Not surprisingly, the discovery of the contents of the wallet engendered a great deal of excitement amongst the children. Jo and Sandy were the first to come onto the landing in response to Timmy's and Charlie's shouts. Their immediate reaction on seeing the two naked twelve year old boys was, naturally enough, to giggle and point delightedly at those parts of the male's body which girls of their age are not supposed to see. The boys both suddenly realised the state they were in and, faces reddening, placed their hands over the offending parts. They managed to turn tail and charge back into their room to recover their underpants before being seen by Sarah and Sammy as well but, as they fled, the girl twins were given another view of their firm buttocks.
Decency restored, Timmy and Charlie returned to the landing and silenced Jo and Sandy's descriptions of their earlier appearance with shouts of "you just wait till you see what we've found" and "cut it out girls, this is big stuff".
By now, Robbie, Sammy, Sarah and Adam were all on the landing as well. Robbie took control.
"Ok boys," he said, trying to bring an air of calmness to the proceedings, "slow down and tell us about it."
The boys stopped their gabbling and took a deep breath. They looked at each other and Charlie nodded, indicating his agreement that Timmy, the finder of the wallet, should have the honour of imparting the news.
"Well earlier today I found this wallet in the woods when we were playing there. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I had a look inside in case there was any money so I'd have to take it to the police to find the owner but there wasn't. I mean, there was just a couple of scraps of paper. So I put it in my pocket and forgot about it. Well, I've just had a another look and you'll never guess what one of the pieces of paper says." He didn't pause to allow any guessing. "It's got Jo and Sandy and Sarah's names and addresses on it. I mean it must have been there for ages cos it was all covered in mud and stuff. It just has to belong to one of the crooks."
Robbie took the wallet and carefully opened it. He read the words as his mind raced furiously. He shared the twins' suspicion that this was a very important discovery but, unlike them, he realised that it could have a perfectly innocent explanation. The others watched him, waiting for him to pronounce. Eventually he did.
"Well, this is certainly very interesting", he said slowly, "it clearly needs to be investigated, but it doesn't have to belong to one of the kidnappers. I suppose one of the newspaper reporters could have dropped it. They would have had details of the girls' addresses."
It was Adam who pointed out the fallacy of that argument.
"But the police never gave out any information about Jo and Sandy being next in line for kidnapping."
"That's true", said Robbie, "although the press were told about us rescuing Sarah".
"Yes", said Timmy, determined that there shouldn't be any boring explanation of his find, "but a reporter would have had all our names and addresses, not just the girls'".
"A very good point Timmy", said Robbie who had no desire to dampen the younger children's excitement, "my guess is that you're probably right, but we do first have to eliminate the innocent explanations. Another one's just occurred to me. I suppose the wallet might belong to one of the police officers who searched the grounds that night. But that's unlikely. I don't suppose there was time to brief them on Jo and Sandy before the search started. Have you looked at the other bit of paper?"
"No", said Timmy, "we just charged straight out here when we'd read the first one."
"Right, well we'd better be careful how we do it. We don't want to rub off any finger prints. Come on, let's go down to the kitchen and find some rubber gloves."
Even Robbie was now finding it difficult to be calm. He ran down the stairs just as fast as the younger children. Once in the kitchen, Sarah rushed to the sink and retrieved a pair of pink rubber gloves. She handed them to Robbie who managed, somehow, to squeeze them onto his hands. Then, very gingerly, he prised open the wallet and took the other piece of paper out, holding it by one corner. The others crowded round as he carefully unfolded it and read aloud these few words: "Boss1Shore road".
"Wow, that's it", said Adam, 'Boss' must mean the leader of the gang and 1 Shore Road must be his address. I vote we go there tomorrow and do a citizen's arrest".
"Sorry Adam", said Robbie, "but our days of detective work are passed. We've got to give this to the police and let them handle it."
Both sets of twins looked thoroughly dejected by Robbie's decision. They did their best to persuade him to allow them, at the least, to go to the village and look at the outside of the house. But he was having none of it. And they knew only too well what would happen to them if they disobeyed him. He did agree that they could all come with him to the police station in the morning to hand over the evidence. But that was as far as he was prepared to go. It was, therefore, with a feeling of anticlimax that the twelve year olds eventually climbed back up the stairs to go to bed.
