What became of our schoolgirl dreams? Friends keep promise and meet again at 40 to compare how their lives turned out

The cellar was so firmly out of bounds none of us had dared venture there before. But one night, a group of us teenage girls crept from our boarding school dorms and sneaked down there for a midnight feast.
Huddled in the pitch black, our whispered conversation soon turned to lofty plans for the future. Victoria Caine was going to become a famous actress; Vicky Walshe would marry a rich man; Vanessa Maddox dreamed of working in television; Louise Reynell would travel the globe; Lara Trew, the Irish beauty, wanted to be her own boss.
That left me, the geeky clown who came bottom of every class save English, who wanted to be an award-winning novelist.

Forever friends: From left to right, Victoria C, Vanessa, Lara, Shona, Victoria, Louise

That’s when the idea first came to us: a reunion. At some point in the distant future, we would drop what we were doing and meet up - for one night only.
‘Why don’t we wait until we’re really old,’ said Lara. ‘Like 40!’
‘Just don’t expect me to push your Zimmer frame,’ Louise replied, to shrieks of laughter.
Of course, back then, reaching 40 seemed impossibly far away. We thought we had plenty of time to fulfil our dreams in the interim.

 

Neither did we have any inkling of the myriad feelings the prospect of a school reunion would trigger when it actually came about - the childish excitement inevitably clouded by trepidation and self-consciousness.
Fast forward 25 years and it was Lara - always the most organised - who sent the first email, reminding us that This Was The Year. We had all kept in touch, followed each other’s lives. We’d met up for weddings, birthdays, the arrival of a new baby - but never with all seven of us present. Now the moment we’d talked of in the school cellar was finally going to become a reality.
My overwhelming feeling was of curiosity, but there was concern as well. After all, the gulf between childhood dreams and the harsh realities of adulthood can often seem unbearably wide. How would we all have changed in the intervening years?

I knew how I had changed. That young girl who’d dreamed of being an award-winning novelist had become a frumpy mother-of-four with bags under her eyes. Wouldn’t they all be shocked at how I’d let myself go? Wouldn’t I seethe with envy if their childhood wishes had come true?

School reunion: Shona and her school friends made a pact to meet up again when they were really old.... 40

And yet I couldn’t miss it. Lara had reminded us it was a three-line whip: everyone had to be there. Besides, I wanted to get all the gossip.
And so, after much negotiation, we decided to hold our get-together on Osea — an island just off the Essex coast, which you can only get on and off at low tide. It was the closest we could get to recreating that boarding school feeling of being entirely at each other’s mercy, with no way out. We would literally be stranded in each other’s company.
On the big day, we drove across the causeway to Osea in our separate cars, the mothers among us immediately identifiable by empty baby-seats in the back.
As we trooped into the Nantucket-style cottages (all picket fences and clapboard), I noticed that we were all clutching bottles of wine - a sure sign that we were hoping alcohol would work its ice-breaking magic.
In the first few moments, the awkwardness was palpable. Discreetly, our eyes flicked over each other, measuring each other up for clues that would signal our status.
Certainly, some of us had survived the ageing process more successfully than others.

Jumping for joy: The women were delighted to find that beneath the laughter lines was a bond that had not been broken

Victoria Walshe, the girl who’d wanted to marry riches, was sporting a blonde bob and killer heels, and looked like she’d stepped from the set of Sex And The City. Well, I told myself (a tad bitterly), she clearly has plenty of time to carefully select her designer outfit from a beautifully organised wardrobe rather than rooting through a pile of crumpled laundry like me.
Lara, the Irish beauty, still looked amazing, despite being a mother to two little girls. But it was soon evident that she was used to having things her own way.
‘I’ll take the room with the four-poster bed and the en-suite,’ she announced, immediately claiming ownership of the best room by plonking her bag on the bed.
Louise - our resident Essex girl - enveloped everyone in hugs. Tanned, voluptuous and French-manicured to within an inch of her life, she admitted she had a suitcase of dresses ‘just in case’. I couldn’t help wondering if she had the cast of The Only Way Is Essex hiding in her boot.
Soon, we were all marvelling at how, subconsciously, we seemed to slot straight back into the dynamics of 1986. The old ringleaders of our girl gang - Victoria W and Louise - had immediately thrown off their shoes, uncorked the wine and coaxed the rest of us to follow suit - despite the fact it was only 10am. 

