Unlike Peter, I’d had many friends at school, and kept them consistent over the years. I hoped that I was someone they would rely on and look up to. I certainly had them in the darkest time of my separation.
I met Brenda and Betty (actually, full name Bethany) in 3rd Form (that’s mostly called Year Seven now, I think) as we all commenced into the Secondary and Grammar Girl’s School.
Betty was a year older than Brenda and I, but she stood there all the same, her black shoes polished and shining in the line of new-comers. We would recite our names to one of the older girls supervising us, and then be assigned a dorm with a handful of the other new girls.
Luckily, the three of us were assigned to the same dorm (along with three other girls who are now just spots in my memory) and we soon became as thick as thieves.
I met various other girls (and boys, when I entered Sixth Form, but I tended to stay clear of their tricks) along the course of my education: Tracy-Ann, who won the medal for Most Athletic, twice; Dianna, the foreign runt of the swimming squadron, but always consistently one of the best; Taylor, a historian who could memorise dates in a flash, just to name of few of my old friends. I still had contact with them, but our connections were less bonded as they had been years back.
But Brenda and Betty were always my two favourite. We were sometimes known, playfully, as ‘The three Bs: Brenda, Betty and Bella- All-action girl-pals!’
But we lost Bethany Simmons at the tender age of twenty-three to cancer, and Brenda Forbes moved out to the city to study music technology. There she met her husband, and settled permanently. I was Matron of Honour at her wedding to repay her for being it at mine.
Currently, she was expected her third child, due any day then, and would not be able to come and ‘comfort’ me, having her hands full with a newborn.
And so, I was all alone.