Ian Dornan picked up the phone.
"Hello."
"Mr Dornan," said a voice.
"Yes." Ian didnt want to give anything away.
"This is the police. Weve picked up your two lads with another boy. Theyd climbed on to a roof down on the industrial estate and were trying to force a window open when we caught them."
"I see." He thought: the little bastards!
"Im afraid Im going to have to ask you to come down to the station, Mr Dornan. Theyre in a cell at the moment but we cant leave them there much longer. Will you be able to come down?"
"Itll take me a while. Ive got no transport. I shall have to walk."
"Thats all right, Mr Dornan. They wont hurt for half an hour. Id send a car for you but we havent got one free."
It was a full hour before Ian could get to the small police station that served the area. He hoped that Geoff Laing, who lived on the Fern Park estate and who had a boy of his own, would be the man on duty. The idea was growing in Ians mind that if it was Geoff he had to deal with he could negotiate a beating for the twins instead of the court appearance and fine. He was determined that they were getting a beating anyway, but maybe he could save them from a criminal record.
But it wasnt Geoff. Sergeant Horniman was huge: well over six feet tall and with massive shoulders and belly on him.
"You took your time, mate," he started. "Never mind. Youre here now. We can start interviewing the lads if youre ready."
"Just a minute," said Ian. "Has Geoff Laing told you about what were doing on Fern Park with our lads?"
"Yes, he has. _f_u_c_k_ing good job too. Its about time someone took a hand with those boys youve got down there."
"How would it be if I took em home and whipped their arses for em? And you could forget all about it."
Horniman looked down at him. "I think thatd be a bloody good idea. Unfortunately, theres this other monkey. And he doesnt live on Fern Park."
"Who is he? Is his dad here?"
"Kid called Michael Skinner. Just his mother." Ian saw his chances of getting the twins out of a court appearance disappearing. "And thats not the worst of it. Hes got a record. Thisll be his fourth appearance in court."
"Oh _f_u_c_k_! You mean this lad gets mine in trouble and then I cant deal with it right. Theres got to be some way out of this."
"Sorry. Hes likely to go down this time. He was put on a warning that itll be youth detention next time hes up to the beak."
"Whats his mother say?"
"Nothing. She just cries."
"Lead on then," said Ian. "Lets get it over with."
The twins were interviewed together. They readily admitted what theyd done and rejected any suggestion that it had been Michael Skinner who led them into crime. Along with old-fashioned punishments came, it seemed, and old-fashioned sense of honour.
Then they were put back in the cell and Ian sat in the corridor while Michael was interviewed with his mother. It was longer than the twins interview and Ian guessed that young Skinner was being less cooperative than Jack and Phil. At last he was marched back to the cells and Mrs Skinner emerged sniffling into her handkerchief.
"All right?" said Ian.
"No," said the woman. "Little sod! I wish Id never had him. The bane of my life hes been. Always in trouble. I cant control him. You should see the temper on him. Well, theyll knock that out of him where – " But she couldnt finish and her handkerchief was up to her eyes again.
"You dont want him to go away, do you?"
"Course I bloody dont. I want him to do as hes told and not go out terrorising the neighbourhood. But thats not going to happen. Not without a husband to bang some sense into him. I cant do a thing with him."
"Listen. How would you feel about him getting a bloody good hiding instead of the law dealing with him?"
"How dyou mean? Let the pigs beat him up?"
"No." Ian explained to her the new regime on the Fern Park estate and what a difference it had made to the boys down there. He told her how he had used a plimsoll on Jack and Phils bottoms, but how he was going to get a cane for them after this. "I think itd make a big difference to your boy too. And I even bet hed prefer it to what the law will do."
"Dyou think itll work?"
"Well, having him up in front of the beak hasnt cured him, has it?"
They found the sergeant at his desk beginning to fill out the first of the forms he had to complete before the boys could be charged.
"Remember that conversation we had earlier – about me giving my lads a good hiding – well, Mrs Skinner here thinks thatd be a good plan for her Michael too."
The sergeant looked up at them.
"And then you wouldnt have all this paperwork to do."
He thought for a long while. "Sorry. Cant be done. Weve got the interview tapes and the arrest records."
