So things have gone very well really, considering how much organisation and supervision has been needed. I think Tuesday's canings in the Sixth Form common room may have had a salutary effect: the girls have conducted themselves, on the whole, with commendable maturity. Pearson's risen well to the occasion, showing excellent leadership, and I've noticed Bennett, Barton and Patterson backing her up, all working nicely together, which is marvellous. Of course, some of the younger girls have been getting rather over-excited. I had to give Wilson and Stewart a strapping this morning for smashing a window in their form room - they said they were practising hockey shots! They'll think twice before doing that again!
I asked all three dormitory mistresses to be on duty tonight - Founder's Eve always sees some kind of shenanigans in the dorms and we need to keep a close eye.
Finally had a chance to get my breath back after dinner over a lovely glass of port with Verily in her study. We discussed the details for the caning of Middleton and Jennings - and Thomas too of course: apparently she admitted she'd incited them to it - that'll be first thing tomorrow during assembly. Verily wants them in gym clothing and I'm to supervise them until the time comes.
I noticed that book Mr Arnold asked me to pass on sitting on Verily's desk. When I asked her about it she was curiously reticent. She picked it up and stared at it for a long time, almost wistfully, I thought. Eventually she put it down again and said, "Oh, it's just a record, Edith, a record of some people's lives."
Rather odd, really.
---oOo---
The mood in Dorm K on Founder's Eve was unusually subdued given that they'd had a whole day without lessons and even more excitement and freedom was promised for the morrow. In every other dorm, there were squeals and pillow fights and all sorts going on, keeping the Dorm Mistresses, Misses Dawson and Gibson and Mrs Palmer, as busy as bees. But here, there was a gloomy quiet, mainly in deference to what awaited two of their number in the morning: they all knew Rachel and Alice faced the cane - and Molly, no less. Charlotte and Elizabeth, too, were feeling somewhat sorry for themselves, still very sore after Miss Bainbridge had given them each six with the form strap for breaking a window in 4A.
"How many points would that be, Rachel?" Charlotte had asked, but Rachel had just muttered, 'Oh, I don't know' rather dismissively. SWACK wasn't top of her list of favourite topics just now.
Miss Dawson appeared in the doorway. "Well, at least there's one dorm behaving themselves," she said with a smile. Then she noticed Alice, sitting up in bed with her chin on her knees looking morose, and Rachel folding her clothes with an equally unhappy expression, and said, "Ah, yes ... of course. Well, girls, try to get a good night's sleep. Lots to do tomorrow. Good night!"
"Good night, Miss," called Sally and Susan. Christina carried on reading as usual.
"I wouldn't mind so much if my Mum wasn't coming," said Rachel, sitting disconsolately on her bed. "It's so ... embarrassing ... she's bound to find out. Miss Markham will probably tell her if no one else does."
"Sorry, Rache," said Alice. The Jenningses lived too far away to make the trip, so Alice was at least spared that particular ordeal. Imagine trying to hide a screamingly sore bottom from your parents for a whole day - eight or ten hours involving a considerable amount of sitting down what with all the shows and performances happening.
Jean Atkinson, the dorm Captain, returned from the bathroom in her dressing-gown. She looked over at the two sad girls. "So ... do you know when it'll be?" she asked.
"We've got to report to the changing-room at seven forty-five," said Rachel.
"Well, at least it'll be over soon then," said Jean. "Why the changing-room I wonder?"
Susan chipped in. "Rache reckons Marky will want them to put on their gym clothes," she said. "That's what happened when Rachel got Molly before - she had to put on her shorts and tee-shirt and go to the study like that."
"Ah, well, that'll probably be it then," said Jean. She glanced at her watch and went to the light-switch. She looked around. "Everybody ready?" Then she turned the light off.
---oOo---
Monica Gibson had kindly offered to do post-lights-out duty, allowing Eileen and Margaret to retire early after what had been a long day. By eleven-thirty, Monica had made four rounds of all the dorms from her base in the East wing, listening at doors, occasionally popping her head round, checking everything was quiet. Finally satisfied that sleep had indeed descended upon their charges, she made her way to Margaret's room and knocked quietly. Margaret opened the door a couple of inches and peered round it.
