The Girls of Cropton Hall

by Stanlegh Meresith

  The soup tasted wonderful.

  ---oOo---

  There was a crack of thunder and rain began to teem as Tom Arnold hurried across the gravel, cradling the book under his jacket, and just made the shelter of the front entrance before he got drenched.

  He heard a crack of a different kind a minute later, one followed by a yelp, as he turned into the short corridor that led to the Headmistress' study. 'Ah!' he thought, 'another young minx getting her just deserts'. As he approached, he noticed the girl sitting on the bench.

  "Evenin', Miss," he said. "Waitin' tha turn, eh?"

  The ashen-faced girl nodded miserably. He leaned back against the wall opposite, the book under his arm, and looked down in a mixture of pity and satisfaction. Another crack was heard, followed again by a pitiful cry.

  "So what's tha name then?" he asked by way of kindly distraction from the fate that awaited her. She looked up at him suspiciously.

  "Morgan," she said sullenly.

  "Oh aye? Now let me see..." He rubbed his chin. "I remember a Morgan, sure I do, back in Headmistress Bentley's day. Right naughty lass she was too. I think she were a Sally, but I couldn't be sure..."

  The girl's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, perking up. "Gosh! That was my mother! You remember my mother?" She looked at him disbelievingly.

  "Oh aye, that I do. Pretty girl she was, but, ooooh dear, got into 'er share of scrapes she did."

  Suddenly, seemingly at the thought of her mother, young Morgan started to cry. At that moment the door opened and another fourth-former appeared, clutching the back of her skirt. She too was in tears, and Tom sighed. There was another peal of thunder, closer and louder this time.

  "Ah, Mr Arnold!" Edith Bainbridge, appearing at the door, almost had to shout. "Just a moment," she added. "Right, Morgan, go and wait for me in front of the desk. Girls who throw food during tea get their bottoms whacked, as Lewis has just discovered."

  Morgan went past her into the study, Lewis hobbled off down the corridor and Edith turned to Tom. "We seem to be having quite a storm, don't we? How may I help you, Tom?" she asked.

  Tom tried to disguise his disappointment. "Er ... I were 'opin' to find Miss Markham..."

  "I'm afraid the Headmistress has been called away for a day or two. Is it urgent?"

  "No, Miss B, it's just this," he said, clutching the book with both hands before him, somewhat possessively. "Found it up in't attic store room - that door's fixed now." He paused awkwardly before rather reluctantly handing Edith the book. "P'raps you could pass it on to Miss Markham? I think she might like to 'ave a look."

  "Of course, Tom. I'll see that she gets it," said Edith. "Now, if you'll excuse me, as you can see, I have a painful duty to perform."

  "Aye, Miss B, but painful for who, eh?" He gave her a wink and she allowed the hint of an indulgent smile. "I remember the lass's mother, too - Sally Morgan?"

  "Heavens!" exclaimed Edith. "You're absolutely right, Tom. Widowed in the war, poor thing, and since reverted to her maiden name for some reason. She brought this one up for a visit last term, of course she did. In fact I was reading an extract in my diary not long ago about Sally Morgan - and here's the next generation! We've been around the block, you and I, haven't we Tom?"

  "Aye, that we 'ave, Miss B, that we 'ave," said Tom with a sigh. "I'll leave you to your business then. Goodnight."

  "Goodnight, Tom. Mind you don't get soaked!" Closing the door behind her, Edith barked, "Right, Morgan, your first time I believe?"

  The fourth-former nodded, "Yes, Miss." She tried to catch the Deputy Head's eye with her own big, round, tear-filled ones, hoping to melt a little that authoritarian heart, but Edith had turned to place the book on the shelf of the bookcase by the door. Any further attempt at softening the mistress' punitive intent proved fruitless as Edith came over to the desk, picked up the plimsoll, grasped the girl by the shoulder of her blazer and marched her over to the sofa.

  "Lower your underwear and bend over the end here," she commanded. Morgan, her face crumpling in fear and self-pity, reached reluctantly under her skirt and pushed her knickers down.

  "I'm sorry, Miss," she said in a small, pleading voice. "Pleeeease don't whack me, Miss. Please. I promise I won't do it again."