"You could lose them, couldnt you?"
"Maybe." A light was slowly going on in Sergeant Horniman. Maybe this would work after all. "Mrs S. Youre happy for your lad to get a dose of the stick across his backside rather than go up to the beak?"
"Yes, please."
"Right. Lets get them out here."
Back in the interview room – no tape switched on – the three boys stood facing the three adults. "You three are in deep _s_h_i_t_," the sergeant started. "Michael. Ive lost count of the times Ive had you in here, and you know whats going to happen this time." Michael shrugged his shoulders. "The magistrate made it quite clear that if you were up to her again, shed send you to a young offenders place. Is that what you want?"
"No." It was almost grunted, but his head was down.
"And you two. You knew it was wrong to climb on that roof and try to get in. You know youve got to be punished, dont you?"
"Yes, sir," they said together.
"Well, you will be. But its your lucky day, the three of you. You can choose your punishment." Michaels head lifted for the first time.
"You can be charged with breaking and entering and be up in court next week. Michael will go to a young offenders institution, and you two will get a fine, which your father will have to pay. And he tells me that if that happens youll be getting a hiding tonight and another after youve been to court.
"Alternatively, you can have it dealt with today. If you choose that youll get a bloody good hiding across your arses and well say no more about it. Jack and Phil, you know what that means. Michael, for you it means that youll go with Mr Dornan here and get a number of whacks across your arse with a cane. Now which is it to be?"
"The cane," said the twins together, their eyes lighting up at the thought that they could escape going to court.
Michael looked more doubtful. No-one had ever whacked him before, or even threatened to. "Whats it like, the cane?" he asked the twins.
"It hurts," said Jack. "But its over quick. And then you wont have to go away."
"All right then. Ill have that."
"And youre happy to leave Michael to me and Mr Dornan here?" Horniman said to Mrs Skinner.
"Im just thankful youre letting me keep him," she said.
"OK, you go on home then. Ill bring Michael back to you after hes had his medicine."
Mrs Skinner made her escape from the police station while the sergeant and Ian put the boys into a cell while they made their plans.
"Whats it like, getting the cane?" Michael asked.
"We havent had it," said Phil.
"Dads only used a plimsoll on us so far, but I guess itll be the cane today."
"How does he do it?"
"You have to get undressed –" Jack began.
"What? Its on your bare arse?"
"Course. We told you after the meeting. About Jim Bolan getting it. And since then Mortimers had it several times. And Spraxton and Davidstow both got it with their pants down. Loads of us have."
"And you just bend over and let him do it?"
"Of course," said Jack. "You dont want to, but you just have to."
"How much does it hurt?"
"_f_u_c_k_ing terrible. Thats the whole point," said Phil.
"But then," Jack cut in, "its over in a couple of minutes and thats better than being grounded for a week or something."
"But it must hurt for longer than that."
"Well, obviously. But about half an hour after youve just got this really hot glow in your bum. And the other thing is, weve got this boys club thing now, and that is the best thing. We get to do so much with the men all helping us."
"But I cant come to that, can I?"
"Not at the moment, but I dont see why. Specially if youve had the cane," said Phil.
Michael was still deeply anxious. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the idea that he would take all his clothes off and then bend over so that a man could whip him, deliberately hurt him. He had seen the marks on the Fern Park boys bottoms while they were changing for PE, and he was far from convinced that this was what he wanted. It sounded so extreme and terrifying to offer up a really tender part of your body for such a painful punishment, let alone the horror of exposing private bits of your anatomy for unknown men to see.
On the other hand, the Fern Park boys seemed no worse for the experience. Even Luke Mortimer, who had been caned four or five times, at least three of them on his bare bottom, carried on as normal, except that he wasnt in trouble quite as often as before. And Michael was no coward. On the rugby field he was fearless going into the tackle, and last winter he had broken his arm and, even though the ambulance took nearly an hour to get to him, not a single tear had he shed.
Sergeant Horniman opened the cell door, seeming to fill it. "Up you get then, lads. Heres what were going to do. Im going to drive you and your dad down to your house. Then, with his help, Im going to be giving you the cane. Itll be on your bare backsides. Jack and Phil – youre going to get six. Michael – for you itll be eight. Any questions?"
