The Girls of Cropton Hall

by Stanlegh Meresith

  Mrs Palmer continued her clockwise journey and delivered the fifth from Susan's left. THWACK! Susan winced and gasped, but she was determined not to cry out, with all those fourth-formers, as she thought, just lapping it up outside the door. The mistress moved round past Susan's head to complete her fifth half-circuit. Would this be the last, Susan wondered? She dearly hoped so. She braced herself ... THWACK!

  Being an inch and a half wide, the strap was now falling over areas previously attended to and the sting was really intense. Susan breathed in and out quickly to try and conquer the hot pain, but couldn't stop her feet from drumming the surface of the bench. She prayed that was it.

  Mrs Palmer, however, was impervious to all attempts to have the Deity intercede on behalf of this wayward young woman, and moved inexorably on, round Susan's feet, to take up position on her right yet again. Susan buried her face in her forearms and scrunched it up in readiness. The strap fulfilled its noisy, searing promise and dealt another swathe of burning stings to her left buttock. Inwardly, Susan voiced a heartrending "Oooooww!" but felt a surging pride that she'd managed to keep it to herself.

  'Seven' thought Susan, wiping away tears on the sleeve of her blazer. The trouble with seven is ... who ever stops at seven? Seven means eight, she knew and, sure enough, she saw Mrs Palmer circling past her head once more. Susan shifted her bottom from side to side to try to ease the throbbing, and clenched again.

  A little frightened now that she might not be able to bear any more, she turned her head to the left so she could see this one coming. Mrs Palmer stood there, about two feet away, the strap dangling behind her raised right arm. As soon as she saw the arm pulling back, Susan turned quickly to bury her head in her sleeve again and THWACK! the strap cracked again into her right cheek. She groaned and cried into her blazer as her bottom gyrated on the narrow bench. No more, pleeeaase! she silently begged. I can't take any more! She was crying quietly. Some snot dribbled onto her upper lip and she didn't want to wipe it on the clean green sleeve of her blazer.

  "Right, you can get up now, French! Misdeeds paid for in full!" called the mistress, already half way to the blackboard where she replaced the strap on its hook. Susan lifted herself up on her forearms, thrusting her very red bottom into the air. As she got up into a kneeling position and her blazer and skirt unrolled, she reached into her pocket for her hanky. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, replaced the hanky and then lowered a foot to the floor. OUCH! Her bum was a throbbing balloon! It felt twice its normal size, and, pulling her knickers up, she wondered if it wouldn't stretch the elastic to breaking point. But she felt very pleased with herself. One, she had survived! Two, she hadn't cried out or begged. Three, she'd taken EIGHT strokes, and that would be round the school in no time. She wasn't averse to a bit of hero worship; it was at least some consolation for the agony in her arse! The worst of which, she also knew, would wear off in an hour or so. All in all she was feeling pretty...

  Oh my God! She'd completely forgotten! Tonight in prep. Late twice for assembly. A caning, almost certainly. Peters got four strokes. Oh no!

  Misery swept through her, ruining all her feelings of glory and pride.

  Mrs Palmer stood before her again.

  "Well, French?"

  Susan had to summon her deepest strength not to cry right now.

  "Thank you, Miss," she said, thinking of Rachel. "And I'm very sorry for bashing into you." Mrs Palmer looked kindly down at her.

  "Well, let's say no more about it. But do please be careful in future. No leaping indoors!"

  "No, Miss."

  "Very well, then. You'd better run along. Do you have a lesson now? The bell went two minutes ago." Susan had not even heard it. "Do you need a note?"

  "No thank you, Miss. I've got a study period now."

  "Fine," said Mrs Palmer, opening the door. "Come along, girls," she called into the corridor, "time for Chemistry, your favourite subject!" This was greeted with some jocular groans as the girls made a path for Susan to get by, and, to her surprise, not one of them looked at her as she did so.

  Rachel was hovering a few yards away, out of Mrs Palmer's eyeline. Susan hobbled over and fell forwards into her arms, resting her forehead, and weeping, on her shoulder. Rachel took a quick look up and down the empty corridor and stroked Susie's now irredeemably tousled hair.