  "I should hope you DO promise, Morgan, but I'm afraid that's not enough. I intend to give you the same dose I just gave Lewis. You wouldn't want me to let you off when Lewis has already taken her punishment, would you?"

  Morgan wiped her nose on her sleeve and considered this awkwardly tempting proposition for a few moments unhappily before shaking her head.

  "Very well, then. Bend over," said Miss Bainbridge.

  The girl leaned over the arm of the sofa and put her hands on the cushion beyond.

  "Right over," said the mistress, pushing down on the girl's shoulders so that her head met the cushion and her feet almost left the carpet. She then lifted the blue plaited skirt up and over Morgan's back, revealing the pert white bottom.

  A little 'Oh!' of surprised panic came from down below as the protection of the skirt was removed.

  "Pleeeease, Miss ... please don't whack me hard," came a tearful voice.

  "Nonsense, girl. You'll get what you deserve, and what Lewis got: six good whacks to teach you some table manners. Now shush, and take your punishment bravely. It will soon be over."

  Edith sighed and contemplated the virgin cheeks before her. It was a shame this was necessary, she thought. She raised the plimsoll and brought it down with a loud SMACK onto the girl's right buttock followed immediately by a similarly cracking blow to the left.

  "YEEEOOWW!" yelped Morgan in shocked protest. Two ovals of red appeared instantly, deepening in colour within seconds. "Ouch! Aaoooh!" complained the girl, kicking her legs.

  Edith delivered two further hefty blows, one to each cheek, again in quick succession.

  "AAAOOOOOHH!" cried the fourth-former, her legs bending at the knees and her feet coming up together as if they could somehow cool or protect her hot bottom, which was now turning a very deep scarlet. "OW! OW! Please, Miss, please ... not so h... "

  The fifth and sixth whacks rudely interrupted her in mid-begging.

  Morgan emitted a hearty scream, followed by sorrowful cries which quickly turned to sobs. Her hands reached back and her fingers clutched her blazing cheeks as she lay helplessly over the sofa arm.

  Edith was already replacing the plimsoll in the middle drawer, and came back now to stand, arms folded, watching the girl come to terms with exactly what a well-punished bottom feels like.

  "There now," she said. "It's over and done with. You may get up now, Morgan."

  Eventually the crying subsided and Morgan slowly pushed herself back up. She stood for a while, hands glued to her backside, an occasional sob shaking her shoulders, before eventually she reached down to pull up her knickers. She winced dramatically as the knickers came into contact with the afflicted area, but Edith could see she was already recovering well and realising that a whacking wasn't quite the death sentence that perhaps she'd imagined, or been told by other girls.

  "So, young lady, I trust you will remember that the proper trajectory for food is between plate and mouth, and NEVER through the air in the direction of a fellow pupil!" said the Deputy Head, guiding the youngster towards the door with a hand between her shoulders.

  "Yes, Miss," sniffled Morgan, her hands rubbing at her soreness through her skirt.

  Edith opened the door and ushered her out, saying with a hint of maternal indulgence, "Now run along, and keep out of mischief, you little scallywag!"

  "Yes, Miss," said the fourth-former as she scuttled away, anxious to put as much distance between herself and her painful memory of that study as she could.

  Edith shut the door and leant for a moment with her back against it, contemplating her own memories. A loud crack of thunder suddenly split the air and she jumped. 'Oh my!' she muttered. The steady drumming of a heavy downpour sounded beyond the bay windows. She made her
way over to Verily's desk and sat down, fingering the edge of the green leather inlay where it had become slightly frayed. She thought of Sally Morgan as she was as the little fourth-former whacked that time Verily herself had got the cane. For having a comic wasn't it? All those years ... her mind jumped to Verily in York and tomorrow's meeting with this Meeth character. Past, present and future jostled for her attention along with the stormy weather battering at the windowpanes. She felt a lowering oppression and wondered what other storms might lie ahead.

  ---oOo---

  Rachel caught up with Jane Wilkinson about half an hour before the latter's bed time curfew. She was about to go upstairs when Rachel, who'd already been to 4A's classroom looking for her, saw her from the other end of the corridor.

  "Hey! Wilko!" she called. Jane stopped and turned. She looked nervous.

