Six Very Naughty Girls (13 page)

Mrs
Kent
regarded her impassively for a few moments.
 
She had no doubt that this girl was, for the moment at least, truly repentant and that an object lesson had been provided for the other pupils as to what would happen to persistent rule breakers and recalcitrant schoolgirls.
 
She walked to the side of the desk and dropped the cane down between
Mary
’s outstretched arms, just in front of her head.
 
It clattered and came to a stop, a seemingly insignificant wand of rattan to have caused
Mary
’s distress.
 
Mary
hardly noticed it; she was trying her best to stop crying.

“Stand up,
Mary
!”

Mary
finally released her grip on the desk and stood up slowly, moaning as the movement caused additional pain.

“Pull your skirt down and put your blazer back on.”

Mrs
Kent
had rolled
Mary
’s school skirt up tightly and it took some effort for the girl to manoeuvre it back down, moaning and wriggling as she did so.
 
When her skirt was back down, Miss Garwood stood up and stepped forward to hand her blazer back and
Mary
slipped it back on.

She stood there in full school uniform again, her hands clasping the seat of her school skirt, hopping from foot to foot with tears still rolling down her cheeks.
 
Mary
knew that she must look more like a naughty six year old with a smacked bottom than a sixteen year old girl, old enough to get married, but she couldn’t help it, her bottom hurt so much.

“Back to your seat,
Mary
!”

Mary
took an experimental step forward.
 
A spasm of pain flooded through her but she screwed her hands into fists and walked unsteadily towards the steps.

Navigating the steps was very difficult and she almost stumbled and fell but no one came forward to help her.
 
Finally she was back on the floor of the hall and, ignoring an almost overpowering impulse to hold her poor smarting rear, she continued to hobble back along the aisle, once again having to walk almost the whole length of the hall.

No one said a word and the hall was completely quiet except for an occasional gasp or moan from the caned teenager as she made her slow and painful way back to her seat.
 
Finally, she stopped, standing uncertainly by the vacant place on the bench next to
Jodie
Davies
.

“Sit down,
Mary
!” snapped the headmistress.
 
“We have all wasted too much time over you!”

Mary
didn’t want to upset Mrs
Kent
anymore and hastened to obey.
 
But she sat down too quickly and as soon as she did so she leapt to her feet again with a loud yelp.
 
A few girls giggled but soon
stopped.
 
Mary
couldn’t help herself again and her hands went back behind her skirt as she rubbed her sore bottom.

“Sit down,
Mary
!” snapped the headmistress again, angrily.

This time
Mary
sat down slowly and carefully, gasping as her
wealed
bottom took her weight, but managing to stay in place.
 

The headmistress continued her announcements and concluded the assembly, with
Mary
still wriggling on her intensely sore bottom and dismally looking forward to the long school day.
 

When I was sixteen my family moved and I had to join a new school.
 
It was a mixed school, unlike my old one which had been just girls, and I went into the fifth form.
 
At my new school I soon found out that the cane was used - although rarely - on us girls, and in fact about half the girls in my class had had the cane at one time or another - usually two strokes; one on each hand.
 
Boys were caned more frequently - they were punished by the headmaster, usually six strokes with a minimum of four.

Halfway through my first term I and three other girls were reported by the coach driver for 'rowdiness' coming back from a school trip.
 
The four of us were told to wait outside the senior mistress's office at half past three.
 
During afternoon break I asked the others what they thought would happen.
 
Would we get the cane?
 
And did it hurt as much as I'd heard?

Jill said that she was sure that we would get the cane as two girls from another class had been caned for a similar thing the previous term.
 
Jill had herself been caned several times - the last time only the week before - and it was obvious that she was not looking forward to a repeat experience.
 
She told us that Miss
Wheeler
had warned her that if she was sent to her again that term she would get not just an ordinary two stroke caning, but two strokes on each hand.

Rosie
, a tall girl with long mousy hair, grimaced.
 
"Gosh, Jill," she said, "two strokes hurt quite enough for me last time!
 
I can't imagine what four would be like!"
 
I had not known until then that
Rosie
had also had the cane before.

The other girl, Cathy, had managed to get through her time at school up till then without ever getting the cane, and she must have been as nervous as I was.
 
She asked Jill and
Rosie
if they had any tips as to how to hold the hands so as to reduce the pain.