"Ah, it's you," she whispered, admitting her guest, but keeping herself sheltered from view. The reason became apparent once Monica had entered: Margaret was dressed solely in a thin white nightie that barely reached the top of her thighs. Having shut the door, Margaret went to the wardrobe and took a hairbrush from the shelf. She turned and held out her hands. The hairbrush lay across her two joined palms.
"Mmmm!" said Monica, appreciatively. "Am I to understand, Miss Dawson, that there has been some naughtiness for which a young lady is in need of correction?"
Margaret looked meekly up from her lowered head. "Y...yes, Miss," she said. "The Headmistress said you're to use the bristly side, Miss, so you don't make too much noise and wake the other girls, Miss."
Monica suppressed the smile at her mouth that shone in her eyes. "Did she now? How very sensible of her! And did the Headmistress specify how many whacks with the bristly side of the hairbrush would be deemed necessary in this case?"
"No, Miss. She just said you ... you should carry on, Miss, till you thought I'd learned my lesson."
Margaret held the hairbrush out further. Monica took it and went round to sit in the middle of the sofa. She patted the dark blue skirt covering her lap. "Very well then. Over here, girl, and be sharp about it."
Margaret knelt on the cushion to Monica's left and leant forward across her lover's thighs. Her nightie rode up, exposing her plump buttocks and the evidence of Saturday night's games - several faint stripes remained, criss-crossing her bottom and the tops of her thighs.
Monica ran a hand over the nearest cheek and squeezed. Margaret let out a little squeak and wiggled her bottom. "Please, Miss?" she said, turning her head. "Please don't beat me toooo hard, Miss."
"I shall beat you as hard as you deserve to be beaten, Dawson, no more, no less. You've been naughty, and now you must face the consequences. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, Miss, I suppose so," sighed Margaret.
"No suppose about it, girl, now stick that bottom out."
Thus, in the privacy of a mistress' sitting-room, it was the grown-ups' turn to enjoy some Founder's Eve fun at Cropton Hall.
Margaret thrust her bottom higher. Monica raised the hairbrush.
---oOo---
Susan didn't wait that long after lights out before slipping out of bed. She could hear Atkinson snoring softly and she wasn't too bothered about anyone else. She had a mission, a mission to cheer and console. She tiptoed across to Rachel.
In the bed next to Rachel's, Alice lay awake still. She turned over just as Susan was pulling back Rachel's sheet to climb in.
"Is that you, Susie?" she whispered.
"Yes - you don't mind, do you?" whispered Susan leaning across the gap. Alice was about to utter a very quiet 'No' when Rachel rose, leaning on an elbow.
"Why should she mind?" she whispered. "What about me? Maybe I mind!"
Susan turned and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Mind!" whispered Susan.
"Well, I might, mightn't I?"
"Yes, you might, but do you?"
"No, of course not, silly. Climb in."
They both giggled quietly. Susan slid in as Rachel held the sheet and blanket aloft and the two of them snuggled together. For a minute or two they shifted around rather noisily, making Alice wonder if maybe she would mind - she was having trouble getting to sleep as it was - but eventually her neighb
our and her visitor settled down to what sounded like some sedate fondling, the occasional kissing slurp and some breathy gasps.
It was well after midnight and Rachel and Susan were both half-asleep when the door to Dorm K opened very quietly and a figure slipped into the room. She crept across to the far corner and stood between Rachel's and Alice's beds, hesitating.
Susan must have sensed the presence for she suddenly jolted and sat up.
"Who's that?" she said, aloud, forgetting where and when she was for a second.
"It's Jenny," came a whisper close to her ear as the younger girl leaned in. "Which one's Alice - is this her, here?"
"Yes," whispered Susan. Rachel turned over and sighed, reaching out with her arm and pulling Susan back down towards her. Susan giggled and turned. She climbed on top of Rachel and started to kiss her, showing off a little before pulling the blanket back over them with a free arm.
