She skipped pudding in her eagerness to keep her appointment, and after a quick visit to the toilets to wash and brush up, she was standing outside the oak door to the Headmistress' study straightening her blazer and making sure her skirt was neatly in place. She knocked boldly and a sing-song voice called out "Come in!"
Helen had only once had to visit this room in fear, when she was in the fourth year and the old Head, Mrs Dunstan, had spanked her with a plimsoll for being rude. She'd learned her lesson well. Her only other visit had been two months before to be congratulated on her appointment.
"Come in, come in, Helen," said Miss Markham warmly. "You're rather early! I hope you didn't do anything so foolish as to skip pudding?"
Helen's blush belied her hurried, "Oh, no, Miss." Verily let it pass. She was used to young females experiencing confusion in her presence.
"Helen, I want to say how pleased I am that you were chosen as Head girl for this year. Miss Bainbridge speaks highly of you and your record is exemplary."
Helen's blush deepened. "Thank you, Miss."
"You heard this morning about the new disciplinary system I have introduced?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Well, I have a role for you to play, Helen, which I shall outline in a moment. However, I must first explain very clearly where we stand." The Headmistress' serious tone and probing gaze made Helen gulp involuntarily. "As Head Girl, you occupy a position of great responsibility and I expect you to live up to that. You, of all the girls, must endeavour to set the best example. I know it's not easy, and I'm sure you'll make mistakes - how else do we learn? But I must also warn you that you are not exempt from punishment yourself should you do anything to deserve it. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Miss," said a beetroot-red Helen.
"And the situation most likely to incur my wrath, Helen, is if I discover that any girl has been reported for punishment unfairly. You have the authority that comes with your position but you must always be absolutely sure that you are being fair. And the same goes for all the prefects. Do not misuse your power. Is that understood?" The gaze was now so penetrating that Helen had to look down.
"Yes, Miss."
"Very well." Verily smiled. "You can relax now, dear." Helen smiled awkwardly in return and shifted her shoulders. "And so, to your role. It will mean missing some of your prep time, but after a week or two we will get other prefects to take turns as well. Miss Bainbridge and I will be using the first half hour or so of prep to deal with any girls referred for punishment during the day. Miss Bainbridge will use the changing room and I will be here. You will report here when the bell goes for prep and collect the two lists of names. We will indicate their form rooms so that you can find them easily. You will gather first those who are to see Miss Bainbridge and escort them to the changing room. Then you will collect any girls due to visit me and escort them here. Are you with me so far?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Once you've gathered them here, you will instruct the girls to be seated on the bench outside, and you will send them in one at a time, using the order on the list. You will not show them the list, or reveal the order. After each punishment you will wait until you hear me call out, 'Next!' before sending them in. There may be a short wait. Meanwhile, you will stay just outside the door and watch them, ensuring silence. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Good girl. Finally, if any pupil talks whilst waiting or makes trouble in any way, you will report this to me when it is their turn to come in. You may warn them about this beforehand. Now then, why don't you run through everything I've outlined so we can see if you've got it all?"
Helen took a deep breath and started from the beginning. Heading for good grades in her History, English and Geography A-levels, she recapped perfectly. Verily gave her a heart-warming smile and sent her on her way.
---oOo---
With half an hour before prep was due to begin, Verily turned to the punishment book she'd inherited from her predecessors. It had a brown leather cover with the Cropton Hall crest embossed on the cover. She'd been informed that Mrs Weekes had refrained from corporal punishment except in very few cases and this was indeed what she found. For the academic years 1951-2 and 52-3 she saw recorded eight and twelve spankings respectively, all with the plimsoll. Interestingly, the harshest punishment meted out was to Julia Bennett - twelve whacks - for being out of bounds with a boy, October 1952. She noticed the names of Thomas and French from last term - "Six ... salt in Miss W's tea".