The way we were: Shona is behind the teachers and nuns (third from left) while Lara is one row behind Shona, second from left

It reminded me of a school ski trip where, with similarly persuasive tactics, they had convinced the rest of us to climb out of a hotel window and shimmy down a drainpipe to a disco we’d been strictly forbidden from attending. I’d been caught, one leg over the sill, while they’d all disappeared off into the snow. I’d lost my Head Girl badge as a result — and still bear the grudge. 
I have to admit, it was slightly overwhelming to have all of us in one place again. Old habits die hard: soon we were butting in and making fun of each other — just like the teenagers we’d once been.
The schoolgirl characters and mannerisms were still in evidence, but it was a huge shock to see how we’d all ripened into middle-aged women and to discover the ordeals we’d endured along the way. Between us, there has been cancer, fertility problems, money issues and our fair share of broken hearts and dreams.
I was secretly hoping for someone to admit to Botox - or better still, an extra-marital affair. But the closest we got was an email from a friend in Australia, expressing regret for not being able to attend and telling us she’d just celebrated her 40th by getting a boob job.

Girls reunited: Louise, middle row and third from the left. Victoria smiles from the middle of the back row

So what of our childhood fantasies?
Victoria Caine had dreamed of film stardom and convinced us all at school that her destiny was to marry a decorated Army officer with a plummy accent and a penchant for polo. Well, she couldn’t claim fame but she had got her man in uniform - albeit a rather more down-to-earth ex-Naval Mancunian with a collection of tattoos.
Still, they’re incredibly happy and, to cheers and hugs, she announced a little surprise: she was 17 weeks pregnant. That explained why she’d steered clear of the wine. (Thank God. I thought she might have been teetotal.)
Lara had wanted to run her own business and, sure enough, she’s now the managing director of her own PR company. I couldn’t help smiling. She’d always been the diva of the group, and clearly it’s this single-mindedness that has got her to where she is today - earning more than all of us put together.
Others had not been so fortunate. Victoria W - always our mother hen at school, dolling out paracetamol for period pain and Clearasil for spots - had been diagnosed with cervical cancer a few years back and, even more agonisingly, a hysterectomy had ended her chances of motherhood. Seeing her still clucking over us all, I just couldn’t comprehend the disappointment she must feel. But, later, with enviable strength and humility, she admitted to being immensely grateful just to be alive.
She joked that she’s still working on the wealthy man dream.
That left Louise and Vanessa. Louise, the would-be globe-trotter, now works for a commodities broker, is married to a tree surgeon and has two little boys. But most of the travel she does is on the Central Line into London from Essex.
Vanessa, just as she hoped, is working in television production, and has recently taken a break to have her first child.

Together again: Victoria C (second from left in the middle row) grins at the camera with a pensive Vanessa to her right

It wasn’t until evening that we touched on my own achievements. By then, we’d eaten our meal and polished off copious bottles of Sauvignon Blanc. We were more at ease with each other and our observations became more brutal.
‘Well, we all thought you’d be the one to end up leading the most exciting life,’ Louise confessed. ‘You were our wild card - the girl we predicted would do something really extraordinary.’ 
The implication was that I had done exactly the opposite; that my life was tame, unexciting, utterly ordinary. An awkward silence fell over the room.
I decided not to tell them all how, stuck in my mundane Surrey housewife existence, the highlight of my week is a Sunday morning car boot sale. I’m not sure they could have coped with the disappointment. I’m not sure I can either.
And that’s the trouble with school reunions. It can be an uncomfortable experience suddenly being surrounded by the only people in the world who remember your wildly unrealistic ambitions for the future, made before weary cynicism set in.
They’re the only ones who can really judge whether you’ve fulfilled your potential. And if the verdict feels like a ‘no’, it’s a difficult pill to swallow.
Indeed one friend - who asked not to be named in this piece - couldn’t cope with it at all. For whatever reason (and I doubt we’ll ever know now), she decided to leave the island at the next low tide, and by breakfast on Sunday had gone.
Such a shame. She’s just married a man 15 years her junior, and I’d been looking forward to hearing all the juicy details.
A few hours later, the rest of us went our separate ways too. Our reunion had passed so quickly - and perhaps  it was unrealistic to think we could cover everything that had happened in all our lives in just one 24-hour period. But it did give a real insight into the women we’d become. Myself especially.
As we said our goodbyes, I felt a little sad at how many years have passed and how far we have all travelled since those days when we believed the camaraderie would last for ever.
Taking a trip down memory lane isn’t for the fainthearted. But I drove away feeling reassured that under the wrinkles and the laughter lines is a bond that still hasn’t been broken.
I’m hoping that we’ll do it all over again when we’re 50. And I’m already predicting who’ll have had a facelift...

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