In the earlier instalments of this history I told of my time at Manor Prep School for Boys. I began with my arrival as an eight year old, telling of my first slipperings. I moved on to describe my first encounter with the dreaded cane and then my first caning from the headmaster. Finally, I told of my appointment as a prefect and of how I could, and did, send junior boys to masters for canings and slipperings. The story resumes with my arrival at my new public school. I will call it Towcester School (all names in this series have been changed but the stories themselves are true). Although I concluded my last chapter by saying that this one would chronicle my first term at Towcester, I have found that there was too much of note in that term to occupy only one chapter. This one, therefore, will cover only the first two weeks.
I was thirteen years old and had been at boarding school for five years. But that did not prevent the inevitable first term nerves felt by any boy going to a new boarding school for the first time. For the previous year I had enjoyed immunity from serious punishment and great powers over younger boys. But I had no illusions about what to expect from Towcester. Manor sent several boys a year to the school and some had returned to their prep school, on old boys' days, to tell us of their new lives. Chief among the accounts they gave us were those of the punishments they suffered. So I knew already that I was going to a school in which discipline was almost entirely the responsibility of the prefects. I knew that some of those prefects had the "power of the rod". I knew that prefects' canings were generally thought to be a great deal more effective than those we had suffered at Manor. But all was not doom and gloom. I had also heard about splendid boys' escapades such as midnight swims and illicit meetings with girls from the town's girls' public school. I was aware that sports were taken incredibly seriously, something which appealed to me since I was a pretty good rugby and cricket player. Although, as I say, I had no illusions and, in particular, was well aware that someone of my slightly mischievous nature was bound to be on the receiving end of the cane before long, I embarked on this new stage of my education with a reasonably optimistic frame of mind.
But I was certainly nervous. I had been used to being a "big boy", lording it over smaller boys. Now I was to be a small boy again, and the bigger boys were going to be frighteningly bigger. I guessed, I fear correctly, that we new boys would not be immune from bullying. Then there was the scale of the place. There were something like one hundred boys at Manor. Towcester had nearer seven hundred. There had been ten masters at Manor. There were about fifty at Towcester. Although Mr Spencer had introduced the concept of houses at Manor, they were not physical houses. We had all been tolerably comfortably housed in one building. At Towcester there were eight houses, and they were physical houses. Indeed, they were, in some cases, quite far apart. I was to be in the largest, School House, with something like a hundred and fifty other boys. Although it might be an overstatement to say that Manor had been like a large family, it was not a great overstatement. But Towcester could hardly be described like that. Or at least so I thought as I arrived in my father's car and looked up at the enormous Victorian building which housed School House, the school chapel, the gym, the school theatre and several classrooms. There were two main entrances to the building. One, for School House and one for those parts which were used by boys from all the houses. We already knew that we were to enter by the School House entrance. There was no one there, at the entrance, to greet us, but there were signs directing new boys, of whom there were about thirty, to a large assembly room. Other signs directed parents of new boys to the housemaster's private quarters. My parents said they would come and find me after their talk with Mr Rolands, the housemaster, and I set off, through seemingly endless corridors, following the signs to the assembly room.
Finally I got to the assembly room. The door was open and I could see that there were already about ten boys there. There was no one in authority present. I supposed we would just have to wait for someone to come. I was relieved to see that one of the new boys was my old friend from Manor, Rowntree. I could see that he, too, was pleased to see me. There were thirty chairs set out in three rows facing a small dais. Rowntree and I bagged two of the chairs in the front row and sat next to each other. We were soon happily relating accounts of our summer holidays. After a while another new boy came in and, clearly seeing no one he knew, rather bravely came over to introduce himself to us. His name was Lemming. He was quite handsome in a way, about the same height as Rowntree and me (we were both tall for our ages), with short dark hair and a slim but fit looking build. I am pleased to be able to report that we did not, as boys of that age often do, spurn his approach to us. He took the seat next to me and we began the mutual interrogation which new boys in any school must indulge in. He had been to a prep school against whom we had played most sports and we were able to recall matches in which all three of us had played. He lived, as I did, in London. I asked him, typical of me I am afraid, whether his previous school had used the cane. He said it had, but only rarely. He had been caned twice, but had the slipper more times than he could remember. He had heard, he said, that the slipper was not used at all at Towcester. All punishments were with a cane. We agreed that that was what we had also heard. I think he was impressed when we told him that we had both been caned eight or nine times at Manor. But we were all of the view that the canings we would get at Towcester would be rather more of an ordeal than any of us had had before.