Going further back she found that Mrs Dunstan had been a lot busier. For her last term, Summer 1951, six pages were filled - some 150 incidents of punishment. On investigation, this appeared to be a fairly normal termly average. Verily scanned the lists of names, going back through the summer, spring and autumn terms. Conveniently, the pupil's form was specified so she was able to focus on fourth formers alone - those students now in the Upper Sixth. Bennett, J. came up again and again - May 16th, strapped (4) for talking; April 29th, caned (4) for defiance; March 17th, caned (6) for fighting; February 26th, hairbrush (8) for talking after lights out (third time). Verily counted a further eight occasions going back to the start of that year. Miss Bennett had certainly made a nuisance of herself. Another frequent recipient was Barton, S. - Verily counted nine punishments for Miss Barton, five of them in tandem with Bennett and for the same offence. She also spotted Patterson, H. Plimsoll (6), defiance, and smiled, pretty sure that was the only entry she'd find for Helen Patterson.
She was about to start a more methodical accounting of all the fourth-formers when she heard the bell sounding for prep. She closed the book, placed it on a shelf on the bookcase to her left, and put on her black gown.
---oOo---
A few minutes later, Helen carefully closed the door to the Headmistress' study behind her and unfolded the sheet of paper she'd been entrusted with. She was eager to see the names on the list. She knew Bennett's would be there because she'd been in the History lesson when the cheating had been exposed. She was glad - she disliked Bennett whom she thought selfish and arrogant.
At the top of the page was Miss Bainbridge's list, with four names: Middleton, Trent, Stewart and Wilson, C. She knew Middleton and Trent, both now in 5B. Stewart and Wilson were new fourth-formers but she reckoned Wilson must be the younger sister of Emma Wilson, a Lower Sixth girl friendly with those other troublemakers Thomas and French.
Miss Markham's list also comprised four names: Bennett, Linton, Pringle and Simpson. She knew Bennett, Linton and Pringle, but Simpson was another fourth-former. She shook her head in puzzlement at how new girls could have managed to get themselves into trouble like this on their first day. Still, 'ours not to reason why' she thought to herself as she set off towards 5B to collect the first of her charges.
Helen got quite a thrill from the shocked looks that greeted her announcement as she stood in the doorway of 5B.
"Middleton, Trent ... Miss Bainbridge wants to see you in the changing-room. You're to come with me." Grace Middleton was a tall, pretty girl, well-developed for her age. She'd been captain of the second XI hockey team last year. Helen herself had been the goalie and not a very good one, and the times Grace had shouted at her for her mistakes still rankled. And Grace would most likely make the first XI this year, while Helen definitely wouldn't as Shirley Barton, last year's goalie, was still at the school. Helen's vengeful and envious feelings found some satiation observing Grace's blushing face and frightened expression. Helen also enjoyed the way Grace unconsciously smoothed down the seat of her skirt as she made her way across the classroom. Trent followed, equally red-faced. She was shorter, with straight blond hair and a permanently wide-eyed, slightly frightened look on her face, which was exaggerated almost comically at this moment, though no one was laughing.
Having collected Charlotte Wilson and Elizabeth Stewart from 4A, by the staffroom, Helen led the four girls down the corridor to the changing-room.
"Thank you, Patterson," said Miss Bainbridge, looking
very severe. "Sit over there, you four." She indicated a point near the door on the bench that ran the length of three sides of the room, under the lockers where gym and sports clothes were kept.
Helen felt a little annoyed she'd miss seeing, or at least hearing, Middleton taken down a peg or two. She gave her a quick glance before she turned to leave, but Grace wasn't looking her way.
---oOo---
Charlotte Wilson's heart was thumping and her hands felt clammy. She wished fervently now that she was anywhere but this changing-room that smelt of washed clothes and floor polish. She also wished she hadn't passed that note to Stewart in Miss Stokes' English lesson. So stupid! And embarrassing! Writing "Can't wait for lunch" just seemed such a pathetic reason to get into trouble. And she'd got Stewart into trouble too when all she'd done was rather reluctantly receive the silly note. She knew she was about to be beaten, though in a tiny corner of her mind a distant voice was still trying to suggest that they had been summoned to this room for a severe ticking-off. She'd been slippered a few times at her prep school but she suspected what was coming would hurt a lot more.