The boys had gone white. This was altogether different from their dad giving them the plimsoll. The police sergeant was an appalling figure. And even the Dornan twins were terrified by the thought of him behind them with a cane. But by now they had gone too far to go back. The moment when they could have chosen a different path was long past.
They sat silently in the back of the police car, their hands clamped between their thighs, their heads full of nothing but the pain that was waiting for them at home. The sergeant stopped the car outside Albert Roper house. Ian Dornan went in, leaving the boys alone with the policeman. He turned round and leered at them over the back of his seat.
"Are you looking forward to this, lads?"
"No," said Michael sullenly.
"Oh I am. Im going to enjoy every single whack across your tender little bums. Im going to make you squeal and no mistake."
Just then Ian appeared carrying the cane. He got into the car and stood it between his knees. It was only a short distance to the Dornans house, and in no time at all the three boys were inside, standing awkwardly in the hallway.
In the kitchen, Ian explained the situation to his wife. She shed a bit of a tear but agreed that she would go round to Beryl Greys house with the twins sister till it was all over.
"Dont worry, love," said Horniman. "I wont be too hard on em."
Joanne Dornan said nothing but her look showed the policeman exactly what she thought of him.
"Now, where do you do it?" the sergeant asked when they had the house to themselves.
"Up in their bedrooms so far, but theres not much room up there. You could do it in here. Bend em over the back of the armchair there."
"Good idea. You send em upstairs to get undressed. Then well have em down one at a time."
Up in the twins bedroom the three boys kicked off their trainers, tugged their socks off, then peeled off their tee-shirts and jeans. Simultaneously, Jack and Phil pushed their boxer shorts down over their bottoms and stepped out of them. Michael hesitated a moment, then he too peeled down his pants and was naked.
The boys had seen each other with nothing on a few times at the swimming pool, but not recently. Michael was a solid customer. His puppy fat was almost gone and his torso now tapered from his broad shoulders and deepening chest. Above his prick, the newly acquired pubic hair was more impressive than anything the twins had to show. They were slimmer, but with clear, wiry muscles in their arms and legs.
"Does he hold you down for it?" Michael asked, his anxiety surfacing once more.
"He hasnt done up to now, but it may be different for the cane," explained Phil.
"Oh _s_h_i_t_! I dont want to do this," Michael wailed.
"Shut up," said Jack sharply. "You agreed. If you go back on it now, well all have to go to court, and us twoll get the cane anyway."
"Its going to hurt so much." He was holding his buttocks with both hands as though he could protect them from the pain that was coming.
"Youve just got to try and be brave. We never yelled when dad whacked us, even if it did sting. And youve got to try not to yell."
"Yes," agreed Jack. "Thats the best thing."
"What? Let him whip my bare bum and not _f_u_c_k_ing yell? Yeah – right!"
Just at that moment the door opened, and there was Ian, looking pale himself, but determined. "Jack. Come downstairs," he said.
Jack left the bedroom without a word. Michael and his brother wanted to wish him good luck, but no words would issue from their mouths. Ian closed the door, leaving the two boys alone.
"What if he makes our bums bleed?" Michael asked, almost pleading now.
"Its not that bad. Anyway its not the end of the world if you bleed a bit. No worse than cutting your finger."
"Its a hell of a lot worse. Itll _f_u_c_k_ing hurt for one thing."
"Oh shut up, Mike. Dont be such a _f_u_c_k_ing baby. He cant kill you, for _f_u_c_k_s sake."
"Its all right for you. You know what its like."
"You werent this _f_u_c_k_ing pathetic when you persuaded us to climb up on the roof."
Michael sat down on the bed. His hands were clutched over his genitals. He took several deep breaths.
"Yes, youre right," he said. "If bloody Mortimer can stand it, Im _d_a_m_n_ sure I can."
Just then they heard the first crack of the cane against Jacks backside. Through two closed doors and from downstairs it seemed impossibly loud. Michael jumped.
"Is that it?"
"Yes."
"_f_u_c_k_ing hell!" Crack! came the second and Michael jumped again. "What dyou have to do?"
"What dyou mean, you dipstick?"
