This story follows from The Photo
It was last year when I was cleaning out mums loft that I came across it. It was well hidden under a rafter at the end of the loft. It must have been there for twenty years. With it was a small note book.
I picked up the cane first. I had not handled it for twenty years or more. I must have been about eleven when I had handed it to him last.
I could not believe how thin it was. I bent it and it folded around completely. No wonder it stung like hell, I thought. And the bastard had first given it to me when I was not even six years old.
I put it down.
I picked up the note book and a piece of loose paper fell out of it. It was the paper copy of the photo which mum kept on the piano, the one of me as a five year old holding the picture I had been chosen to present to the mayor. I looked at the sweet innocent child in the photo. Did I really look so cute and happy then?
I opene the book. Inside was neat wording written in an ink pen. The first page began
''Well Tom, This is a your punishment book. The other week I visited a shop in London to buy a cane for you. I will put it in the loft when I leave, as I will when you are older.
I used the cane for the first time today. Your mother has gone to see your aunt for a week so we will be alone. I am confident that the marks will have gone when your mum gets back. The prefect cane is ideal from that point of view. Not sturdy but very whippy as you discovered this evening. You squeeled like a little piglet but you are so light it is easy to keep your bottom still while I give it what it needs. You make a lot more noise than my last son, but you are older.''
I closed the book and picked up the thin cane again. I would burn it. I went downstairs and into the garden. I set a fire. I flexed the thin whippy stick in my hands and, as I was about to throw it on the flames, something stopped me...what if I had a son one day.
I went back into the house, whipping the stick in my hand as I went back upstairs. I lay on my bed, pulled down my pants and underpants and with the stick in my right hand like a riding crop I bent forward and whipped my backside. The sting was terrific. The memories came back to me.
I replaced the cane where I had found it.