"Now over the end of the desk there boy. Bottom right up in the air. I want the skin nice and taught. Put your hands out along the desk. Matron if you would be good enough to hold the boy's hands. Thank you."
Nicky lay across the desk his bare bottom raised and taught ready for the cane. It was a position with which he was all too familiar. His Dad and increasingly his Mum had often required him to offer his bare rump for punishment. But although the position was a familiar one the terror and humiliation he now felt was altogether greater. He loved his Mum and his Dad, even if he had come also to fear them a little. He knew that they cared for him and that they hurt him because they cared for him. When they beat him it was for his own good, to make him a better boy. They had told him so often. Sometimes they hurt him a great deal and he would cry and whimper as the cane raised weals across his bare flesh but even as he suffered he knew that when the punishment was over he would be forgiven. He would be cuddled and comforted. His tears wiped away. His nose blown and wiped clean.
This time was it was very different. These people cared nothing for him. Mr Adams was going to beat him, not because he cared about him, but because he thought of him as an animal to be tormented, hurt and broken. Joe had been cruel and unjust to him on the journey down and he was sure would be so again. As for the Matron, with her strange unfeeling staring eyes, who had looked at him as though he was not a life feeling creature but a slab of meat, he knew he would look in vain for cuddles or sympathy from her.
He felt the touch of the cane against his bare flesh. He tensed. Mr Adams was measuring his distance. It would not be long before he began.
"Hold that boy's hands tight now Matron," the Principle ordered.
The cane hissed down and cracked across Nicky's unprotected flesh. The pain drove the breath out of his body. He fought for air as the man stood over him waiting for the spasm to pass.
A second time the cane slashed down. Nicky screamed as the pain tore through him.
Another pause.
"You always make them scream really loudly Principal," Matron remarked admiringly.
"Yes I want his cries to be heard all over the building. It has a good effect on the other boys."
The beating resumed. The sound of wood striking bare flesh, the screams of the tortured boy, the drumming of his bare feet on the floor as he leapt and writhed in his agony filled the room. Mr Adams worked his way steadily from the top of Nicky's bum downwards to the top of his thighs, each stroke placed neatly parallel to the preceding one. At last the beating was almost over. The man stood back to admire his work. He was, as he often remarked, a craftsman and took a pride in a job well done. The boy's backside was covered with bruises, scarlet blending into deep red and deepening to purple and dark blue.
Slightly changing his stance he delivered the final two blows diagonally across Nicky's already ravaged flesh. The boy's screams reached a fresh crescendo.
"I doubt if there's a boy in the place who didn't hear that," Mr Adams said with satisfaction.
Matron let go her grip of Nicky's hands. The boy sank sobbing to the floor at Mr Adam's feet.
"Joe," Mr Adams said briskly, "get that disgusting little animal out of here. Put him in the reception dormitory."
"Matron I want him here tomorrow morning at nine thirty sharp to receive the balance of his punishment."
Joe grabbed Nicky by his arm and hauled him to his feet. He half marched half carried the whimpering boy from the room, across the great hall, through a green baize door and along a dark cold corridor .He stopped outside a plain wooden door with a heavy metal bolt. He swung it open and to reveal a small windowless room which smelt strongly of stale urine. On it's stone flagged floor was a thin mattress with a couple of brown grubby looking blankets. The only light came through the open door.
Joe pushed Nicky down onto the mattress and roughly spread the blankets over him. Without a word he turned and left the room. He slammed the door shut leaving the boy in total darkness. Nicky heard him shoot the bolt home.
Nicky lay there crying quietly. Perhaps the man was right. Perhaps it was all his fault. Perhaps he was an evil wicked boy. Why else was he here and been treated so cruelly. "How my bottom hurts", he thought and then "I've got the same again tomorrow." He cried with redoubled vigour.
----------
Nicky was awake. Huddled in the blankets he could feel the mattress damp underneath him. He had no idea what the time was.
The door swung open and daylight filtered into the squalid room.