By the time we had been in the room for about half an hour, three more Manor boys joined us (they were Chapman, Johnson and Lynch) and two boys from Lemmings' old school almost ensured that our group filled the front row. Soon all the chairs were taken and a tall boy, who must have been seventeen, came in and stood at the dais. Although I had not seen him for about four years, I instantly recognised him as Davies, the prefect who had shown me round Manor on my first day there. I knew he had gone to Towcester, but had not known that, as he clearly was, he was now a prefect and in School House. He called for silence and then addressed us. Strange as it may seem, I can almost recall, word for word, what he said.
"Good afternoon lads and welcome to School House, the best house in the best public school in the land. My name is Davies. I am head of house. That means I am the one you can come to if you have any problems you need to discuss. I am also, of course, in overall charge of house discipline. That means that if and when you misbehave, you will have me to answer to. But I don't want any of you to think that, just because I may have to punish you occasionally, I am not your friend. I'm not going to speak for long this afternoon. I know that you would never take in all I could say about the rules here. I'm just going to tell you about the rest of today and the basic rules about behaviour, and what happens if you get into trouble. As soon as we have finished in here, I will take you out to the car park where you can have a minute or two to say goodbye to your parents. After that, I will take you on a quick tour of the main parts of the house. I will then leave you in your studies. As new boys, you will be three to a study. Next year it will be two. After that you get a study to yourselves. You should remain in your studies until you hear the school bell for supper. You will then walk, not run, to the house dining room. Further instructions will be given to you after supper. Right, now for the less pleasant part of my talk. It is only fair to you that you should know immediately what you can expect if you misbehave. All prefects can give you black marks. Each black mark is entered in something called the Black Book, which is kept in my study. A black mark remains active for one calendar month from the day on which it is given unless, in the meantime, you have managed to acquire three or more black marks. Should that happen, I am afraid it will be my unpleasant duty to have to punish you. I believe that it is likely that Mr Rolands will ask me to cane any boy with three or more black marks. So do try not to get into trouble. We are not ogres here. We know that you cannot possibly lear! n all the rules on your first day, so you are not likely to get any black marks for breaking rules with which you are not familiar. But you will be expected to learn the rules within a week. You will find a copy of the house rule book on your bedside tables tonight. Make sure you read it and learn it as soon as possible. For today, I will only tell you of two rules which sometimes come as a surprise to new boys. First, you are never to have your hands in your trouser pockets". At that point I noticed quite a few boys quickly removing their hands from their pockets. "Second, the middle buttons of your jackets must always be done up. Very well, that's enough from me, other than to say that I really mean it when I say you can discuss any problems you may have with me. You can knock on my study door at any time."
After that brief address, we all set off for the car park. It looked as though our parents were being as regimented as we were. All were standing dutifully by their cars waiting for us to come. Davies released us, with the order that we only had two minutes to say goodbye, and off we set. Actually, though two minutes does not sound long, I found it difficult to fill the time. My parents and I had a rather stilted conversation. I shook my father's hand and, rather self consciously, gave my mother a peck on the cheek and then returned to the custody of Davies. Then the tour began. I will not bore you with a detailed description of the layout of the place. The two rooms which were of greatest interest to us were our dormitory and our studies. All thirty new boys were to sleep in the same dormitory. It was a tall, long room with windows along both sides. It was a cool evening and it was immediately apparent that there was no heating in the room. I guessed that it was going to be pretty uncomfortable, but no doubt character building, in the winter. On the right hand side, just by the door, there was a cubicle which contained the dormitory prefect's bed. There was no privacy for the rest of us however.