Robbie had hoped that he would be able to see Inspector Mullins again and he was disappointed, when they arrived at the station, to be told that that particularly sensible police officer had been transferred to another station. He asked to see the officer now in charge of the investigation. The desk sergeant, who was more in the mould of PC Baker than Inspector Mullins, proved remarkably unhelpful. He was _d_a_m_n_ed if he was going to risk the anger of his superior officer by inflicting this band of children on him.
"I'm sorry my boy, but Inspector Travis is far too busy to see you now. Maybe if you make an appointment he might be able to fit you in for a few minutes in a week or two."
It was time for Robbie to display the natural authority which had so shaken PC Baker.
"Officer, I am sorry if your inspector will be inconvenienced by seeing me, but I must insist that he does so. The men who kidnapped Sarah may well be undertaking other criminal ventures which might not turn out so happily as this one did. We have found evidence which could well be of vital importance in the investigation. I don't imagine that your inspector will thank you for trying to prevent its getting to him."
Sergeant Lister was surprised, and not a little shaken, by the youth's tone. But he was not going to give in if he could help it.
"Now look here my lad", he spoke with as much conviction as he could muster, "I think you would be better advised to let me be the judge of whether your so-called evidence is worth bothering the inspector with. Tell me about it and then I will decide whether to progress things any further."
Concisely and clearly Robbie explained about Timmy's discovery of the wallet and about what had been written on the two pieces of paper inside it. Even Sergeant Lister, though quick to point out that there could be an entirely innocent explanation, could see that this was, indeed, potentially important evidence. But he remained determined not to give Robbie a moral victory.
"Very well", he said in his most self-important voice, "give me the wallet and I will make sure Inspector Travis gets it as soon as he's free. If we need to talk to you about it we will be in touch."
Robbie reluctantly handed over the small plastic bag in which he had placed the wallet. Just as he was about to turn to leave the station, however, he saw the sergeant open the bag and start to put his bare hand inside to retrieve the wallet.
"Good God sergeant, don't do that. You can't want yet more finger prints on it."
The policeman instantly knew he was in the wrong and had been caught out by this slip of a lad, but his pride was at stake. Although he withdrew his hand, he did not want to let Robbie think he was doing so for any good reason.
He chuckled, as though humouring a ten year old, "I think you might agree that I might know a bit more about fingerprints than you. If this wallet is what you say it is, it's been out in the mud and rain for months. There's no possibility of any finger prints having survived that. But, to keep you happy, I'll leave it in the bag until the Inspector sees it. Then he can put his paws all over it."
Robbie had too much sense than to argue with this buffoon. He was again turning to leave, without saying another word, when he heard another voice.
"Ok Sergeant, I'll take that bag."
Inspector Travis, for that is who it was, had, unbeknown to the sergeant or the children, been listening to the whole exchange from behind a partition across the main reception area of the station. He had now emerged to take control of things.
"You are quite right young man", he continued, "it is highly probable that fingerprints left on this wallet when it was dropped may well have been preserved. Thank you for saving my sergeant from himself."
Sergeant Travis was seething with anger at this outcome to his battle of strength with Robbie, but he was doing his best to hide the fact. He was fortunate that his competitor was mature enough to show no signs of pleasure at the victory, but it was still not easy to accept that he had been trounced by a mere boy. Inspector Travis continued to address the children.
"So you are the famous island cave kidnapping children then. I am delighted to meet you, come on into my office and tell me the latest developments."
The seven children crowded into the small office and proceeded to give their account of the previous day's discovery. Timmy, as the one who had actually found the wallet, was allowed, again, to tell the main story. Charlie quickly took over, explaining, before the inspector could put forward the suggestions, why it was highly unlikely that the wallet had belonged to a reporter or a policeman. When the story had been told, the children waited for the officer's verdict.
"Well, I must say, this does look like a very significant development. We haven't closed the investigation, it's far too serious a case for that, but we had been running it down. I think we are going to have get up to speed again. I'm sure there's no need to say this, but it is desperately important that news of your find should not get out. Can I take it that you have told no one else yet?"
"Absolutely", said Robbie, "we guessed you would want it kept it secret and I've already made it very clear that no one is to breathe a word of this to anyone else."
Inspector Travis, when he had taken over the investigation, had, of course, read all the statements. He, like Inspector Mullins before him, had particularly noted the description of the manner in which Robbie had dealt with Timmy and Charlie in the cave. And, like Inspector Mullins, he had approved of Robbie's actions. To his mind, there was a distressing liberalism creeping into the manner in which children were now brought up. He had been encouraged to read of two boys who were clearly being properly disciplined. He smiled now as he guessed the threats Robbie must have issued in making it "very clear" that the find should be kept secret.