She and Stewart had made friends quickly. They'd met the day before, unpacking in the dorm. They were in the same form too - Mrs Palmer's - and chose desks next to each other. It was good to have a pal so soon and made being a new girl less daunting. Charlotte had her older sister Emma, but Emma had ignored her from the moment they'd arrived and had made it clear she wasn't going to be holding Charlotte's hand through these first days, or any days. But now Charlotte was worried she might lose Stewart's friendship: she'd been really upset after Miss Stokes said they'd both be reported and had walked away in tears, even though Charlotte had tried her best to explain to the teacher that it had been her and her alone to blame. They hadn't spoken since. She knew, too, that Stewart had never been spanked and was really frightened.
The two new girls had been exhilarated by the fun of their first night. Charlotte had heard her sister Emma talking about French and Thomas many times, the things they got up to, so it was really super to find herself in the same dorm. And they, and Jennings, had seemed so funny and clever, and then so brave when they'd had to go off to Miss Dawson's room to be beaten. Charlotte had lain awake, her mind buzzing with all the sights and faces and possibilities of this new life.
In the morning, Charlotte and Liz had both caught glimpses of the red marks and bruises on Jennings' bottom as she got dressed and now Charlotte was wondering if hers was going to end up as bad as that.
Miss Bainbridge opened a cupboard in the corner opposite the door and took out a hairbrush and a cane. These she placed on top of the chest of drawers in the middle of the open area near the door. Rolling up the right sleeve of her light green blouse, she said,
"Right, girls, you have been sent to me for punishment and I expect you to conduct yourselves with dignity. You will not plead because it won't do anything but make you look foolish. You will stay in position till I tell you to stand up, and you will do your best not to make too much fuss. It will hurt because that's the point - it's a punishment - but it will soon be over and then you may go back to your form rooms for prep, safe in the knowledge that this unfortunate episode is over. Do I make myself understood?" She surveyed the four forlorn-looking girls who nodded miserably.
"Very well. Stand up and face the wall." As the girls stood and turned, she picked up the cane. "Trent, come over here." Trent turned and approached the Deputy Head who had moved over to stand by the bench on the far side. Charlotte's tummy was in turmoil and her legs felt liquid as she stood examining the grey surface of the metal locker nine inches from her frightened face. She felt Stewart trembling on her left, her breathing rapid and shallow. The older girl on her right stood quite still, looking down at her hands.
"Trent, you not only arrived late for your first French lesson of the term but you then lied to Countess Potocki and tried to blame another girl for your lateness. Do you have anything to say?"
They heard the faintest high-pitched, "No Miss," before Miss Bainbridge continued...
"Very well. Lower your undergarment and bend over." After a few seconds, a sudden swishing was followed instantly by the sound of the thin stick striking bare skin. A piercing "Ooooow!" filled the room and Charlotte started to turn round in alarm before she felt the older girl hold her arm to check her. They heard Trent whimpering. A second swish-thwapp followed, greeted by another anguished cry. Charlotte felt herself flushing all over as fear swept through her body. The older girl took her right hand and squeezed. She turned slightly to look up at her. Their eyes met in a moment of shared dread though the older girl managed a half-smile that made Charlotte feel reassured. We will survive, she thought. She reached out for Stewart's hand on her left, found it, grasped it sweatily and squeezed. Stewart let her do it, which was a good sign.
The third stroke landed and Trent cried out again with a more prolonged "Aaargghh" that dissolved into sobs. Charlotte prayed that would be it. Then she heard Miss Bainbridge's voice:
"You may get up, Trent. Your punishment is over. Dress yourself and go and face the wall." They heard Trent's whimpering and sobs and her uneven steps as she came back to join them. Charlotte turned to look. Trent's shoulders were shaking, her head bowed. Tears dropped from her chin onto the bench. Her arms went back behind her, holding her bottom.