"Come on out of there," Joe shouted. "You've got an appointment with Mr Adams in an hour and you've got to be cleaned up before then."
Joe came right into the room and wrinkled his nose
"God you are filthy little animals the lot of you . Come on get up when you're told."
The man kicked the mattress on which Nicky lay.
The boy pulled himself painfully to his feet. Joe grabbed him by the arm above the elbow gripping him so hard that he cried out.
Once again Nicky was marched along a series of comfortless corridors. Every now and again they met young boys, all were dressed in the home's uniform of thin T-shirt and shorts, all appeared cowed and frightened, all pressed themselves back against the walls to allow Joe to pass.
Eventually they went down a flight of concrete steps into a large room. Down the centre stood a double line of baths while along both walls were a series of showers.
Joe switched on one shower and pushed Nicky under it. The boy gasped as the hot water stung his skin. Joe produced a block of soap that smelt strongly of disinfectant and ordered Nicky to clean himself up. The man stood watching as the boy soaped himself down.
"And your bottom too," he ordered.
"Sir, please Sir it's sore," Nicky pleaded.
"'Sir, please Sir it's sore Sir," Joe imitated the boy's voice derisively. "It's going to be a bloody sight sorer in short order and it'll be sorer still if you don't clean it up. Mr Adams won't tolerate a boy who presents him with a dirty bottom for punishment. Now come on - or do I have to get in there and clean it for you?"
Gingerly the Nicky obeyed. When at last Joe was satisfied he took the still damp boy back though the house. They passed through the clean baize door and Nicky realised he was in the hall where he had first entered the house the previous evening. It was a vast room dimly lit by mock gothic stained glass windows set high in the walls. In a line along one wall next to the door to the Principles study stood half a dozen boys. All stood facing the wall, hands by their sides. All wore the regulation Ovingdean House T-shirt and nothing else. Some of their bottoms Nicky could see seemed to be unmarked, most however bore the marks of recent beatings. As they approached the boys remained staring at the wall although Nicky thought he detected a ripple of apprehension pass along the line.
Joe lead the boy to the end of the line furthest from Mr Adams' study.
"Stand there, face the wall, don't look round. Matron will be here in a few minutes."
He landed a hard slap with the flat of his hand on the boy's sore rump causing Nicky to squeal.
Eventually Nicky heard the sharp clip of a woman's leather soled shoes approaching. Two of the boys began to cry. He cowered against the wall his gaze fixed resolutely forwards. Matron passed him without pausing. There was a sound of an open palm striking bare flesh.
"Stop that stupid caterwauling," the Matron ordered as she went into the Principals study. "You will all have plenty to cry about soon enough."
A minute or two later she came back out into the hall.
"All right. Into the study and line up facing the desk."
Mr Adams was standing by his desk the cane in hand. Nicky noticed the pillow was already in its place on the edge of the desk.
" First boy step forward."
A dark haired boy from the far end of the line came forward to stand beside the desk. He moved slowly and clumsily as if only partly in control of his limbs. Nicky could see even from where he was standing that he was trembling.
"Sims. Principal," the Matron said reading from a black notebook she held in her hands. "Sheets found to be stained this morning."
"Abusing yourself eh? filthy little beast. All you boys are the same; just animals, no brains, no self control, nothing. Well I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget. It's no good trying to appeal to your conscience, to your sense of right and wrong. You boys are trash you don't have consciences. You can't tell the difference from right and wrong. But you've got backsides and I'm going to write such a lesson on your backside that you'll remember it to the day you die."
"Please Sir...it was an accident Sir."
"It was self abuse. If I say it was self abuse - it was self abuse you insolent brat. I shall give you twelve strokes now and twelve strokes this evening."
"Matron make a note. See that Sims is here again this evening for twelve further strokes."
" Get down boy."
"Matron hold Sims tight. I'm going to flog him hard."
Nicky watched horrified as Mr Adams raised the cane high over his right shoulder and brought it crashing down across the boys defenceless bottom with sickening force. The cane rose and fell with remorseless regularity as the boys shrill screams increased in volume and urgency.