"Do you have to bend over something?"
Crack! the third.
"When dad whacked us he made us bend over the ends of our beds in here."
"In here?" Phil nodded. "Show me."
"_f_u_c_k_ off!"
Crack! the cane connected again with Jacks bottom, but they couldnt hear any sound from him.
"How manys that?"
"Four."
They listened in silence as the last two strokes were given, and still there was no sound from Jack. Maybe it wouldnt be so bad after all, Michael thought. There was silence from downstairs. What was happening? Jack had had his beating. Phil and Michael waited, scarcely daring to breathe.
At last, footsteps coming up the stairs, across the landing and then – nothing.
"Whats happening?" Michael whispered.
But before Phil could say anything the door opened and there was Ian Dornan again. There was a look on his face that the two boys couldnt read. "Come on, Phil," he said, and the second twin went out to be caned, leaving Michael alone to worry.
His father made Phil lead the way downstairs and into the front room. Sergeant Horniman was standing in front of the TV, flexing the cane between his huge fists. It was bent almost into a semi-circle so Phil could see how whippy it was and guess how much it was going to hurt. In the middle of the room one of the armchairs had been turned round. Without a word Ian led his son to it and Phil bent over it.
It felt strange and horrible to offer himself up like this to an unknown man who was going to lash his naked bottom. The air was cool on his skin, but he knew that that wouldnt last. His fathers hands on his shoulders pushed him into a tighter bending position, holding him there, but also giving a degree of reassurance. Then he felt the cane against his bottom, moving up and down a little, stroking him, telling him where the pain would be.
The first stroke was a shock. The sudden stinging pain cut into him. His body jerked with the surprise of it, and the line of pain across his skin. The second made it worse. But then the realisation hit him. He wasnt yelling with this pain. It was hot and horrible, like a wire being pressed into his flesh, but it wasnt more than he could bear. He would get through this.
Steadily the strokes sliced into him. Each one made it a bit worse. Maybe the next stroke would be the one that he couldnt bear. But he did bear it. His father didnt have to hold him still; he could do it for himself. And then his dad let him go and he could stand up. His bum was stinging like mad, and a glance at Sergeant Hornimans face told him that the policeman thought he had delivered a bloody good hiding. So he put his hands to his rear end and rubbed at the pain. His dad was smiling.
Ian guided Phil out of the room with a hand on his shoulder. Sergeant Hornimans hand went to his groin. He had the biggest erection hed had for months. Through his trousers he adjusted himself so that his _c_o_c_k_ was upright against his belly and held in place by his pants. He rubbed it a little: it was this next little bastard that he was looking forward to caning.
Ian almost had to push Michael into the room. Unlike the twins, he had no idea what being caned would be like, and his face was full of the fear of the unknown. His hands were clutched over his groin. He was a solidly built boy. When Ian guided him to the armchair and got him to bend over it properly, his bottom was meaty and round. Ian pushed his shoulders down and prepared to hold him in place. The sergeant gripped the cane and lay it against the curve of Michaels backside. Michael whimpered in the back of his throat as it touched him, but he lay still, accepting his fate.
The sergeant drew the cane back till his hand was almost level with his shoulder, held it a second, then whipped it down, quite fast. It cracked across Michaels bum and a dark pink stripe appeared almost instantly, but he made no sound. The next three were the same – the cane whipping down smartly on to the naked flesh with a sharp little crack.
Halfway through, and the cop had to adjust his erection. He did it discreetly, hoping that Ian wouldnt notice. Then he took aim again. Now he was really going to show the little sod. He stepped back half a pace, launched the cane at the target – and missed. It landed almost above Michaels bottom, near the bony triangle at the base of his spine. The sergeant was mortified: he wanted to say that that one didnt count. But theyd agreed that the boy should get eight, so he said nothing. But now he took care to aim lower, at the fleshy part that he sat on. Vaguely he remembered that it hurt more there. Three solid strokes later and the boys punishment was over. Eight red stripes across the white of his skin told the story. One wild one that went too high, but the rest hed remember when he sat down for the next few days.
Ian allowed Michael up and the boy rubbed his bottom, to show that hed been disciplined.
"I hope thatll learn you a bloody good lesson, young Skinner," the sergeant said.