Jenny edged closer to Alice's bed and leaned over. She could hear the soft regular breath of sleep and wondered if she shouldn't just leave her be, but she'd risked a lot to get here and she wanted to do just what Susan had: to bring comfort, and maybe some joy, to the one she loved.
She sat on the edge of Alice's bed and gently shook her shoulder.
"Hm?" Alice turned and rubbed her eyes on the back of a wrist.
"It's me."
"Jenny!" whispered Alice happily. She pulled back the sheet and shifted over to make room. Jenny shed her dressing-gown and climbed in. Alice made a saucy 'Mmmm' sound as their bodies met. They embraced in a tight-squeezing hug.
---oOo---
Friday, October 1st 1953 Founder's Day
Friday's dawn broke bright over the North Yorkshire moors, boding good tidings for the school nestling in the foothills and its special day.
Founder's Day had been celebrated at Cropton Hall School for Girls every year on October 1st since 1919, some thirty-one years after the Misses Campbell had enrolled their first pupils. Heather and Katherine Campbell, spinster sisters from Scotland, had come into a sizable inheritance and, having already taught in various private schools either side of the border, chose this site near Cropton village with its fine landscape and bracing country air to establish their school. When Katherine Campbell graduated to the Great Staffroom in the Sky, aged 68, in 1918 (Heather having preceded her sister on that hallowed journey two years previously) the Governors decided to honour their memory by instituting this day of celebration of all the school had to offer.
Over the years Founder's Day had grown in ambition and scope. Whilst it was, for the girls, a wonderful kind of holiday, for the Head and her senior staff it represented something of a trial. Parents and guardians, governors and dignitaries, alumnae and parents of prospective pupils would all be in attendance and so a degree of anxiety that everything should go well was understandable.
Verily Markham had scarcely sat down at her desk at 7.30 that morning when Edith popped her head round the door to say that Sir Wilfred and her Ladyship had arrived.
"Gosh - they're early," said Verily rising.
She was just in time to greet the Chair of Governors and his wife as they reached the top of the steps to the main entrance - a painstaking climb as Lady Althorp was leaning heavily on a walking-stick in her right hand.
"Verily!" beamed Sir Wilfred, supporting his wife with a hand under her left elbow.
"Sir Wilfred! Your Ladyship." Verily went to stand on Lady Althorp's right, just in case, though the care she took not to appear to be helping was confirmed as the right course of action when her Ladyship shooed her away with her stick, muttering, 'No, no, no!' rather petulantly.
Edith had tea ready, which Lady Althorp chose to take sitting at Verily's desk whilst surveying the Punishment Book. Sir Wilfred took his cup to the bay windows at the end of the room and looked out.
"Oh, I say!" he remarked. "Bloody magpies again!"
"Headmistress," said Edith, "I think I should be getting along to the changing-room - it's almost time..."
"Yes, Edith, of course. Bring them through the back door, will you? You'll know when by my announcement."
"Yes, Headmistress."
Lady Althorp had looked up sharply at this exchange and watched with curiosity as Edith left. "Where's she off to then?" she demanded, staring at Verily with rather rheumy eyes. "Something afoot is there?"
"Yes, Lady Althorp. Three of the girls are to be caned in assembly. I've asked Edith to supervise them until the time comes."
"Oh, jolly good, Verily, good show!" This use of her first name was a rare moment of approbation from the elderly woman, and Verily smiled.
"Now I insist on coming to observe," continued Lady Althorp. Verily raised her eyebrows and looked across at Sir Wilfred.
"Are you sure that's wise, my dear?" he asked, coming over. "The doctor said you're not to get too excited. Your heart's very delicate and you must rest, you know."
"WILFRED!" she barked, with surprising force given her obvious frailty. "If you think for one minute I'm going to shirk my duty as a governor to observe and evaluate our new Headmistress' skills in the administering of discipline, then you're more of a fool than even I thought you, man! Heavens, it's the very thing we employed her for!"