I found that I was sharing a study with Rowntree and Lemming. Although I had only just met the latter, I had formed a good impression of him and I was pleased with the arrangement. Our study had three desks, three easy chairs, three hard chairs by the desks, one table and three cupboards. Our tuck boxes had already arrived and been put in the room. We settled down on the easy chairs and continued our earlier conversation. After another half an hour the bell rang and we set off for the dining room. I had, of course, seen other boys around the place on our earlier tour, but it was quite a sight to see all 150 boys together in the dining room. Some of them looked enormous. I was conscious that we, as the new boys, were being watched closely and it felt rather strange to be the centre of such attention. Our long table had been pointed out to us earlier and we took our places beside the benches (we all knew that there would be grace before we could sit down). When all the boys were in place, the house prefects, led by Davies, walked in together to their own table. Finally, they were joined by Mr Rolands and the three masters who were our house tutors. Davies then hammered a gavel on the table in front of him and began to intone the Latin grace. When he finished there was a loud scraping of benches on floor as one hundred and fifty boys sat down. There was an immediate buzz of conversation from all directions.
Once we had finished the meal, which I recall as being pretty averagely inedible, the gavel was struck on the top table again and all were silent. Mr Rolands rose and, for the first time, we new boys heard his deep melodious voice. As we were all to discover soon enough, he was not one to go in for long speeches. His words now were few.
"I would just like to welcome our new third formers", he began. I should interpose that for some unfathomable reason first year boys were actually in the third form. "I hope they will have a rewarding career here at Towcester. Each third form study has been allocated one fourth form boy as mentor. Immediately we leave here I would like the third formers to return to their studies and their mentors to join them. Stand for grace."
Grace over, the masters, then the prefects, then the Upper Sixth boys, then the Lower Sixth and so on filed out of the dining room. We, of course, were the last to leave. Rowntree, Lemming and I went straight to our study. After about five minutes the door opened to reveal our mentor. Although a year older than us, he was about the same height. He had fair hair and blue eyes. I judged, from his slim, athletic build that he was probably something of a sportsman. He had an easy smile with a delightful twinkle in his eyes. He came in, shut the door and pulled out one of the hard chairs. I immediately offered him my easy chair, but he waved me down again saying he was quite happy with the hard chair.
"Right", he started in a matter of fact tone, "my name's Turner. I'm your mentor for this term. So who's who?"
We introduced ourselves and he continued.
"OK, the general idea is that I tell you all about our strange ways here and you ask me any questions you want. So let's start at the top. The head of house is Davies. You've met him already I expect."
"Actually Turner", I interrupted, "Rowntree and me know him anyway cos he was a prefect at our prep school in our first year there."
"Ah, so you're Manor boys are you? That's good, there are quite a few here and they tend to be good sorts. OK, well Davies is top man. Of course Roly Poly is housemaster, but its the prefects who really run the place. So you keep on the right side of them. Davies is a decent bloke but we''l have to see what he's like as head of house. He wasn't even a prefect last term so we don't know quite what to expect. You lads get an easy time for most of this term. You don't start as fags till next term and the prefects won't be too hard on you till you're settled in."
Before I continue with Turner's talk I perhaps ought to explain what a fag is for my American readers. I believe that the word "fag" in American has a wholly different meaning from its English meaning. It was normal, in the days when I was a boy, for junior boys in public schools to have to perform various menial tasks for senior boys. This was known as "fagging" and the boys who did the work were known as "fags". The word has no _s_e_x_ual connotations at all. In many schools prefects and other senior boys had their own fags. At Towcester, as will become clear in a moment, that was not the case.
"From the beginning of next term all third form boys will be fags. Only prefects can give you fagging duties. You only have to fag on the days when your names are on the daily fag rota. There are ten duty fags every day. You'll soon pick up what happens. This term we fourth formers continue with fagging. So you just have to see what we do. It's quite simple really. Any prefect can open his study door and shout out 'fag'. When that happens the boy at the top of the daily rota has to go to Prefects' Corridor straight away and he's given whatever his job is. It might be going to the school shop to get something the prefect wants or making tea and toasting crumpets or something like that. Then when another prefect shouts 'fag' the next boy on the list goes and so on. They can only get you to fag for half an hour after breakfast, at break and between games and supper in the afternoons and evenings. The only difficult part of it is making sure you know your place in the list. If its your turn and you don't go to Prefects' Corridor when you're called you get an automatic black mark. Anyway, you don't have to worry about all that yet. Has Davies already told you about black marks?"
