his head around the door, a sickly sweet smile, Gayle, the prefect, has got her head in her books. Of course she has that’s why she’s a prefect and I’m not.

Everything alright? Working hard?

Gayle has now got a view of me behind the door struggling to muffle my laughter and Passey on the other side, barely centimetres away, none the wiser. He’s admiring her studiousness. She manages to have a short chat with Passey whilst grinning inanely and holding her composure at the same time.

I have grabbed anything I can muster to curb the outburst, I even attempt to stop breathing so as not to give the game away. I have hidden myself in amongst the clothes hung up behind the door.

Gayle and I and Oli the owl, Martin House

Passey knows something is up but scanning the room he can’t see anything untoward.

If he finds me I’m in trouble.

There were many moments like these. I ducked and dived and managed to dodge Passey at every turn. Hiding behind doors, jumping into cupboards, time wasting in the toilet, I was finding many more fun things to do than apply myself to school work.

My poor parents as they read this. I should’ve never given up on the acting.

I think we were dressing up, outside Martin House - left to right, Sally, Sam, Ali, Hetty, Charlotte

The bell to finish prep would ring at 9 on the dot. Barely a minute past and like clockwork, a silhouette would appear in the distance, sauntering down the pathway from main school towards Martin House.

Hands in pockets, feet splayed out, a distinctive way of walking and we could see a happy grin on his face as he got closer.

The girls knew who it was from far away already.

Sally, Jonny’s here for you!

We were allowed to meet up with the boys from 9pm, but we had to be back at the house by 10.30pm sharp. There was no time to lose.

I couldn’t wait to get out the door, I had already got my outfit on. Mixing and matching, borrowing and experimenting. A puff ball skirt, black tights, Doc Martens, a woolly jumper and a bow in the hair. Off I skipped to meet my darling Jonny Smith.

He was my first boyfriend, sweet, kind and funny and loved by everybody. I fell in love with his understated charm, his generosity of spirit and his easy going nature. I was lucky to have Jonny as my first love, we had fun together, I trusted and depended on him. He was a first team rugby player, could quite easily drink anybody under the table and was the life and soul of the party.

A perfect fit for a young, naive Sally who still had so much to learn.

Jonny and me, maybe after our 6th form ball