"Yes, sir," said Michael, still rubbing his rear end, allowing the policeman a good view of his wedding tackle.
"Off you go then."
Ian led the chastised boy out of the room and upstairs. In the front bedroom the twins were still naked. Ian pushed Michael into the room. Both twins started to speak, but were stopped by Ians finger against his lips.
"Not a word," he whispered urgently and left the three naked boys alone.
"That wasnt half as bad as I thought," Michael started.
"Shhhh!!" the twins hushed him urgently.
"It was pathetic," hissed Phil.
"Not as bad as dads plimsoll even," said Jack and the two of them collapsed on their parents bed, giggling as silently as they could manage.
Downstairs, Ian assured the policeman that the boys had been well whipped and theyd not be climbing on roofs again in a hurry. Sergeant Horniman offered to drive Michael home to his mother but Ian said it would serve the little bugger right if he had to walk. They shook hands and the strong arm of the law got into his car and drove away.
The three boys watched him go from the upstairs window and then collapsed on the double bed, punching each others arms and wrestling. They heard Ian climbing the stairs and straightened themselves and the bed up a bit. When he appeared, their mouths dropped open and Michael felt as though a giant hand had grabbed his testicles and was squeezing. In Ians hand was the cane.
"You know youre not going to get away with that, dont you?" he said.
"Yes, dad," the twins said together.
"He might think hes given you a _f_u_c_k_ing good hiding – " Here Ian couldnt restrain himself and burst out laughing. The boys joined in. "But a few taps of the cane from him isnt going to stop you doing it again. So I reckon Ive got to do the job properly.
"Michael, Im going to put these two across my knee and give em another dose. With this –" He held up the cane. "I reckon you should get some more and all, dont you?"
Michaels voice had gone all husky, but he heard himself croak, "Yes."
"Good boy. And then tonight you can come down the club if you want."
"Yes, please."
Ian sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Jack to him. The boy allowed himself to be lowered over his fathers knees, supporting his upper body with his hands flat on the floor. His bottom was lean and perfectly placed for the whacking.
"Phil, count the whacks for me."
Ian went on applying the cane till the pink lines of the sergeants beating were obliterated by dark red weals that were starting to turn purple. Jack didnt make a sound, but it was obviously hurting because his legs kicked furiously and every slicing cut of the rattan made his head jerk upwards. When his dad allowed him up his hands clamped to his rear end, this time genuinely wanting to squeeze the pain out of his muscles.
"How many, Phil?"
"Fifteen, dad."
"Here to me, then." Phil took his brothers place over Ians lap. The stinging of the first caning had faded to a faint warmth, but then the cane sliced down into him – hard – and there was a line of fire across his backside. It seemed to last a very long time, with the burning getting worse and worse. He had to force himself to keep his hands on the floor. But just as he thought it was never going to end, his father lifted him by the shoulders and he could stand up. He couldnt help himself: he clutched at the pain with both hands.
"Michael." Ian held out his hand and guided him over his knees. The boy was heavier, his backside more solid. "Dyou think you should get the same as Jack and Phil, or more?"
"More," said Michael, surprising everyone – even himself.
Ian counted the fifteen whacks, watching as Michaels skin turned dark red then started to go purple, much quicker than the twins had done. He paused. Should he stop now? Then he thought that this was the boy who had led his two into trouble.
And he lifted the cane high and brought it whistling down. Michael murmured in the back of his throat. Four more times he did it, and then allowed the boy up.
All three stood in a line, still rubbing their backsides.
"Next time," said Ian. "Ill be caning you over the chair, not Sergeant Horniman. So be warned."
"Yes, dad," said the twins.
"Yes, Mr Dornan," said Michael.
"Call me Ian," said Ian.
Michael was the first, but not the last, boy from outside the Fern Park estate who opted for their kind of punishment. Mrs Skinner was not the last mother who, despairing of ever making their sons into decent men, turned to John Hawthorne and the other dads of Fern Park for salvation.
In an intriguing postscript, Sergeant Horniman was found dead of a heart attack in his police car less than three months later. What was not made public about this was that when he was found his trousers were undone and he was holding his prick. It was no longer erect.