  "Yes?" she asked as Rachel hurried towards her.

  "Can we have a quick word?" asked Rachel, leading her into a quiet corner.

  "All right," said Jane.

  "You told Bennett that I wanted to see her in the Art room," said Rachel, coming straight to the point.

  "Yes ... I did," Jane was blushing.

  "Why?" asked Rachel. "I never said that."

  "Well, someone told me you did. I was just passing the message on, that's all," said Jane, rather defensively.

  "But who told you that? It wasn't true!" said Rachel, indignantly.

  "I don't know," said Jane, "it was some sixth-former - Upper Sixth I think. She didn't say her name; just told me to pass the message on. I'm sorry if it wasn't true, Thomas. But I didn't know that."

  "It's all right. But what did she look like? Can you describe her?" Jane paused and looked up.

  "Um ... sort of medium tall with brown hair, sort of medium length ... I don't know ... you know, just a girl really."

  "Hm," said Rachel, disappointed. "All right, thanks, Jane. By the way, have you thought any more about ..." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "...joining SWACK?"

  "Well ... I don't know." Jane looked pleased but worried. "I'm sorry I didn't come to the meeting last Sunday ... I was ... a bit scared to be honest."

  "Hey! There's nothing to be scared of! We're not doing anything that wrong you know - not really. It's just a bit of fun - getting together, helping each other. Nice cool cream if you get whacked, have some special friends - we've all agreed to call each other by our Christian names - you can call me Rachel, by the way - and we've got a motto and membership cards and there'll be a Roll of Honour ..."

  Jane looked torn. She pursed her lips and twisted her mouth to one side. "Oh, all right, yes, I'll join, but ... Rachel?"

  "Yes, Jane," said Rachel, smiling,

  "I hope it's not going to get us into awful trouble or anything - I don't want to get the cane."

  "Trouble?" said Rachel, confidently. "Don't you worry, Jane. SWACK is a secret society, and that's the way it's going to stay. It'll be fine, you'll see."

  30. It May Be Maya But...

  The titters and sibilant murmurs started among the fourth-formers in the first two rows of the Hall. One or two fingers went up as neighbours were nudged to notice the black letters scrawled across the school crest affixed high up on the wall above the stage:

  S W A C K

  Rapidly the murmuring spread through the rows of fifth-formers and towards the back of the Hall. The staff who had already arrived for assembly and taken their seats were directly below the offending graffiti and were thus somewhat perplexed at the excitement, none of them reacting immediately to the girls' unusual behaviour. When the slightly delayed Miss Bainbridge appeared on the stage she immediately barked,

  "Silence! NO talking in assembly!"

  Even this, however, did not quell the murmurings entirely and the Deputy Head quickly sensed the atmosphere of strange excitement. In a moment's heart-sinking panic she was reminded of the assemblies under Mrs Weekes when this sort of behaviour was commonplace. Was it because Verily was away? Quickly noticing, however, where so many of the gazes were directed, she turned and looked up.

  Her features registered shock and puzzlement before a cold fury quickly took hold. She whirled round to face the assembled school again.

  "SILENCE! ... NOW!" she blasted. "The next girl to mutter so much as a SQUEAK will be caned."

  A hush fell instantly. Edith turned again to look up, as did many of the mistresses, getting up and stepping forward, craning back to see. The offending letters started in the bottom left corner and desecrated their way up and across the precious crest. Thin lines of black had dribbled down from the foot of the W and the C adding a macabre touch to the outrage. The Deputy Head turned a glowering face to the school once more. For several moments she scoured the rows, grim as granite, hoping to catch a knowing look, a giggle, a tiny squirm of guilt, anything that might give away the culprit or culprits. Girls cowered and the silence was so complete that one could almost hear the pounding of those hundred hearts.

  When she spoke it was with an icy calmness, though she ensured her voice reached the very back row.

  "Whoever has done this will be discovered and I can assure you now, they will be very, very sorry indeed." She turned back towards the staff. "Mrs Palmer, would you fetch Mr Arnold, please?"

  "Yes, Miss Bainbridge," said Eileen, getting up and walking to the door at the back. Edith turned to the girls again.