Nicky glanced down the line of watching boys Fear, horror and excitement marked their faces.
At last Sims's flogging was over. The sobbing boy was sent back to stand in line with the other lads. One by one the boys were called forward to suffer the consequences of their juvenile faults. Running in the corridor, loitering in the corridor, idleness, slovenliness, impertinence, none seemed too serious. All were punished by beatings of the utmost ferocity as Mr Adams laboured at his self appointed task of seeing that the agonised screams of his victims should penetrate to the furthest recesses of Ovingdean Hall.
Finally it was Nicky's turn once again to bend down across the desk and feel the cruel bight of the rod. Numbly he moved forward.
"Ah," Mr Adams said. "While I always prefer to see the results of my handiwork as a beating proceeds there are occasions when aesthetic considerations have to give ways to practical ones. I do not wish on this occasion to split the skin of this boy's bottom. Matron soak a napkin in cold water and spread it over the brats rump. That should prevent my bloodying it and will not appreciably diminish the pain that it is my intention to inflict on him."
Nicky started at the feel of the cold damp cloth against his bare skin. Mr Adams measured his distance carefully. Nicky tensed himself in readiness for the first cut. He knew there was no escape and no point in pleading for mercy. All he could do was to suffer and suffer he did. He soon ceased to be able to distinguish between the pain of the different strokes as the cane cracked down across his bottom. All he was aware of was an agony that seemed to consume his whole body. Vaguely, as though at a great distance, he heard the sound of his own screams echoing in his head.
Then he heard Mr Adams saying "get up boy" and found himself being pulled to his feet by matron.
"Boys," Mr Adams said, "that is all for the moment. I hope you are all duly grateful for the time and effort I have spent trying to teach you obedience and respect for your betters. I have no doubt that I will be obliged to give you all similar lessons again in the not too distant future."
"Sims I would remind you that you have another appointment with me this evening."
"You will all now go immediately to your appointed duties. I will personally flog any boy who is caught loitering."
"Matron, I believe you have a further procedure to inflict on that brat you're holding."
"Dismissed."
The whimpering boys jostled each other in their eagerness to escape from Mr Adams and his cruel cane.
-------
Matron lead Nicky to a door marked "Sick Bay". Inside the room stood a uniformed policeman.
"Good afternoon Sergeant Nicholls," Matron said.
"After noon Matron," the man replied. "This is the new boy is it?" he continued. " I heard you had a fresh boy here and I just came down now to have my usual word with him."
"Well Sergeant I was just about to complete his induction process. . If you would wait just a second while I administer the enema you can talk to him while he holds it in. You won't take more than five minutes will you?"
"No not more then five minutes. I must say the efforts you and Mr Adams and the other staff here make to bring discipline and control into these boys' lives always impresses me. It must often be a thankless and difficult task in view of the low calibre of the boys."
"Yes, sweepings of the gutter is what we get here," the Matron said grimly, "mentally, morally and physically degenerate. Take this one, sent here for protection from his father, but you know what that really means, the brat's a natural little whore led the man on."
As she was speaking Matron busied herself placing things on a small table that stood by armless hard backed chair. A strange syringe shaped object with metal nozzle, a jar of Vaseline and an enamel bowl which she filled with warm soapy water. She pulled on a rubber apron and sat down on the chair.
"Come here you," she commanded Nicky. "face down over my knees. Quick now. Legs apart. Relax would you. I'm quite prepared to do this without the Vaseline if you don't co-operate. It won't hurt me."
"Now stay like that. For heavens sake what a fuss. In it goes. There we are."
"Now back on your feet and listen to what Sergeant Nicholls has to say to you."
She tipped Nicky back onto his feet. She smiled as she saw the boy, no doubt feeling the pressure inside him, clench his little bottom as tight as he could.
"Right boy," the Sergeant said ponderously, "I just want you to know that we all round here fully support Mr Adams in the way he runs this home. You boys are all delinquents and need strong discipline and I'm glad to see from the bruises on your bottom that you've had a taste of that already. Why are you fidgeting about boy?"