"Yes", Lemming said, "he said if we get three then Mr Rolands will probably get him to cane us. Is that right?"
"Not 'probably', certainly. We always get swished for three black marks. 'Course, we don't know yet what Davies'll be like as a swisher, but most bets are on him being really hard. I spose you've all been swished at your preppers have you?"
"Quite a bit in Lineham's and my cases" said Rowntree.
"I thought so, Manor's got a bit of a reputation as a swishing school. What about you Lemming?"
"Only twice I'm afraid, but I got the slipper quite a bit".
"OK, well it's good you know what getting swished is like. 'Fraid it'll be a lot harder here. You'll get it from Davies for house offences and from Hill, he's head boy, for school offences. Hill's doing an extra term before going to Oxford. He was head of School House last year. He swished me three times and he's bloody hard. I'd better explain the system a bit more. There are two Black Books you have to worry about. The house one and the school one. Only School House prefects can give you house black marks and when you get three of them you get swished by Davies. Any prefect can give you a school black mark if you do something wrong in the school rather than the house. So if you get three school black marks you get swished by Hill. All that make sense?"
"I spose so", I said, "but what happens if say you get two house black marks and one school black marks? Does that count as three?"
"No, you only get swished when you've got three in one book. For most minor offences you just get one black mark. So having your hands in your trouser pockets, for instance, will get you one. Same for talking or running in Prefects' Corridor. If you do something a bit worse like having a bit of a rag in dorm you'll probably get two. Obviously, if you do something really bad like smoking you'll get three straight off. Usual rule for third formers is they get three strokes for three black marks and four for four black marks. But if you've already been swished that term and you get three black marks again you'll usually get four. Most we ever get is six. You'd probably get six for smoking for instance even if you only had those three black marks. It probably seems a bit complicated to you now, but it all makes sense quite quickly. It's not too bad really. There's no telling off really, unless you've done something really bad when you have to see Roly Poly first. Usually, all that happens is that a prefect comes to get you during prep and you go to the gym and Davies asks you if you agree you've got three black marks and you say yes and then he just gets on and swishes you. If you're getting swished by Hill your name'll be on the school punishments notice board and it'll say when you've got to go to the gym for your swishing. Do you think you understand?"
We all nodded, perhaps a little uncertainly, but we reckoned we'd just about got the hang of it.
"Good, now there's just loads of rules about places you're allowed and not allowed and all that sort of thing. It'd take me for ever to tell you all about them. But it's all in your rule books. Best advice I can give is to read them as soon as possible and try to remember it all. So that's prefects. Then there's masters. 'Course they can all swish you as well if they want to, but they don't do it much. Once in a while Roly Poly has a crack down on something like talking after lights out. You know, he'll go snooping round and if he catches you he'll probably give you a swishing. But he only does that about once a term. Most masters will swish for something like cheating in class, but usually they just give detentions for things like not finishing prep and so on. Mr Scott", he was the headmaster, "only really swishes Lower Sixth formers, and then only for ultra major offences. Most of the time he just leaves it to Hill. The only other masters you've got to watch out for are the gym masters. They're Mr Hurst and Mr Staines. They usually have a cane with them for gym lessons, but they're not actually too bad. Usually only give two or three and not as hard as Hill or, probably, Davies. Any questions so far?"
We all shook our heads.
"Right, next thing is games. Are you keen on rugby?"
We nodded vigorously.
"Excellent. School House won all the house rugby competitions last year. That's under 14s, under 15s, colts, Second XV and First XV. We really want to do that again so they're starting trials for you lot, that's the under 14s, tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to enter?"
"You bet", I exclaimed and the others immediately echoed.