"Middleton, over here." Charlotte felt a quick final squeeze from her neighbour's hand before it slipped out and away. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for this kind girl who'd tried to make her feel less terrified. At least she knew her name now.
"Repeatedly talking out of turn in class, and then being rude when you were told off. I expect you thought Miss Stokes was a soft touch, didn't you?" they heard Miss Bainbridge ask indignantly.
"No, Miss. I ... I..."
"You what, exactly?"
"Nothing, Miss. I'm sorry, Miss."
Charlotte heard an impatient 'Tssh' dismissive of Middleton's remorse, then
"Undergarment down and bend over."
Charlotte winced as each stroke of the cane whistled and struck. Middleton managed to absorb the first two without crying out but the third produced a surprised 'Oh' and the fourth an anguished yelp of pain. She heard her new friend whispering 'Ow...ow' as she reappeared on her right, her head bowed, a single tear poised on her left cheek, hands on the back of her skirt.
Charlotte held her breath. Was it now?
"Stewart next, please," came the Deputy Head's stern voice. Charlotte, heart pounding furiously, felt both relief and frustration. She wanted to get it over with but she was scared of having to face it. She felt Middleton's hand at her side again and glanced up to see the older girl giving her a teary-eyed look of encouragement - she understood the awful anticipation Charlotte was suffering.
"Miss Stokes reports that you were not paying attention in class and that you received a note from Wilson. Is that correct?"
Charlotte heard the tiniest, 'Yes, Miss' from Stewart.
"Very well. Bend over."
So loud and so sudden was the crack of the back of the hairbrush on poor Stewart's bottom it made all three of them jump. It echoed down the aisles of the changing-room, bouncing off the metal lockers. And the screech of shocked agony that followed immediately after sent a chill down Charlotte's spine.
"Take your hands away this instant, Stewart," they heard.
Now Charlotte's legs were shaking and she thought she might wet herself. Middleton reached for her hand again and squeezed it. Charlotte tried to control her breathing. Her heart was racing so hard she felt like panic might overtake her. This was awful.
Another SMACK resounded through the room and another cry of tortured woe from the unfortunate Stewart. Oh God, thought Charlotte, this is what I'm about to get. She also had the thought that Stewart would never forgive her.
"Get up, Stewart," they heard. "Go and stand back in your place."
Charlotte heard quick footsteps and the whimpering of her erstwhile friend, a
nd all her courage was called on now not to simply collapse to the floor or try to run away.
"And finally, Wilson - come over here, girl!"
Charlotte turned, wiping the sweat from her hands on the sides of her skirt, and walked carefully, as if placing one foot in front of the other was a new experience, towards Miss Bainbridge. The imposing figure of authority stood by the bench on the far side of the room tapping the back of the large hairbrush gently against the palm of her left hand. When Charlotte stood before her, Miss Bainbridge peered down at her sternly and said,
"And you were the passer of the note, I believe?"
"Y-(cough) Yes, Miss." Her mouth had never in her life felt so dry.
"I don't expect Stewart is very happy with you at this moment, is she?" asked Miss Bainbridge, rubbing it in. Charlotte looked down.
"No, Miss."
"Well, as the instigator of this misdemeanour, I think you'd better lower your undergarment, don't you? And bend over here." She indicated the bench against the wall. Charlotte stepped forward and reached up under her skirt with shaking hands for her knickers. She pulled them over the rounds of her bottom, down as far as her knees, and looked up to Miss Bainbridge for approval. She tried to put as much contrition and little-girl-sorrow into her expression as she could but the teacher just nodded and pointed with the brush to the bench.
Charlotte felt like a condemned prisoner stepping up to the block as she bent forward and placed her hands on the bench. Much of her body felt numb, so frightened had she been for so long, but she felt the cool of the air on her bottom and the frantic beating of her heart. She gazed at the pattern in the grain of the wood of the bench as she waited for the axe to fall.
The Girls of Cropton Hall Page 10