The inspector assured the children that he would keep them closely informed of all developments. In particular, he would leave instructions with his sergeant that if any of them ever needed to see him they should be shown in immediately. It crossed Robbie's mind that Inspector Travis was not, perhaps, Sergeant Lister's greatest fan.
It was a fine and very warm summer's day. The children left the police station at shortly before ten o'clock in the morning. They had decided that they would all go to the island for a picnic lunch and a swim. But, first, the girls had decided that they wanted to do some shopping. Although they didn't tell Timmy and Charlie what they were up to, they were going to look for birthday presents for them. The boy twins were to be 13 in three days time. Jo and Sandy, incidentally, were also due to become teenagers shortly, but not for another week. It was agreed that the boys would return to the house to prepare the picnic while the girls enjoyed their shopping expedition.
The picnic was not to be a complicated affair. Indeed, Sammy had already done most of the work. She had roasted two chickens the night before and hard boiled seven eggs immediately before they had set off for the police station. All the boys had to do was to butter some bread rolls and pack all the ingredients, including some tomatoes, some fruit and some lemonade and cider, in the hamper. It was the work of minutes and so the boys now had an hour or so to fill in before the whole party would set off for the island.
On the previous afternoon Adam had walked past Robbie's bedroom and heard a sound which he had immediately recognised. A series of swishing noises, each followed by a crack, had told him instantly that Robbie was practising his caning technique. He had guessed, correctly, that Robbie must have been using a cushion or pillow as a target. Despite his knowledge that it was overwhelmingly probable that it would not be long before he would be a real live target for that cane, he had been wryly amused by Robbie's preparation for his new role as head of house. In fact, as Adam well knew, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he might be on the receiving end of the cane even before he returned to school for the next term. That was because his father had given firm instructions to Robbie that misbehaviour by his son should be dealt with "just as you would at Upton". Even if he escaped the cane during the rest of the holidays, there was every chance that Timmy and Charlie would not. Their father, too, had given authority to Robbie to use the cane after their thirteenth birthday. As all that passed through his mind, Adam had an idea as to how to fill some time before the girls' return.
"I say Robbie", he said as they were all leaving the kitchen, "can we watch you doing some swishing practice? It'll be great to be able to tell the other boys what your technique is like."
Robbie had been hoping to find some time for some more rehearsing. He did not think it quite appropriate to do it when the girls were around and this seemed an excellent opportunity. He happily agreed to Adam's plan.
"Ok, but I promised I'd mend the puncture on Sammy's bike. I'll just go and do that. You can go and get the cane if you want. It's in my room on the chest of drawers. I'll join you in the sitting room in ten minutes or so."
Adam and the twins bounded up the stairs to get the dreaded instrument of punishment. None of them had actually held a proper cane before, although Adam, of course, had felt one on his bottom several times. They were all eager to see what it was like to hold a real cane. Adam got into the room first and made straight for the chest of draws. Sure enough, lying on top, was the three foot long, thin, cane. He gazed down at it for a second or two and then, almost reverentially, he picked it up with his right hand and gently stroked its smooth surface with his left hand. Then, with one hand at each end, he bent it into an arc shape, marvelling at its flexibility.
"Gosh", said Charlie, "I've never seen a proper cane this close before. There was one in the drawer in the head's study at our prep, where he kept the whacking slipper, so I sometimes caught a glimpse of it when he was getting the slipper out to whack me, but I never saw it properly. It's amazingly bendy isn't it?"
"That's one of the reasons it stings so much", Adam explained, "it's almost like a whip the way it curls round your bum."
"Wow", Timmy exclaimed, "I really bet it does sting too."
"Come on lads", Adam said, "let's go down to the sitting room and try a few practice swishes ourselves. We can use a cushion to be the boy's bum."
The three of them ran down to the sitting room, all eager to have a go at pretending to punish a naughty boy. Once in the room Adam explained that they needed a "boy's bum sized cushion". The twins each went to a sofa (both of which were covered with cushions of all sizes and colours) and rummaged around for one which would do the job. Timmy found one first and took it over to his brother, holding it beside Charlie's bottom, to check for size.
"That's perfect", said Adam, "now we need to put it on a chair arm I think, so it's the right height."