"Great. One of the best ways to get on here is to be good at games. So I suggest you do your best. We're lucky cos Davies is captain of school rugby as well as head of house so we know we've got real support at the top. 'Course it means as well that he's mega fit and strong which isn't so good for our bums, but it's much better than having some swat who never plays games as your head of house."
Such was our introduction to Towcester and School House. Naturally, the part which interested us most was that concerned with discipline and punishment. We agreed, after Turner had left us, that it didn't sound as bad as we had feared. After all, we reasoned, if all we had to do was to avoid putting our hands in our pockets and undoing our middle jacket buttons (which seemed to be the offences most on everyone's minds), we should be able to keep our names out of the Black Book. But that was before we read the rule book!
We had half an hour reading time in bed before lights out. We all used the time to look in the rule books we had been given. They started off sensibly and predictably enough, warning of severe penalties for smoking and drinking. There were then passages about not being allowed in the town at certain times of the day, which seemed to make sense. It was a few pages into the book that things started to look more complicated. First there was the out of bounds section. It seemed that there were all sorts of parts of the school grounds which were out of bounds to some boys but not others. The Prefects' Lawn was easy enough to cope with. As its name suggested, only prefects were allowed to walk on it (although where it was did not seem to be mentioned). Then there were Senior School Path, Middle School Path and Junior School Path. We, it seemed, would be allowed to use the last, but neither of the other two. Fourth and fifth form boys could use Junior School Path or Middle School Path, whichever took their fancy. Lower and upper sixth form boys could use any of the paths. Again, there was no description of where they were. As for the Masters' Corridor, that seemed a most complicated place. There was a whole page devoted to the times when various forms could walk down that corridor and the purposes for which the walk could be taken. I leafed on through the book until I got to the part on dress codes. Sure enough, it started with the ban on hands in pockets and undone jacket buttons. But that was not all. On Sunday afternoons and evenings, it seemed, we would be allowed to wear "mufti". But that didn't mean any old clothes we might choose. Oh no. There was a long list of proscribed clothes (jeans, shirts without ties, short sleeved shirts - unless hot weather dress code was in place - flared trousers, jackets other than approved tweed jackets, kipper ties and so on). Then there was a list of approved clothes to be worn for out of hours sports such as tennis (white shirt, white shorts with! out underpants, white socks and white gym shoes) or Fives (dark shirt, dark shorts without underpants, white socks and white gym shoes). There were stern warnings about being seen with shirts hanging out of trousers or shoes which were not perfectly clean and shiny. Only indoor (slip on) shoes could be worn inside and only outdoor (lace ups) could be worn outside. Except that outdoor shoes could be worn in class rooms away from the main block. This was the time of the Beatles (a 1960s popular singing group). They had what was then thought to be long hair (touching collars). The school was determined that no boy should try to emulate the Beatles. A barber visited School House every Tuesday evening. It was the responsibility of boys to ensure that their hair never touched their collars or was too long at the front. Spot checks would be made and black marks awarded to offenders (in addition to requiring them to attend on the barber on the next Tuesday evening). When in town, boys below lower sixth had always to wear their caps. Lower and upper sixth form boys would wear boaters. Any boy passing a master, a master's wife or a matron in the street must raise his cap or boater in salute. I leafed back to the section on where, outside the school grounds, we were permitted to go. Generally speaking, at the right times, we were allowed the run of the town. But there were three cafes which were out of bounds. Obviously, all pubs were out of bounds (although there actually was a sixth form bar were boys of 16 and over were permitted to buy half a pint of bitter every evening). The south side of the river (the side on which the girls' school was situated) was wholly out of bounds.
I could go on an on, but will not bore my readers by doing so. I hope I have given a sufficient picture of the complexity of the rules which were to govern my life for the next five years. I am amazed at how much I can now remember. On that first evening, however, I just could not imagine how I would ever learn even a half of what I had to. My earlier optimism about being able to escape punishment began to wane.