"Sir, please Sir, I want to go to the toilet Sir. Please."
"You'll have to wait until I have finished speaking to you. Now let me see where was I? Ah yes. Don't think you will get any help or sympathy if you come to us with any complaints about your treatment. If any one of you does complain and boys have been foolish enough to do so in the past, we simply inform Mr Adams and leave him to deal with the matter. I don't think any boy has complained more than once. Do you know of an instance Matron?"
"No I do not Mr Nicholls. Do stop fidgeting about like hat boy. Pay attention to what the Sergeant is saying."
Matron noticed that Nicky was now holding onto the back of his bottom with both hands. She smiled to herself. This was the part of the induction process that she always found the most entertaining.
"Further more," the policeman continued, "should you run away from this place you can be quite sure that you will be caught and returned to Mr Adams. Even if you get outside my police area the police force that does finally apprehend you will return you to us and we will pass you on to Mr Adams. Do you understand boy?"
"Yes Sir. Please Sir can I go to the toilet now Sir? I can't hold it in much longer Sir."
"You'll have to ask Matron boy. That's her business not mine."
"Matron please Matron?"
"Yes go on. Use the toilet over there," Matron said indicating a door- less cubicle in a corner of the sick bay.
As Nicky dashed towards it he heard the two adults laughing at him.
"Come on out of there," Matron called after a couple of minutes, "this isn't a holiday camp."
She had ready for Nicky the shorts and T-shirt which formed the uniform for the boys of Ovingdean House.
"Could you do me favour Mr Nicholls?" she asked as the boy hastily dressed himself. "Take this boy down to the lodge and hand him over to the Head Gardener. He's to start off working for him."
"Matron, please, could I have something to eat please?" Nicky whined. "I haven't had anything since.....Ow."
The woman landed a ringing blow on the side of his head with her fist.
"You talk when you are spoken to and not otherwise." she snapped. "You'll get some food when you've earned it. The rule here is no work no food. Now please take him away Mr Nicholls before I get really rough with him."
--------
Half an hour later Nicky was busy weeding a rose bed. Any one looking at him would have thought that he had accepted his fate. But as he worked between the bushes he was trying desperately to think of a way to escape. All he could think of was to get to a telephone. If he could do that he could telephone his Dad, he knew their home number off by heart, and he was sure Brian would come and help him. But he hadn't noticed a telephone anywhere in Ovingdean House. Almost certainly there was one in Mr Adams's study but he didn't think it was likely he would find a chance to use that. He just had to wait, try to keep out, of trouble and keep his eyes open.
-------------
Brian was sweating. It wasn't the heat although the small office was warm enough with the three men crowded into it. It was fear. He couldn't understand what was happening. Perhaps on reflection he had been a little too rough with the two boys but he had never done any thing else but discipline them. He liked them both but it was no more than the perfectly proper affection that a father felt for his sons.
"I tell you," he said desperately, "I never touched Nicky in that way."
"And I tell you Mr Roberts," Detective Inspector Samson replied grimly, "that we have two independent medical reports that state Nicky has been _s_e_x_ually assaulted over a long period of time. If it wasn't you who was responsible - who was it?"
"The other boy? Adam," Brian suggested reluctantly.
"No boy did what's been done to your stepson," Dr Butler said.
"Look here Mr Roberts," the policeman said leaning forward and speaking earnestly, "I'm not pretending we have a cast iron case against you. If we did we would not be having this conversation. You would be in the cells awaiting trial. For one thing Nicholas will not say who has done these things to him. However the circumstantial evidence is strong and if you give us no choice we will prosecute."
"If we do and fail to get a conviction your reputation will be tarnished. I think it unlikely that your wife would be able to stand the heat and we would anyway see that Adam was put on the at risk register so that you and she, if she remained with you, would be subject to constant supervision. That is the best case scenario from your point of view."