Sir Wilfred winced, looked at Verily and shrugged.
"I shall arrange a place for you among the staff, Lady Althorp," said Verily. "Sir Wilfred, I hope you won't mind if I leave you to amuse yourself here for twenty minutes or so?"
"Not at all, Verily. Duty calls! Anyway, I've got my Times. I'll be fine," said the old man, tapping the newspaper folded under his arm.
Verily went over and opened the cupboard on the far side of her desk. She took out and donned her black gown, then picked up Molly from the corner behind the desk. She turned to Lady Althorp.
"Shall we, your Ladyship?"
"We shall indeed, Verily," responded the grand old dame, eyeing the cane gleefully and pushing herself up on her stick. "Lead the way, my dear."
---oOo---
Rachel and Alice raced along the corridor to the changing-room. They were late. Alice was still tying her tie.
Miss Bainbridge was standing by the chest of drawers, arms folded, as they tumbled in through the door.
"Late! This morning of all mornings! If you weren't about to be punished as severely as you are, you two, I'd have you over that bench for a good whacking. Now go and join Middleton. And you needn't bother tying that tie, Jennings. You're to change into your gym clothes."
"Yes, Miss," muttered the two girls. They made their way to their lockers and began to undress.
Grace gave them both a frightened look. Her hands were shaking as she pulled up her white shorts. Rachel wanted to respond with some consoling remark, and she looked around to see if Miss Bainbridge was observing them. She was: standing at the end of their aisle, arms still folded beneath her considerable bosom, she eyed them sternly. Rachel made do with an encouraging smile which Grace, now slipping her plimsolls on over her short white socks, acknowledged with a rueful one of her own.
When Rachel and Alice were also attired in their white gym T-shirts, shorts and socks (Rachel in those same too-tight shorts she'd been caned in the day she'd gone into the village and been caught out of bounds), the Deputy Head said,
"Sit down over there." She indicated the bench near the door. "I shall be back for you in a minute. In the meantime, not a peep, do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss," they each responded meekly. Miss Bainbridge hurried out and they heard her heading off down the corridor.
"Oh God!" said Alice. "I wish I was anywhere but here."
"I know," said Rachel, "but it'll soon be over, Alice. Don't worry. I've had Molly, and ... well, yes, it is really painful, but it's not the end of the world, and with any luck she'll let us keep our shorts on like she did with me."
They sat in silence. Eventually, Grace cleared her throat. Her voice though, when it came, was still croaky.
"I ... I'm sorry, you two. This is
all my fault. I ... I wish..."
"Grace, we all did it, really," said Rachel leaning across to put a hand on the younger girl's knee. "It's mostly my fault really."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Alice, rolling her eyes. "Will you two shut up? Anyway, it's definitely not my fault. I don't even know why I'm here!"
Rachel giggled and looked admiringly at Alice.
"So, Rache," said Alice. "If we get, say, six with Molly, on our shorts, how many points would that be for SWACK?"
As Rachel looked up to start trying to work that out, Miss Bainbridge's voice suddenly made them all jump.
"I thought I quite expressly said you were NOT to talk, Jennings? Stand up, girl!"
Alice stood up, blushing. Miss Bainbridge strode over to the chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. She rootled around in there with her hand for a few moments before producing a long thin strap. She came back to Alice.
"Hold out your right hand, girl. Palm up! Further ... yes, that's right."
She raised the strap and brought it down sharply across Alice's palm.
"Yeeouch!"
Alice's hand pulled back quickly and she cradled it under her left armpit as her face registered the pain of the stinging blow.
"And now your left."
"Please, Miss, I was only..."
"SILENCE, GIRL!" Miss Bainbridge held up the strap threateningly and Alice cowered for a moment.
"Hold out your left hand, Jennings and do it now, or I shall give you extra."
Reluctantly, Alice held out her left palm, turning her face away and wincing as she saw the strap rise again.
It thwacked across her palm and she cried out again.
The Girls of Cropton Hall Page 52