The next phase of our introduction to the House was a private interview with Davies. Each of us in turn had five minutes of the great boy's time. My session was on my second day. At the appointed hour I presented myself outside his study. I knew that another new boy was in with him, so I waited for him to come out. Davies called me in as he did. The study was enormous. It was very comfortably furnished with a sofa and two armchairs. There was a coffee table and a larger dining table with six chairs around it. There was an imposing desk under a large window looking out on to the playing fields. I marvelled as I gazed on all this luxury. As I closed the door behind me my attention was immediately caught by the hooks on the back of the door from which were hanging three frightening looking canes. I quickly averted my eyes and sat in the proffered armchair.
"Well Lineham", Davies began, "I'm delighted you're in School House. I remember you well from Manor. Unless you've changed a lot, you should be an asset to the House. Are you still keen on games?"
"Certainly am Davies. I was captain of the First XI last term and Captain of the First XV before that. But I'm sure there are lots of boys who are much better than me here", I quickly added unless he thought I was bragging.
"Well, I hope you fulfill your early promise. There's plenty of scope for a sporty lad here. Now for the main purpose of our meeting. As I said yesterday, I want you to look on me as a friend and guide. I'm sure there'll be times when I have to come down on you fairly hard, if you're as high spirited as you were at Manor, but I hope you'll take that in the way it's meant. When", I noticed he didn't say "if", "I have to punish you it'll be for your own good and the good of the House. So no hard feelings. OK?"
"Of course not Davies. I hope I'm not the sort to whinge about a swishing."
"I'm sure you're not. We've all been through it, and I have little doubt you'll emerge at the other end as a tribute to School House. Anyway, I've enjoyed our chat. You know where I am. Come and see me if you have any problems, not that I expect you will. Off you go now."
That afternoon the House rugby trials were held. Although I say it myself, I did pretty well. In any event, I was selected for the under 14s House team and Davies said he would also put me in the school under 14s training squad. Lemming and Rowntree also got into the House team.
On the following day we all had to register for the CCF (Combined Cadet Force). There were sections for navy, army and air force, but all new boys had to do one year in the army first. We were issued with our uniforms (thick and itchy battle dress from the era of the Second World Ward) and it was impressed on us that we had to keep our shoes and belt buckles as shiny as mirrors. It seemed that there was a whole new hierarchy in the CCF. My platoon was under the command of a lower sixth form boy called Peters, who was a corporal. He could punish us by giving us press ups, extra drill or runs in full kit. But, as he warned us, he could also send us to the Sergeant, who happened to be a prefect and who would be able to give us school black marks.
Every day, it seemed, there was a mass more information to be digested. And, at the same time, we had to do our lessons and prep. But somehow we all managed to keep abreast. Fortunately, the prefects did go easy on us for the first few weeks. More than once I found myself inadvertently breaking some minor rule and being warned, but not punished, for doing so. But I couldn't help noticing that boys in the fourth and fifth forms were not being given the same treatment. It was only two weeks into term when Turner, on one of his regular visits to our study, revealed that he had managed to amass three house black marks.
"So I'll be able to tell you what Davies is like as a swisher", he said. "Tell you what, would you like me to come here and show you the stripes after prep?"
We, of course, agreed. Putting aside my own slightly esoteric interest in these things, I, like the others, was eager to see how bad a Towcester swishing would be. But, in addition, I did rather admire Turner's physique and I guessed I would not be unmoved by seeing his striped bottom. We wished him good luck and hoped it would not be too bad.