"Hang on", said Timmy excitedly, "I've got a really good idea. Why don't we put it in a pair of trousers, to make it look more realistic? The girls aren't here. I don't mind if we use mine", and he immediately started undoing his tight blue jeans. In a moment he was standing in his underpants, handing his jeans to Adam who, with great care over such an important operation, inserted the cushion and carefully shaped his model so that it took on a passing resemblance to the lower half of a thirteen year old boy. Next, he draped the padded jeans over the arm of a large chair and stood back to admire his handiwork. Satisfied that it was as good as it could be, he asked the twins if they would mind if he had the first go.
"I think you should", said Timmy, "after all, you must have seen swishings and we haven't, so you'll know much better how to do it."
Adam took careful aim, remembering to pat the cane two or three times against the "boy's" bottom before pulling it back and swinging it forward with as much force as he could manage. The swishing sound and the crack as the cane landed were highly satisfactory to his ears. The twins both involuntarily placed their hands on their bottoms as the stroke connected and winced as they thought how painful a caning must be.
Adam took another two swipes at the jeans before passing the cane to Timmy. The soon to be thirteen year old set about his task with relish and produced almost as hard a barrage of three strokes as the older boy had. Charlie did just as well. When he had had his turn he spoke for both the others.
"Gosh, just think what it would be like to do that to a real boy. I mean, it's not nice to hurt people, but when you think about it, it only has to be done when a chap deserves it. I reckon it must be fantastic to do it in real life."
It was Timmy, yet again, who had the bright idea.
"Hey, let's do it. I think it would be really helpful to us to have some idea of what a swishing feels like before we go to Upton. Obviously not a really hard one, but we could each give one stroke each to the other two. I don't mind going first."
It says a lot about the strange minds of schoolboys that the other two both thought Timmy's idea absolutely splendid. None of the three positively wanted to feel the sting of the cane across his bottom. But they all very much wanted to inflict it on the others'. I suppose, in the case of the twins, there was also an element of curiosity as to what a caning would feel like. They knew that, over the next few years, it was something that they were going to experience in earnest on, they guessed, quite a few occasions. They had often imagined how it would compare with the familiar feeling of the gym shoe or slipper. But, so far, that is all it had been; imagination. This opportunity, to have what they all knew would be a mild caning compared to the real thing, was one which, despite their natural reluctance to suffer unnecessary pain, was one which was unlikely to repeat itself soon. When they took account of the thrill they each expected to experience when wielding the cane themselves, there was no option, in their minds, but to go through with it.
Adam, of course, had no need to find out what a caning would feel like. He knew perfectly well, and had no desire to be given two strokes now, even though he knew they would be nothing compared to the real thing. But he did, very much, want to try swinging the cane at a real bottom and his sense of fair play was such that he would never have considered suggesting that his role should be limited to that of caner.
Obviously, the boys did have some feelings of trepidation. The twins, in particular, were facing the unknown. They had heard, from other boys who had been caned, that the pain was infinitely worse than that caused by a slippering. But they trusted each other not to overdo it and they knew Adam well enough by then to be confident that he would be sensible as well. Nevertheless, Charlie did voice his concerns.
"I think it's a fantastic idea", he said, "but we must all promise not to do it so hard that it hurts too much. After all, it's not as if we've been naughty and need it. I mean it's only a game."
"Well I won't overdo it", said Adam, "all we need do is do it hard enough to get a feeling of what it feels like to swish someone's bum. What we could do", he went on, "is get it bare, so we can watch the stripes. Obviously they're not going to be really bad ones like at school, but just fairly light strokes should give pretty good red lines. That'll make it more fun to do but it also means that we can get the fun without hitting really hard."
This rather convoluted logic appealed to the twins and they readily agreed to Adam's suggestion.
After further discussion, it was agreed that Timmy would go first, followed by Charlie and finally Adam. Since they had been practising on the padded trousers draped over the chair arm, they decided that each would bend over the same arm for his "punishment". The rules now established, Timmy, not without some butterflies in his tummy, slipped his underpants down and bent over the chair arm.
The sight of Timmy's bottom was, of course, nothing new to Charlie. Even Adam had seen a fair amount of it during the previous holidays. But both the watching boys still felt a strange frisson of excitement as they looked down on the slim, firm, slightly rounded and, as yet, wholly unmarked buttocks. Neither could, for the life of them, have explained what it was about seeing another boy bending over for punishment that caused this thrill. But thrill was certainly the right word for it.