  "Come with me," she whispered in Susan's ear. "Bennett said we could use some of her cold cream. Come." And she led her sobbing friend towards the stairs.

  As they ascended to the dormitories, Rachel thought ruefully that Mr Grimethorpe at the chemists in Cropton village would be needing to order extra supplies of Pond's Cold Cream.

  ---oOo---

  Cropton Hall

  Friday September 10th 1953

  Dear Mother,

  I hope you and father are well, and Michael and Rose. I am afraid I must give you bad news.

  I am so ashamed. I have been caned. I disobeyed the Headmistress rather badly and she was very angry. She gave me six stripes on my bare bottom. It really made me scream. I never knew a spanking could hurt so much, though I suppose it was more than a spanking. I am still sore even though it was four days ago.

  I am too ashamed to tell you the details now, but what I am even more worried about is that I may get unmade as Head Girl, and even de-prefected. This would be so humiliating, I think I would have to leave the school, if you let me.

  Please do not tell father any of this. I am too ashamed and I don't want him to be so disappointed in me. Please, mother. I will write again soon. Please forgive me for letting you down. I must go and do my prep now. I am so terrified of ever getting the cane again.

  Your loving daughter

  Helen.

  12. Pupils: A Head and Two Tails

  "Bennett!" Julia looked up anxiously at the sound of her form mistress, Miss Bainbridge's, voice. It was just after lunch on Friday and she was in her form room still catching up on that dratted History summer homework. "The Headmistress wishes to see you in her study." Shirley, and a couple of the other Upper Sixth A girls hanging round, looked at her sympathetically. Julia blushed and felt tears on the horizon. It had to be about what happened with Gibbo - there wasn't anything else it could be, was there? These days you just never knew. She'd heard about French getting eight with the strap just for bumping into Mrs P. The place was going crazy. And her own bottom, as she was reminded every time she sat down, or ran or fell during hockey, was still very sore from the strapping by Gibbo the day before that had itself aggravated the stripes the Head had given her on Monday.

  She sighed as she got up and went over to the door and followed the Deputy Head out into the corridor.

  "Come with me," said her form mistress, adding, "and don't worry: you're not in trouble." Julia felt a surge of relief, but then annoyed that Miss Bainbridge hadn't made this clear to her classmates - if only because Shirley would probably be feeling distressed on her behalf for the next however long.

  "Ah, Julia, come in," said the Headmistress, rising from behind her desk. "Edith, thank you."

  Julia? That was unexpected. She couldn't remember the last time a teacher had called her Julia.

  Miss Bainbridge closed the door after her. She and Verily had agreed it would be less intimidating if Verily tackled this tricky conversation alone.

  "Thank you for coming along, Julia. I know you're very busy catching up with your History!" How did she know that? "And I have also heard about the events before lunch yesterday." Julia started to speak, but the Headmistress held up her hand. "I know you're anxious to put your side of the matter, but there is something else I would like to discuss with you first, if I may? Let's go and sit over there, shall we?" She gestured towards the sofas at the far end of the room and led the way. Julia followed, somewhat shocked. Had someone died? Her granddad? He hadn't been well for a while. But Miss Markham didn't look as if she had bad news like that.

  "I think you'll find these cushions are quite a bit more comfortable!" said t
he Headmistress with a kind smile that Julia responded to with one of her own.

  "Thank you, Miss," she said, lowering herself gently into the soft sofa. "I am still quite sore."

  "I can imagine," said the Head sympathetically. "Julia, I have a proposal to put to you. I would be grateful if you would hear me out before interrupting." Like I would! thought Julia.

  "Yes, Miss," was what she said.

  "Julia, although I do not know all the Upper Sixth girls personally yet, I have been able to familiarise myself with everyone's termly reports during their time here, and I have consulted the more experienced staff, as well as making a study of the Punishment book bequeathed to me by Mrs Dunstan..." Gosh! She's read all my reports? And the Old Boot's whacking book!? That can't be good, thought Julia. "... in which you play quite a starring role, young lady!" She gave Julia another of those utterly disarming smiles.

  "Yes, Miss," said Julia, blushing.