Jill shook her head, saying that the only thing she could suggest was to try to stand underneath the light so as to reduce the swing of Miss
Wheeler
's arm, but that the senior mistress would probably not let them get away with it.
 
She showed us her palms and I could see the marks left by the cane over a week before.

At half past three the four of us were lined up outside Miss
Wheeler
's office.
 
Jill knocked on the door and we were called in.
 
Miss
Wheeler
lined us up along a wall and went into a long lecture about how we had let the school down.
 
She took a cane out of a cupboard and stood facing us.
 
She reminded Jill that it was only a week since she had last been dealt with and that the point clearly hadn't been made, adding that this time it would be.

She beckoned to Jill to come forward and stand in the centre of the room and then told her to hold her hand out.
 
Jill extended her left arm.
 
 
The position, however, was not to Miss
Wheeler
's liking.
 
She tapped Jill's hand with the cane a few times until the hand was in exactly the right place.
 
Jill stood erect with a straight back and her hand perfectly still, but her lips were twitching slightly.

She didn't budge as the cane was raised above the woman's shoulders.
 
Then it whistled down with frightening speed and force, to be intercepted in its arcing descent by the tender palm of Jill's hand.
 
I watched Jill's face at the moment of impact and saw how she blinked her eyes, jerked back her head and contorted her lips as the pain hit her.
 
I could see that the first stroke had hurt even though she lowered her hand slowly, and apparently unconcernedly, to her side.

Miss
Wheeler
ordered her to present her other hand, and Jill's right hand received the same treatment.
 
This time a sharp intake of breath showed that the pain was getting through to her.
 
She stood still with both hands pressed tight to the sides of her skirt, but then she could no longer resist her instincts and thrust her right hand in front of her face and blew on it furiously.

Jill took her next two strokes, which were delivered with equal force, quite well considering, her hands twitching as they waited for their next painful whacks.
 
I had been so fascinated by the awfulness of her caning that it was with a shock that I realised that it was over and that I might be next.
 
But it was
Rosie
at whom Miss
Wheeler
pointed her cane next and who moved forward to take up the place vacated by Jill, who had now rejoined Cathy and myself against the wall.

Rosie
's whole body shook as she held out her left hand for the first stroke and I could see that she was already on the point of tears.
 
She was taller than Jill but somehow seemed much more vulnerable.
 
Miss
Wheeler
's cane rose and swished down.
 
As she received the blow
Rosie
's face crumpled and she gasped with pain.
 
Her hand jerked away and her body doubled forward.
 
She was allowed a few moments and was then told to hold out her other hand, but it was quite a while before she reluctantly did so.
 
Then it was all over and
Rosie
burst into tears and did a wild dance of pain, waving her hands about.

Cathy was next.
 
Miss
Wheeler
flexed the cane between her hands as she spoke.
 
"This is the first time you've been sent to me for the cane, Catherine.
 
I hope you will make sure it is the last.
 
As neither you nor Sandra have been here before I will use the junior cane."

Then she walked back to the cupboard and exchanged the cane for another one, somewhat shorter and thinner.
 
Cathy took her two strokes better than
 
Rosie
had, but I could see that they had really hurt.

It was my turn.
 
Miss
Wheeler
spoke.
 
"I don't like caning new girls, or any girls, come to that," she said, "but you must realise I have no choice in the matter.
 
As you have only been here for a short time I will only give you one stroke.
 
Hold out your left hand!"

The time had come at last.
 
I held out my hand as steadily as I could and tried to tense myself.
 
I had intended to keep my eyes shut but instead I gazed as if hypnotised at the cane.
 
At the last moment I dragged my eyes away and as it flashed down I was looking straight into Miss
Wheeler
's eyes.

The cane landed across the centre of my palm, just below the line of the base of my fingers.
 
It felt as though my fingers had been cut off.
 
My hand became the centre of the universe for me and when I could take notice of my surroundings again Miss
Wheeler
had put the cane down and was once more addressing us.
 
I don't suppose that any of us was in a position to fully concentrate on her words but I recall her saying to Jill, "Remember it's the headmaster for you next time!"
 
Then she gave each of us a sealed note for our parents and told us to go.

Jill led the way to the washrooms and advised us to run the cold tap and put our hands under the water.
 
It did take away the worst of the sting.
 
As we stood there bathing our hands Jill told me that the cane Miss
Wheeler
had used on her and
Rosie
was nicknamed 'Biter', while Cathy and I had felt 'Stinger'.