Adam, it had been agreed, was to have the honour of administering the first stroke. He stepped forward and gently tapped the firm flesh with the cane. Then, taking his time so as to get as much out of the experience as he could, he slowly pulled the cane back. He had seen prefects caning his friends several times (usually as he was waiting for the same treatment - or recovering from it). He knew that a genuine punishment involved the application of very great force to the offending boy's flesh. He judged that, by using only medium force, he could produce a good result without causing too much pain. He hoped he was right as he swung the cane through the air and heard the satisfying crack as it hit Timmy's naked bottom, right across the middle. It was, as he had hoped, just hard enough to make the end of the cane curl round the right buttock. Within a moment there was a rewarding pink line across both buttocks.
Timmy had been holding his breath as he waited for his first ever stroke of the cane. He had been secretly hoping that Adam would do no more than give him a light tap. When it came, that was not how it could be properly described. He could tell that Adam had used a fair amount of energy. There was an immediate, and quite painful, sting. But he could also tell that Adam had not hit him harder than was necessary for the purpose of the exercise. The pain, though different in nature, was no worse than that caused by the first stroke of a moderate slippering. He breathed out in relief as he realised that he was going to be able to take the next stroke without a problem.
Charlie now took the cane from Adam and, just as Adam had done, he stepped forward and tapped it on his brother's tensed bottom. The stripe produced by Adam's stroke, which was now red rather than pink, provided an excellent aiming aid. Charlie was keen to ensure that there were two stripes across his brother's bottom and he decided to aim just below the first. He had carefully watched Adam's stroke and noted the degree of force the older boy had used. He pulled the cane back the same distance and swung it forward with, he hoped, the same energy that Adam had applied. The swishing sound and the crack of rattan on bottom were very similar to those produced by Adam. The stripe seemed to be very similar and, Charlie was pleased to note, was about half an inch below the first one; exactly where he had intended it to be. He was delighted to have acquitted himself so well.
Timmy had actually expected Charlie, being younger and not as strong as Adam, to produce a less painful stroke. It was a bit of a shock to him to find that the sting was just as bad. But his ordeal was now over and he was pleased that his bottom felt no worse than it did after the first two strokes of a slippering. He stood and gently stroked the flesh before craning his head round to look at the stripes.
"Wow, you two are pretty good at this", he said, "those stripes aren't bad at all."
"You wait till you see Upton stripes", said Adam, "they're really gruesome."
"Don't worry, I know that wasn't nearly as hard as I'll get at Upton, but it was still pretty stingy." Timmy pulled his underpants up as Charlie, who had handed the cane back to Adam, dropped his jeans and pants and took his place over the arm of the chair. Timmy could feel a familiar stirring between his legs as he felt the sting on his own bottom and looked at his brother's awaiting the same treatment. He wanted to recover his jeans (which were still padded with the cushion), but he did not want to miss anything. So he risked his excitement being noticed (although carefully placing his hands in front of his crotch). Adam was again tapping the bare bottom with the cane. He, too, was now becoming a little aroused by what they were doing, and was not a little concerned about what the twins would see when it was his turn to drop his jeans and pants, but he was still determined not to rush things. After all, he thought to himself, it was unlikely that he would be able to cane a real boy again until ("unless" as well) he became a prefect in three years or so. He pulled the cane back and, using exactly the same force as he had on Timmy, swung it against the slim bottom. Once more, the force was enough to make the end of the cane whip round Charlie's right buttock and the stripe was, again, perfect.
Charlie's thoughts as he waited for that first stroke had been similar to Timmy's. Now it had connected, he also felt relieved that the pain was bearable. Like Timmy, also, he was fascinated by the difference between the type of pain caused by a cane and that caused by a gym shoe or slipper.
Timmy now had to remove his hands from their position in front of his underpants. He was praying that Adam would not notice what was happening to him, but he was also keen to wield the cane. He took his position and tapped the cane on his brother's bottom. He, also, decided to use the reddening stripe across the middle of Charlie's bottom to take aim. He slowly raised the cane until it was behind his shoulder and then swung it with as much force as Adam had done. He was delighted with the result. He even detected a slight shudder of pain from his brother as the stroke landed on the firm flesh and he was extremely pleased with the thin stripe which appeared instantly, just above Adam's.
It was at that moment that Robbie walked in.
"What on earth are you up to?", he asked, rather unnecessarily you might have thought.
All three boys blushed at the embarrassment of having been caught in the act. Adam spoke for them.
"Sorry Robbie. I know it must seem mad, but we just wanted to see what it was like caning for real. I mean, we're not doing it hard, but we thought it would be interesting."
Robbie had been their age himself once. He understood exactly what had led them to their apparently odd behaviour. He chuckled as he spoke.