During prep that evening I found it difficult to concentrate on my work. I was listening, in the hope of hearing our mentor being summoned from the next door room and walking down the corridor, past our classroom, to the gym. I can't have been the only one who was listening. When I heard the sound of footsteps outside, several of my peers also looked up. I held my breath as I imagined the summons being given. Then, sure enough, I heard two sets of footsteps heading in the direction of the gym. I tried to picture the scene as Turner and some unidentified prefect arrived and walked in to see Davies, armed with his cane, waiting for them. I thought of Turner handing his jacket to the witnessing prefect and walking to the two white marks in the middle of the gym floor (we, of course, knew all these details from conversations with older boys). I pictured him slowly bending over and clutching his ankles, his slim buttocks protected only by tight thin grey trousers and underpants. No one knew yet whether Davies would stand still when caning or would have a run up. I imagined a run up. Then, in some sort of fellow feeling I suppose, I shut my eyes as I thought of the cane whistling through the air and crashing into Turner's bottom. I didn't know how many strokes he would be getting, but the general view was that he would probably get four. Anyway, that's what I imagined. Four times in succession I thought of Davies, with cane behind his shoulder, running three or four paces towards Turner's waiting bottom and swinging the weapon with all his might as he reached the target. With each imagined blow, I shut my eyes at the moment of connection. I could almost share the victim's agony as his pain increased. I could picture him telling himself that he would not clutch his bottom at the end, but then being unable to avoid doing so. I thought of him thanking Davies, taking his jacket from the other prefect and hobbling out of the gym. Then I waited and listened and, a few moments later I heard the t! wo sets of footsteps returning down the corridor (the witnessing prefect always escorted the victim back to his prep room).
I didn't get much prep done that evening. My picturing of Turner's caning had aroused me somewhat and I could do little more than long for the bell to ring so I could head for our study to see my first Towcester stripes. The consequence was a detention for failure to finish my history prep, but that was a price worth paying. Finally, the bell went and Lemming, Rowntree and I dashed for our study.
Turner, immensely kindly as it seemed to us, came straight to us. It would have been entirely reasonable for him to have delayed. After all, he hadn't even seen the damage himself yet. But it was only a minute or two after getting to the study that we were joined by him. He gave us a wide grin as he shut the door.
"Well, I'm glad that's over", he said, giving his bottom a gentle stroke. "The hot news is that Davies is an ace swisher. It was bloody agony. Come on, let's see what he's done."
He undid his trousers and pulled them down to his knees. Then, as he eased his underpants down, he spoke again.
"Bloody hell, they're sticking to my bum. That's a bad sign."
We jostled each as we pressed forward to look. The four weals were the most vivid I had ever seen. It wasn't necessary to touch them to see that they were raised. We didn't think that blood had actually been drawn, but it was a very close thing. Turner gently felt his wounds with the tips of his fingers. Then pronounced himself satisfied.
"No, no blood, just a bit sort of sticky."
Then, far too soon I thought, he pulled his pants and trousers up again. I put a soft cushion on one of the easy chairs and gestured for him to sit on it. He did so, and then gave us a graphic account of the earlier proceedings.
The witnessing prefect had been Saunders, a very well-liked boy who was popular with everyone. He had done his best to keep Turner's spirits up on the walk to the gym by pointing out that the boy would be in great demand for accounts of Davies's ability with the cane. Even he, he had said, would be interested to see how the head of house performed. Davies, he confided, had been practising on a cushion in his study. He had been trying it with and without a run up, but Saunders didn't know which he had finally decided on. When they had got to the gym they had gone in to see that Davies was wearing his rugby kit.
"That didn't make me feel any better", Turner said, "you don't really want to see all those bulging muscles just before a swishing."
He was about to describe the caning itself, but we begged him, even though we now knew the form very well, to tell us every detail of what happened in the gym.
"OK, well Davies was holding the cane in his right hand and sort of swishing it backwards and forwards in the air. When I got in he asked me if I agreed I had three black marks so I said yes. Then he said 'let's get on with it', so I took my jacket off and gave it to Saunders. He was nice. He gave me a wink and mouthed 'good luck' to me. Then I went to the white marks and I bent over. I looked through my legs and I saw Davies walking slowly up to me. The cane was in his left hand then. So next he felt my bum with his right had."
"Is he queer or something?". That was Lemming.
"Bloody hell no. They always do that. Seems that once there was a boy who padded up for a swishing, so now they always feel your bum to make sure you haven't padded. Apparently, if you can't feel the warmth of the flesh that means that the boy's got more than just trousers and pants on."
Schoolboys are extraordinary creatures. All three of us were shocked to the core by the news that a boy at our school had actually been so cowardly as to pad his bottom before a swishing. That, we all agreed, was the action of a complete bounder and cad.
Turner continued his account.
