7. Defiantly Disobedient

Defiantly Disobedient and blatantly dishonest. That's me.

There are so many rules. They govern every aspect of my day and night. Some are prohibition rules and some are imperatives or orders. Some of them are written down and others I have learned by trial and error. Mostly error.

No running in the corridors

No talking in the corridors

No radios on before breakfast

No visiting other girls’ dorms

No talking after lights out

No showers or baths in the morning

No girl may use the front stairs or the front door

No trousers allowed (when wearing mufti - there are of course no trousers as part of the uniform)

Only one photograph on the bedside table

Only one teddy bear on the bed

No talking in chapel

No talking in the cloisters

No talking during prep

No talking in the corridors

No talking after the silnce bell

No talking... Be quite and be good.

No playing in the classrooms after school

No playing on the gym equipment

No playing on the stage

No playing in the music rooms

No playing in the dorm

No playing... Be quiet and be good.

All girls must:

Make their beds with hospital corners

Cover their beds with the counterpane provided

Polish their shoes every week

Wash their mufti (non-uniform clothes) by hand at the weekend

Change their bottom sheet and top sheet every other week

Hand in their uniform to be dry cleaned every 4 weeks

Wear berets and duffel coats (in winter) or blazers (in spring and summer) when going into town

Not eat (anything) when walking in town

Not be in groups of more than 3 in town

Wear their tunic tops on Sundays

Go to Church on the first Sunday of every month

Go to chapel every day and twice on Sundays

Wear indoor shoes indoors and outdoor shoes outdoors

Have a bath three times a week

Use no more than 3 inches of water in the bath

Leave the door unlocked while bathing so that matron can check the bathwater

Write a letter home on Sundays

Wear navy blue nickers for games

And there are more...

I find the rules baffling and suffocating. I don’t want to be a rule breaker but I can’t seem to help it. I don’t think I’m being bad, really, I do try.

I can never seem to walk down the corridor, there is always somewhere I should be and I am late again, so I run, chatting with whoever I’m with.

It’s so tempting to put the radio on while we get dressed in the mornings. A little music helps it feel less gloomy and institutional. This is strictly forbidden and I can’t afford another Order Mark, but I can’t help myself, so I tune into Radio 1 on the lowest volume. Matron has sharp ears, she must have an inbuilt radio radar and we rarely get away with it. My order marks stack up.

After prep it’s chapel and then dinner. We have about half an hour of free time after that to play. We are not allowed in our dorms at that time of day, not that it would be any more entertaining up there. Of course, there is no telly but we are allowed to play music.

Mostly we hang out in the hall, messing about on the gym bars (which we are not allowed to do) or making up dance routines on the stage (which is out of bounds) or lolling about on the grass outside if it’s warm, accompanied by David Bowie or Genesis or Queen.

The bedtime bell goes and we head up to the dorms. Another bell signals time to get into bed and Matron does the rounds to turn the lights off. There’s no loving goodnight or wishes for sweet dreams, rather she barks out instructions or admonitions as she moves around the room drawing the curtains.

“Get into bed now! The bell went 5 minutes ago”

“Sophie Boss, pick up your dressing gown you slovenly girl”

“Carline Carter, how many times have I told you not to leave your wash bag on top of your bedside table, put it away right now”

“Amanda will you put that book away”

“Emma, stop snivelling, honestly, don’t be such a baby”

She flicks off the lights on her way out, onto the next dorm. We have about 10 minutes until the next bell; the silence bell. We talk in the darkness. It’s not an easy time of day as we lie there, eight young girls, all in need of a little bit of love at bedtime.

Caz is a strong character and can be quite bossy. She has a thing about who wears knickers to bed under their nightie and tonight she has decided to make us all prove that we are knicker-free. We are all too scared of her to protest. One by one she asks us if we are wearing knickers and we all say no. I feel embarrassed and angry. This is wrong. When it’s Emma’s turn she says no but Caz doesn’t believe her. Caz says she has to stand up on her bed, lift up her nightdress and prove it. She doesn’t want to do it, she tries to protest, feebly. I want to ask Caz to stop but I know she won’t be contradicted. I'm too scared. Emma is standing on her bed, trembling and saying she doesn’t want to. I think she has knickers on and I don’t see why she has to take them off if she doesn’t want to but I’m too frightened to challenge Caz. I feel weak and ashamed of my cowardice. I like Emma and I want to stand up for her, but I daren’t.

The silence bell rings.

Emma slides back under the bedcovers and there is silence for a bit. And then Caz starts up again. I’m barely listening as she and Amanda and Pam are chatting and giggling. I lie there, feeling sad and angry. Then Caz asks me something and soon I’m talking too. We’re all talking, filling the space so that we don’t have to close our eyes and fall asleep in this cold, lonely place. The door flies open and the dorm is flooded with light.

“Who was talking? Own up, come on, WHO. WAS. TALKING?” Shouts Webb.

“I was,” says a small voice. “And me,” says another “Me too.” One by one, we all own up.

“All of you will see Miss Havard in the morning,” she says as she switches off the light and storms out.

We all know what that means. My heart sinks and eventually, I fall asleep.

The next morning, after breakfast, we queue up outside the Headmistress’ study. One by one we step forward.

“Sophie Boss, you are defiantly disobedient” she bellows. “You’re gated for two weeks, the lot of you” she adds as she looks down the line at the others.

Being gated is the worst, it means I can’t leave the school grounds, at all. It means no exeat, no going to town on Saturday. No freedom. At all. I mumble an apology and shuffle miserably back to the dorm. We are all gated. Even the weekly boarders won’t be going home. No sweets for us this weekend, everyone's tuck boxes are empty by now and our weekly walks into Beaconsfield are the highlight of our weekends, but not this Saturday. We pay a steep price for our defiant disobedience.

********************************

I am still an inveterate rule breaker. When a rule seems wrong or pointless or I have had no say in its imposition, I cannot make myself adhere to it. Maybe that’s not quite true. I could make myself but I don’t. I do what I want, or what I think is right. The vast majority of the time the rules I break do not cause any harm to anyone. But that’s not the point really is it?

There is a part of me that would like to change, to be more accepting of rules even when I don’t agree with them wholeheartedly or at all. I would like to think that I could be mature and adult enough to be guided by rules created by others, at least sometimes. But deep down I know I won’t. I have always been and will always be defiantly disobedient and blatantly dishonest. The latter in so much as I try to get away with breaking the rules without getting caught - and generally do a pretty good job. But I probably shouldn’t boast about that.

Go to the next story: 8.Letter Writing