"That's ok. I expect I might have done the same at your age, given the chance." He glanced down at Timmy's bottom, covered only by the thin white underpants and saw the outline of two red stripes through the cotton. "So the twins have had it, what about you Adam? Have they swished you as well?"
"It was me next, but I s'pose we'd better stop now", Adam replied, rather hopefully.
"Certainly not", said Robbie, "that would be most unfair. Come on, give them their fun as well."
Although Robbie's entrance had somewhat abated the feeling of growth in Adam's crotch, he was still conscious that the pleasure he had got from caning his young friends might well be noticeable. But his sense of fair play was such that he knew he had to go through with it. He also took a little comfort from the fact that he had noticed that Timmy seemed to be having the same trouble as him. He turned his back on the others and quickly dropped his jeans and pants before bending over the arm of the chair.
Adam's bottom was not much bigger than the twins'. Robbie thought, not for the first time, that it was made for the cane. He watched with considerable interest as the twins took it in turns to swing the cane at their target. The resulting stripes were as good as those on Timmy's and Charlie's bottoms. Adam was, obviously, used to much more painful beatings at school, but he was quietly impressed by the youngsters' natural ability with the cane and he felt a considerable sting across his bottom.
"Not bad", said Robbie, "so who wants to have a taste of the real thing? "
The three boys giggled nervously. Adam, who was pulling his jeans up again, was the first to speak.
"That's really kind of you Robbie, but I think I can manage to wait till I need it for real."
"Me too", echoed the twins, one after the other.
Robbie spotted Timmy's jeans with the cushion inside them.
"Ok, well let me have a go on that model you've made."
Timmy was beginning to feel a bit put out about having to spend so long with nothing on other than his underpants, but his curiosity was such that he was content for Robbie to go ahead with a demonstration. He stepped forward and carefully arranged his pretend boy over the arm of the chair.
Robbie took the cane and swished it through the air a couple of times. Then, with the air of a boy who had spent many hours practising his future duties, he took his position. He tapped the cane on the fake bottom then pulled it back and swung it forward with what, to the watching boys, looked like superhuman force. Indeed, so hard was the stroke, that the cane left a deep indentation in the trouser seat, all the way across the imaginary bottom.
The twins and Adam grimaced as they saw what Robbie could do. The possibility, no, the certainty, that he would one day be on the receiving end of several such blows did, at least, have the effect of reducing Timmy's state of excitement. He was hopeful that Adam and Robbie had not noticed the effect the show had had on him. He was not so concerned about Charlie because, although neither twin had ever spoken about it, each knew that the other had similar feelings about wallopings. Now, decently limp again, he quickly recovered his jeans and put them on.
The call from Inspector Travis came just before the girls returned. There had been no great breakthrough in the investigation. Indeed, the police were mystified. An officer, it seemed, had been despatched to the village to visit 1 Shore Road. He had returned with the unexpected news that there was no number one. Indeed, there were no lower numbers than 43. The inspector had tracked down another officer who had been brought up in the village. He had confirmed that only the odd numbers between 43 and 59 Shore Road remained. All the other houses had been destroyed some thirty years earlier when a freak wave had flooded the village.
"My guess is", the inspector said to Robbie, "that it must be another Shore Road, somewhere else along the coast. I've put out a request to other stations, so I hope we will come up with something."
Inspector Travis's news put a bit of a dampener on things. But, with the return of the girls and the thought of the fun to be had on the island, the boys soon cheered up.
The children's route to the jetty happened to take them along Shore Road. For the first time, they looked at the house numbers and saw that Inspector Travis's information had obviously been correct.
But Adam spotted something else. He didn't say anything about it, but a plan began to form in his mind.
They had the island to themselves. It was far too warm and sunny to spend any time in the cave. Instead, they went to their favourite small beach, on the far side of the island from the coast. There, they knew, they could frolic in sand and water unseen by anyone else.
Jo and Sandy were particularly high spirited. They were the first to change into their swimming things. Ever tom boys, they had gone on using trunks for as long as possible, but they now accepted that decency required that they wear something on top as well. Both had acquired rather fetching bikinis. They slipped behind a rock, stripped and put them on. When they emerged Charlie, with a towel wrapped around his waist, was carefully removing his underpants before putting on his trunks. Sandy, I regret to tell you, could not resist the temptation. Perhaps it was because she felt the glimpse she had got the previous night gave her a licence to do it. More likely, it was just playful devilment. Anyway, in a flash, she grabbed the towel and yanked it free.