  "And those of you who found this amusing should be ASHAMED of yourselves." Several fourth-formers jumped at the suddenly shouted word. Edith descended the steps at the side of the stage. "And while we are waiting, in COMPLETE silence, for Mr Arnold to come and remove the crest with a view to cleaning off this ... this dis-GUSTING foolishness," she said, making her way along the front row until she stood at the top of the central aisle, "I shall explain to you all EXACTLY what is going to happen."

  She started to pace very slowly down the middle of the hall, looking up and down the rows from right to left and left to right, observing, scrutinising, alert for any signs of a guilty face, a revealing twitch.

  "I do not expect the culprits to stand up now and confess. However, if the perpetrators of this act of vandalism have not come forward by lunch time the entire school will gather here after this afternoon's lessons and sit in silence until it's time for high tea. There will be no games, no music, no leisure time."

  Reaching the back of the Hall, she turned and spoke to the backs of the girls. "And if anyone can explain exactly what ... " She peered again at the crest. " ... SWACK is supposed to signify, then they had better come forward as soon as assembly is over and share this information. Miss Markham is away this morning at an important meeting, and she will be VERY interested to know who has seen fit to insult the school - to insult ALL of us - in this manner."

  She began to retrace her steps, slowly again, back up the aisle, looking from side to side, pausing occasionally to peer along a row.

  Rachel's mouth was as dry as a bone and she sat bolt upright, daring neither to move nor look anywhere but straight ahead. When Miss Bainbridge paused at the end of her row she felt sure she must be staring at her, and she came very close to panicking, feeling her body almost twitching with the effort to remain still. She felt the injustice of having to feign innocence when she was innocent. But who had done this? What idiot had gone and spoiled everything?

  Susan, too, at Rachel's side, was terrified. She was blushing furiously and felt sure this must be spotted. Fortunately, she was sitting on the far side of Rachel from the aisle and she made sure she positioned herself behind her friend as exactly as possible without drawing any attention to herself.

  Miss Bainbridge moved on. She'd just reached the row where Alice and Grace were sitting side by side when Mr Arnold appeared in the doorway with Mrs Palmer. The latter pointed to the crest and he stood for a moment looking up, shaking his head. As he walked over to the wall behind the organ to fetch the step-ladder, Miss Bainbridge, back at the head of the aisle again now and facing the school, contin
ued:

  "Quite a number of girls have incurred a whacking this term, and many of you have been caned. However, only one or two to my knowledge have yet received the attentions of the Headmistress' most severe cane. If I say the name ... MOLLY ... I am sure you all know to what I am referring." She paused. "Well ... " Once again she let her gaze range over the rows of ashen-faced girls. " ... someone ... maybe more than one girl, sitting comfortably in this hall at this moment ... is going to be wishing they had never heard that name before this day is out."

  Mr Arnold had set up the ladder and was now carefully unhooking the crest from its perch. Mrs Palmer stood at the foot, holding the ladder steady as he climbed carefully down, straining with the weight of the large shield of wood towering over him. He placed the end on the floor briefly before lifting it again and making his way to the door. Mrs Palmer folded the step-ladder and carried it over to the side.

  Miss Bainbridge ascended the steps, walked to the lectern and announced the morning hymn. Miss Halsey struck up the opening chords and the school stood up to sing.

  "Dear Lord and father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways..."

  ---oOo---

  The hubbub as the girls made their way to breakfast was intense with speculation.

  "SWACK? What's it supposed to mean?"

  "It's just stupid."

  "I hope they get caught quickly. I don't want to sit in there for two hours in silence."

  "What is it anyway?"

  "Gosh! I wouldn't like to be in their shoes if they get caught!"

  "Never mind their shoes! It's their knickers I wouldn't want to be in - not for all the tea in China!"

  "Who do you think it was?"

  "Molly's on the march!"

  Rachel and Susan kept very quiet as they scuttled along the corridor, and when Charlotte and Jenny caught up looking pale with fear, Rachel waved them away with a frown and a shake of the head, to say, 'Not now!' There was no sign of Grace or Alice, and the fact that they hadn't come immediately to find her added to the suspicions Rachel was already beginning to form about who the culprits might be.