  Miss Markham leaned forward earnestly. "Julia, it's all right. I'm not criticising. In fact, I think this is probably the right moment to let you into a secret." This was getting more intriguing by the minute.

  "Miss?"

  "You must absolutely promise me that this will not reach the ears of any other pupil, not even Shirley Barton ... whatever the outcome of today's discussion. I'm telling you this as one adult to another. Can I trust you?"

  Julia was stunned. This conversation felt unreal, on a different level than she had ever experienced with any teacher, even any adult, in her entire life. But she liked this woman, and she felt she could promise her secrecy, confident she'd stick by that promise. She met Verily's steady, penetrating gaze and said,

  "Yes, you can. I do promise." She deliberately left out the 'Miss'. Verily smiled and nodded.

  "Good. Thank you. When I was a pupil here back in the twenties, I was caned and whacked twenty-seven times when I was in the fourth form. You, Bennett, I believe, had that experience twelve times? I was punished equally frequently in each of my subsequent years. In my Upper Sixth year, I was even given eight strokes with a very bendy Moluccan cane that our Headmistress used for the worst offenders." She paused, watching Julia's reaction, which was, unsurprisingly, open-mouthed wonder.

  "Gosh!"

  "Yes, I was as much of a rebel as you are, Julia, and through it I learnt the value of friendship and loyalty and fairness, but also, ultimately, of rules. If we had no rules, Julia, there would be nothing to rebel against, would there?" It was a direct question and Julia gulped before trying to frame an answer.

  "Erm, I suppose not, Miss."

  "Now, I tell you this about myself not to boast or impress you - as you can see, I am now the representative of the very authority girls like you, like I was, want to rebel against." Julia gulped again. She felt the ground shifting beneath her feet. She did not want to rebel against this woman! She wanted to climb onto her lap and be comforted; she wanted her approval. "I tell you," Miss Markham continued, "because it is my belief that you are the most mature girl in the school. You have a strong sense of loyalty, and you are brave. You haven't yet learned the value of rules, it is true, but nor had I at your age, and I believe you can." Julia was blushing furiously at these compliments. "And that is why, Julia, I am proposing to make you Head Girl of Cropton Hall." Verily sat back to let this bombshell explode, gently she hoped, in Julia's mind.

  Julia could hardly breathe for a moment. She knew this wasn't a joke, and she also knew she was confronted with a life-changing decision, a decision that would transform her very idea of herself, who she thought she was. Finally she was able to heave a huge breath into her chest and she looked up at the ceiling. She was overwhelmed: she wanted to laugh but also to cry; she felt joy but also sadness.

  "Oh gosh!" she said. Her face burned, and the struggle of emotions showed in her teary eyes. "Erm, thank you, Miss. I ... I don't know what to say. I'm not sure..."

  "It's all right, Julia. I understand this is very unexpected for you, especially when I caned you rather hard only four days ago. Please go away and think about it over the weekend. You're intelligent enough to work out the implications of accepting this role. If you want to come and talk to me at any time, or to Miss Bainbridge, you will have our immediate attention. Meanwhile, I suggest we meet again on Monday - you have a study period at ten o'clock - let's say ten fifteen in here?"

  Julia felt lifted up - the Headmistress was arranging a proper meeting with her!

  "Yes, Miss," she said. "Ten fifteen on Monday."

  "Good. Now then, let us discuss the incident involving Gabrielle Pearson and Miss Gibson, shall we?"

  Julia suddenly felt very small again, and immediately thought that she could never be Head Girl.

  "Yes, Miss."

  "Tell me what happened."

  As Julia began to relate the events at the end of the History lesson, she tried to be as fair as she could. She didn't want to let her hatred of Gibbo show, and she was doing well until she reached the part where Miss Gibson had reached for the strap, clearly intending to keep Gabby back for another whacking. At this point, her indignation grew so strong that it all came pouring out: how Gibbo clearly enjoyed beating girls; her constant references to punishments and her ways of humiliating you; and how much harder she whacked than other teachers (a comparison Julia was well-qualified to make). She had started to cry in frustration when Verily interrupted her.