Charlie stood frozen in embarrassment for a second. Then placing one hand in front of him, he grabbed his trunks with the other and somehow managed to get them on. Sandy was giggling with pleasure at her trick. But she was also ready to run. Charlie made his move, but she was too quick. Laughing manically, she dashed towards the water. Charlie was the faster sprinter. Just as his prey was reaching the water's edge, he threw himself, in an impressive rugby tackle, at her feet. She fell forward onto the soft sand, still laughing at the fun of it all. Soon, the two of them were wrestling vigorously. Charlie was surprised at her strength, but he soon got the upper hand. He got an arm round her waist then knelt and then got to his feet, pulling her up with him. He looked around. A few yards away he saw a suitably sized rock. He half carried, half dragged her across to it. Once there, he sat on it and, despite her furious struggling, managed to pull her across his knee. She had been pummelling his stomach with her hands, but now, working out what he obviously intended, she diverted them to protect her small bottom. But it was to no avail. You don't get to nearly thirteen years old without learning a few things about spanking techniques. Charlie grabbed both her wrists with his left hand and pulled them up her back. Then he slipped his right hand under the skimpy bikini bottoms and pulled them down in one movement.
"Hey, you can't do that", Sandy screeched.
"That's where you're wrong, cos I just have", and he raised his hand and brought it smartly down on her perfect little bottom. She was, of course, used to much harder smacks at home but, even though Charlie was holding back in deference to her _s_e_x_, he was pleased with the pink shape of his hand that appeared in a second on her flesh. He gave her another quick couple of smacks but then, conscious that the particular enjoyment he was getting from the game was likely to become all too apparent to her before long, he released her. She jumped off him, pulling her bikini bottoms up as she did so.
"I'll get you for that Charlie" she giggled at him. He, in mock terror, jumped up and ran for the sea. If the truth be told, he was in urgent need of cold water to calm him down. She ran after him. In a moment, they were happily splashing each other. The others, who had watched the performance with some merriment, and, in Timmy's case at least, with rather too much pleasure, soon joined them.
After half an hour or so they all sat together on the beach to eat their picnic. When the last scrap of food had disappeared, Robbie and Sammy announced their intention of going for a walk together. The others were wise enough to realise their company would not be welcome and they stayed on the beach. Charlie lay back to soak in the sun. Adam, Sarah, Timmy and Jo jumped up and raced down to the sea again. Sandy stood up and looked down at the dozing soon-to-be-thirteen year old boy. She was, I think, a little confused. When she had pulled his towel away from him she had been motivated by nothing more than a sense of fun. When they had been wrestling in the sand she had thought no more of it than that it was fun to be treated by a boy as an equal, and to play boyish games with him. Even as he had been dragging her towards the rock and she had begun to realise what he was planning to do, she had thought of it as a game. But, as he had taken her bikini bottoms down and the first slap had landed, she had become aware of a different, rather more exciting, feeling. She might be a tomboy, but she was beginning to get a rather odd idea that there was something about Charlie which was particularly appealing to her in a way that had a great deal to do with her being a girl and very little to do with her desire to be treated like a boy. What was more, even though he had thought it had not been detected, she had been aware, just as she had got up from across his knee, that he had not exactly been unmoved himself. Highly odd though it undoubtedly was, she was having to admit to herself that there had been something about having her bottom smacked by him which had been extraordinarily thrilling to both of them. As she thought it all through she had a sudden uncontrollable desire to be alone with him.
"Hey Charlie", she was almost whispering, "how about checking out the cave?"
He opened his eyes and looked up at her pretty face. He had not been asleep. He had, in fact, been thinking thoughts very similar to hers. The idea of going off alone with her to the cave was one which he found decidedly pleasant. He jumped up.
"Ok, let's go before the others get out of the water."
Almost guiltily, the two of them ran up the beach and started the climb up to the secret entrance to the cave. They didn't speak again until they were safely down the ladder and over the large rock in the main part of the cave.
They walked towards the lapping water near the main entrance and stood staring out to sea. Sandy was the first to speak.
"Charlie", her voice was low and somehow alluring, "you know when I pulled your towel off you?"
"I'm not likely to forget am I?"
"S'pose not. Anyway, it looked as though you'd got cane stripes on your bum. Have you been in trouble?"
"Oh no", he chuckled, "that was just a silly game. Adam and Timmy and I decided to see what it would be like to swish someone. Not hard, you know, just hard enough to give us stripes. So we borrowed Robbie's cane. Stupid really. But we each had a turn of giving one stroke each to the other two. So we all ended up with two stripes."
