Neil walked quietly along the corridor pondering his fate. It was the first time since he had joined this school, at age 15, that he had been sent to the headmaster. He had not done his Maths homework and had tried to bluster his way out of this which the teacher, old Smithy, had decided was tantamount to lying and warranted a chat with the headmaster.
At Neil's old school it was quite different. Every teacher had a crook-handled cane in their classroom and he would have recieved a sharp four strokes at the front of the class over his trousers and returned to his seat. It hurt but it was over and done with wihout any fuss.
Neil wondered if he would be caned this time. The cane seemed much less used at St Joseph's, although he had twice passed the head's study when a line of boys was outside. Each time he had heard the swish of a cane but had been unable to hang about long enough to see a boy emerge or even to count the strokes. And there had been little said about such events among the boys. Mind you, he had only been here three weeks.
He approached the solid oak door and knocked firmly on it.
"Enter!"
He oopened the heavy door, went in and closed it behind him. The old man was seated at his desk making notes on a sheet of paper. "old man" was a more accurate description than usual as the headmaster, Mr Pemberton-Stockly, was surely very near retirement. He was clearly healthy but did not seem the kind of man that had ever been in good shape so presumably had never scared a boy with the threat of a caning.
Neil was asked why he was there and explained about the homework. After a tortuous round the houses discussion about who said what the headmaster decided that Neil had indeed been lying.
"This is the first time you have been sent to me. I might consider a reprimand" - Neil hoped he would - " but you are old enough to know better and, as you clearly do not, I shall try to deter such future wrongdoing with a dose of the cane."
It hardly sounded frightening. He screwed the top onto his fountain pen, stood up and walked behind Neil to a tall bookcase. From the far side he unhooked a cane and walked across the room to a sturdy-looking chair which was presumably kept for this very purpose. he pulled the chair into the room, turning it so the seat faced the centre of the room.
At this point Neil noticed the cane for the first time. It was not a yellow crook-handled cane that he had known before, but rather a very dark brown knobbly one, just like Charlie Chaplin's in the film. An old cane for an old man, he thought.
"Bend over!"
The traditional instruction. No fuss, no testing the cane, no lecture; all very clinical. He had been caned before and knew the routine. He walked to the chair and bent forward, placing his hands on the seat and then sliding them outwards to grip the edge. He wondered if
"SWEESHTHWACK!!"
Bloody hell! He had hardly grabbed the seat when the first stroke landed. The sound was a good deal higher in tone that other canes he had heard and
"SWEESHTHWACK!!"
_s_h_i_t_!! the pain was unbearable! It must be this cane, he thought. It feels as if the thing is biting deep into my flesh and cutting
"SWEESHTHWACK!!"
"AAARGH!!!"
"Be quiet, boy! Take your medicine like a man"
"Medicine?! Neil could hardly contain himself. This was sheer agony. He didn't know if he could take another
"SWEESHTHWACK!!"
Oh God! Four, and it must have only been four seconds. Please let that be it, surely I cannot get any more for a first offence.
"Stand up".
Just let me get my breath he thought. I can't stand yet, just let me...
"Either get up or I will assume you have not had enough. Stand in front of my desk"
Neil forced himself to his feet. Moving hurt too. He walked steadily back to stand in front of the old man but his buttocks hurt again when he moved them. He had wanted to rub them after previous canings but this time he had no inclination to touch them at all.
The headmaster placed the cane on the desk, took the punishment book from the drawer, unscrewed the top of his pen and began to enter the details. It all seeemd to happen in slow motion and Neil just prayed that he would be dismissed. he didn't know how he was going to walk back into the clasroom: did they all know what this was like?
he looked at the cane laying on the desk. It was about the usual length and certainly no thicker but there were knobbly bits every few inches along its length and it was a really deep brown in colour. It occurred to him that it was barely warmed up and the old man was not even out of breath. No wonder he was able to keep discipline at his age!
Neil had been struggling to hold the water back in his eyes. He wasn't crying but a definite tear was forming in the left eye and it broke loose just as the headmaster looked up at him.
"I see the message has been well received! I hope this will be enough to keep you on the straight and narrow, young man, but rest assured that if you are sent to me again it will be six strokes."
"Yes sir. Sorry sir, thank you sir." Neil was unsure of the ritual at St Joseph's.
"Back to class and no more disobediance."
Neil left the room quietly and carefully and started on his way back to class, but it hurt so much to walk as the muscles in his buttocks moved against each other. Was he cut, he wondered, there were certainly weals all the way across.
He looked at his watch. Perhpas he should visit the cloakroom first...
[to be continued...]