"Well, then he changed the cane back to his right hand and sort of tapped it on my bum to measure up where he wanted it to land. Then he took four big steps back and turned round to face me again. Then I watched him lift the cane behind his shoulder and he sort of sprung forward. I think he did the run up in three paces, but I'm not sure cos that's when I shut my eyes. So the first one landed and I knew immediately that he was ace. It really hurt incredibly. I opened my eyes again and he was doing his pacing back, but really slowly. I spose to make the pain sink in before the next one, which it certainly did. I kept my eyes open for the second and he did do a three pace run. Wow it hurt. Same happened for number three and number four. I'd been hoping I might get only three, but I expected four so it wasn't too much of a shock. After the fourth he kept me bending for a bit and then said to get up. So I did. With some prefects you wouldn't want to show much their swishing had hurt. I mean if I was in Tyndale House for instance, there's no way I'd grab my bum after a swishing from Constable. He's such a _s_h_i_t_" (this was the first time I had heard a boy use that word). "But Davies is different. He's great. So I didn't mind showing him that it had hurt like hell and I really rubbed my bum with both hands. Then I thanked him and he said 'fine, hope the pain eases soon' and I got my jacket from Saunders and we walked back to the prep room."
Saunders had continued to chat to Turner on the return walk. He had said that, as far as he could tell, the caning had been the work of a real expert. Turner had agreed.
"You'd better warn the rest of the House", Saunders had said, "don't want anyone thinking Davies isn't a star swisher".
The three of us hung on every word. When Turner left, presumably to show off his wounds to boys in his own year, we all agreed that he was one of the best fourth formers in the House. We didn't think many others would have favoured third formers in the way he had just done. It seemed to us an enormous privilege to have seen the first Davies stripes ever.
As for me, well, I am afraid it all had a familiar effect. I could feel a bulge developing. I dreaded my friends working out what was happening to me. But I guessed they would. So, in desperation, I changed the subject and asked Lemming if I could look at his pictures again. Right at the bottom of his tuck box he had three pictures, cut out from a magazine (probably Playboy) of naked girls. We all used to gaze longingly at them in turn, usually before going up to the dormitory at bed time. Although we were by now very used to them, they always had the desired effect on us. By now, my feelings of guilt had greatly reduced. Certainly, during those first two weeks at Towcester, it had become clear to me that my night time activities were far from being unusual for boys of my age. Squeaking bed springs were the norm in our dormitory. So my concern was not that my friends would be at all shocked by spotting my state of arousal: it was that they would realise that it had come about as a result of seeing Turner's striped bottom. Fortunately, I was also aroused by thoughts and images of girls, and both Lemming and Rowntree knew that perfectly well. Luckily, I was able to disguise what was happening to me until the pictures were on my lap. By then, there was no need to conceal the fact that I had "made it happen".
When the lights went out that night I lay back thinking of the evening's events and the stiffness I had felt earlier, which I had finally subdued by contemplating the history master's likely reaction to my unfinished prep, quickly returned. I shifted to a more comfortable position. Then I heard Lemming, from the next bed, whisper to me.
"Hey, Lineham, are you going to have a wank tonight?"
"I reckon so" I whispered back.
"OK, me too, have a good one".
It certainly was. I remember wondering whether Lemming would also be thinking of Turner's swishing. It would be so wonderful if he was. It would mean I wasn't as peculiar as I feared. But I never dared to ask him. Our bed springs started their familiar squeaking. I closed my eyes and pictured Turner's bottom again. I recalled, word for word, his magnificent description of his caning. When the climax came it was better than I had ever experienced. Just before I drifted off to sleep I thought to myself that I might be peculiar, but I was also exceptionally fortunate to have this interest in punishment: it was a very real consolation to a boy who knew that he would not be able to avoid the cane much longer.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I hope that this story has set the scene for the ones which will follow. I apologise if there was not enough action in it, but it is not easy to portray things as they actually were without providing a fair amount of detail. But stay with me and I hope that you will enjoy the future instalments more. The next one, which starts when I had two black marks and two whole weeks to run before the first one expired, should be of some interest. It will be titled ""Will I Get Another One?".