  "All right, Julia, it's all right." She reached across and placed a hand on the sixth-former's knee. "Having heard both sides, and observed Miss Gibson myself, I find I am in agreement with you. This was an unwarrantedly harsh punishment; and Miss Gibson does need to moderate her behaviour." Julia wiped her eyes and looked up in gratitude. The Headmistress continued. "However, this is a very delicate situation, as she is an otherwise valued member of my staff whom I do not wish to lose. And she is a very good hockey coach, isn't she? And we are hoping to win all our matches this term, aren't we?"

  Julia had to nod in agreement. Gibbo was a good coach, and the team had discussed their very real chances of winning all their games.

  "Very well. I will ensure that Miss Gibson does not punish so harshly in future. However, I also require you to apologise to her for your behaviour: it was brave, and justified, but also highly disrespectful." Julia looked up sharply, about to protest.

  "Julia," said Miss Markham firmly, holding up a hand. Julia subsided. "I hadn't finished. I am also going to require Miss Gibson to apologise to both you and Pearson. As you can imagine, that will be very difficult for her, but I am determined to make peace between you. You will wait until Sunday to make your apology, by which time I will have spoken to Miss Gibson on the same matter. And this requires another solemn promise from you."

  Julia was still absorbing the extraordinary idea of Gibbo apologising! "Yes, Miss?"

  "You must swear to me that neither you nor Pearson will tell another soul about Miss Gibson's apology. If you did, it would undermine Miss Gibson's authority, and my trust in you, forever." She emphasised this last word and paused. "Can you agree to that, and can you get Miss Pearson to agree?" Julia thought for a while.

  "I agree, Miss, and I think I can persuade Gab- Pearson, Miss, but, if I can't, you might need to talk to her yourself?"

  "That is easily arranged," said the Headmistress with a smile, as she leaned back into the sofa. "So! It's been quite a week, hasn't it?" Julia nodded vigorously, a happier look in her eyes.

  "Yes, Miss. Pretty strange."

  "Indeed." She rose, and Julia did likewise. "Thank you for your trust, Julia. And I know it seems highly improbable at this moment, but mark my words, you will learn to respect Miss Gibson in time."

  Julia looked uncertain, but nodded.

  "Right," said the Head brusquely, indicating the end of the interview and the resumption of more normal relations. "You'd better get along to your lesson."

  Julia's head was spinning and she couldn't wait to find Gabby, but, as she closed the oak door behind her, she also f
elt the weight of the two promises and the decision she had to make this weekend.

  ---oOo---

  All day, Rachel had been feeling rotten. Gently applying the cold cream up in the dorm, she'd seen how Mrs Palmer's strap had left Susie's bottom a mass of dark bruising and the thought of her getting the cane in prep - even the junior one - on top of that made her feel utterly miserable on behalf of her friend. And Susie herself had been bursting into tears frequently, leaving Rachel feeling helpless and very sad. It was during tea that the idea came to her, and, after careful thought, she decided it would be best not to tell Susie.

  Since Tuesday, Atkinson, their Dorm Captain had taken over from Patterson the role of summoner at the start of prep, leading the first batch of girls to the changing room and Miss Bainbridge, the second, usually more serious cases, to the Head's study. Atkinson carried out the task with efficiency but also some sensitivity. She'd felt the sting of various implements herself when she'd been a fourth-former, so she could empathise with the victims as they were led to their fates.

  When Atkinson appeared at the door of Lower Sixth C's form room at ten past seven with two sorry-looking fifth formers in tow and told Susan French she had to see the Headmistress, none of the girls were surprised: they'd heard about the two lates, and almost all felt great pity as they'd also heard about the strapping. What did surprise them, however, was Rachel Thomas getting up and leaving the classroom thirty seconds after Atkinson had led away the disconsolate Susan and her fellow miscreants.

  As soon as she was in the corridor, Rachel saw the four girls just turning the corner at the far end that led to Miss Markham's study. She walked as fast and as silently as she could and when she reached the end, she peeped cautiously round the corner to see Atkinson knocking on the large oak door. When Miss Markham appeared, Rachel marched boldly forward.