"If we succeeded in our prosecution you would face a prison sentence of about six years and paedophiles do not have a pleasant time in goal. Again I would think it likely your wife would leave you. You would certainly loose any contact with Adam. Furthermore when you came out of prison you would have to place your name on the _s_e_x_ offenders register and we in the police would keep a close watch on you and would consider it our duty to inform your neighbours where ever you may move of your conviction, as under the law we are authorised to do."
"Our primary interest in this case is the welfare of your stepson. It seems clear to us that it is in his own best interest that he is removed from your care. In view of the comparative weakness of the case against you we are prepared not to prosecute if you will give us your written agreement to his being taken into care."
"I just haven't touched the boy in that sort of way," Brian said unhappily.
"Mr Roberts," Dr Butler intervened, "if you did not abuse that boy somebody else did. That boy knows you are under suspicion but he chooses not to clear you by naming that other person. There are two points I would put to you. First, in that event would it not be as well to get Nicholas away from who ever is abusing him and since we do not know who that is and he will not say, would not the sensible solution be to have him taken into care. Second, if he prefers to protect the man who is abusing him to clearing you from a very grave suspicion that could lead to you spending a considerable time in prison do you really want to risk your liberty and reputation to bring him back here."
"It just sounds so unlike Nicky," Brian protested. "Well I did not abuse him so some one else did. As you say perhaps it would be best for everybody if he is kept away from here. Where's that document you want me to sign."
----------
"You see Andrew," the Minister said, "it is difficult. I care for those boys, for each individual one of them. But once a boy begins to gets much beyond fourteen, well, I loose interest. I can't help it. It's just the way I am. It means that at the most any relationship I have can only last four years and then I have to find a replacement."
Dr Butler sighed and tried to look interested. He couldn't remember how often he had heard this conversation in the past. The first time he supposed must have been some thirty years ago when he was fourteen and Matthew Ellis the Captain of Rugby, now a Minister of the Crown with a seat in the cabinet and hope of a really important ministry after the next reshuffle, was explaining he loved another. Some how they remained friends and the price of this friendship so far as Dr Butler was concerned was to have to listen to this particular monologue every so often. . Dr Butler decided it was time to bring the monologue to an end.
"I arranged for a new boy to go to Ovingdean just this week that I think might interest you. Why don't you come down with me this Saturday and have a look."
The Minister reached for the phone.
"My wife please," he said.
"Oh darling. This week end. I am so sorry but the P. M has asked me to take part in a brain storming session on the drafting of our mission statement on tackling youth delinquency. You know how much he values my contributions on that matter, although not strictly in within the remit of my current office. I do something to counter the influence of all those bleeding heart liberals our party is lumbered with."
"Yes darling I know it's a disappointment."
"I'll miss you too darling."
He put the receiver down and turned to face Dr Butler.
"What time will you be picking me up William?" he asked.
---------
Nicky knelt on the damp earth, his knees and hands caked with mud, his fingers and bare feet numb with cold. It had been raining for a long time. Precisely how long Nicky did not know for he had lost track of time. His days had become a long round of hunger, exhaustion, abuse and fear.
He heard footsteps behind him. Since it had begun to rain and the boys had had their plimsolls taken away from them to avoid them getting spoilt , footsteps meant only one thing , staff and staff meant, unless you were very lucky, bullying and blows.
The footsteps stopped just behind him. He did not dare to look round, to do so would be to invite trouble. So far as he could judge there were two people standing there. He continued to work at turning the earth between the rose bushes with his trowel. His work was simple and heart breaking. For days now he had been weeding this flower bed. He had worked his way from one end of it to another over and over again. He hated and resented every second he spent there grovelling in the damp earth but he did not show it. He nursed to himself his plan; to get to a phone and to call his Dad and took comfort in his absolute certainty that his Dad would come and safe him.
"That's the boy." a vaguely familiar male voice said behind him.
"He's pretty dirty," another man spoke.
"Just mud. They'll clean him up before he's brought to you. Want a closer look. Boy, you boy come