"And what it was it like? I mean, was it more fun than when you smacked me?"
He misunderstood her. He assumed that she was annoyed about what he had done to her.
"I'm really sorry about that Sandy. I don't know what came over me. I promise I won't do it again."
Her voice was a little strained as she replied. "Actually, I quite enjoyed it. Odd, isn't it? I mean, when I get spanked at home I really hate it. But when you were doing it to me it made me feel really good inside."
She was only speaking so openly because she knew perfectly well that Charlie had been just as excited by spanking her as she had been by being spanked. But she hadn't let on that she knew that and now, as he listened to her, he was quite unsure how to reply. There was a long pause and he shifted uneasily on his feet as he tried to think of the right thing to say.
Sandy smiled at his confusion and embarrassment.
"It's ok Charlie, it's our secret, but I felt what was happening to you when you were doing it. Come on, admit it, you loved it, and I hope it was more fun than the game you were playing with Adam and Timmy."
"Well, I suppose", his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, "it was sort of quite good".
"Mmmm", she was still smiling, "just 'quite good'? It felt to me like it was rather more than that. Or perhaps your thing is always that hard".
Charlie might have been a little slow to enter into the spirit of this conversation when it started, but now he needed no more prompting.
"You naughty girl", he said, "I've a good mind to put you over my knee and give you a jolly good spanking."
"Oh no, not this time. Boys who's things go hard when they are smacking naughty girls' bottoms need their own bottoms smacked. Come with me my boy", and she put her hand in his and pulled him gently towards a rock at the side of the cave.
Charlie followed meekly, marvelling to himself at how all this was developing. She sat on the rock and patted her knees.
"Over you go my lad".
With no trace of hesitation, he gently lay down across her bare thighs. His "thing", as she called it, was now harder than ever. He had to lift his bottom up high to clear enough space for her to pull his trunks down. As he lay back down again she felt the hardness on her left thigh and gave an involuntary shiver of delight as she recognised the effect she was having on him. Then, with slow deliberation, she gently stroked his firm rounded buttocks. By now, he was squirming with pleasure and anticipation. She looked down at the slim contours of what, to her mind, was one of the most beautiful things a girl could ever see. The two stripes were now all but gone. The flesh was creamy white. She pressed it and felt its firmness. Then, in a sudden movement, she raised her hand high and brought it down as hard as she could. The slap echoed around the cave. He squirmed more, and even let out a small moan, not of pain but of unbridled pleasure. She watched as the flesh gradually turned pink. Then she let fly again. Again, there was a moan from Charlie, as he felt the sting on his bottom and wriggled more. She gave him another two smacks and then, again, stroked his pink and warm bottom. Finally, with a sigh, she released him and he, just as reluctantly, stood up again.
Charlie's enjoyment of his spanking had been very great, as Sandy had noticed. But, now that it was over and he was standing with his trunks round his ankles, he suddenly felt extreme embarrassment at his condition. He was, I think, still a little too young to understand that it was possible for a girl to get as much pleasure from these things as it was for a boy. Whatever the reason, for the second time that day he felt the sudden need to plunge the lower half of his body into cold water. He ran to the opening of the cave and dived into the waves. The remedy seemed to work and, after about five minutes, trunks pulled up again, he emerged.
Sandy was chuckling at her friend's embarrassment.
"And there was I hoping you were going to show me what boys get up to in bed at night."
"Bloody hell, Sandy, I can't do that, not in front of a girl."
"I'll let you into a secret Charlie, girls are actually meant to be rather involved in that sort of thing. Still, promise me you'll think of me when you're doing it tonight".
"Don't worry, I'll never think of anyone else again."
All good things have to come to an end and Charlie and Sandy realised that they would have to get back to the others before they were missed. They set off, back up the ladder (with Charlie insisting that Sandy should go ahead of him), and down the hill to the beach. Whether the others noticed the extraordinarily satisfied looks on their faces, I don't know, but they both certainly felt that they had taken a great stride forward in their young lives. This was a day neither would ever forget, and one which they would both relive in their dreams for years to come.
The whole party was gathered (I have to report that Sammy and Robbie were also looking a bit like the cat who got the cream, but perhaps we had better not pry into what they had been up to) and it was now time to return home. As they turned out of Shore Road Adam suddenly announced that he had dropped something. He turned back and was out of sight for a few moments before running back. He had not dropped anything, but he had made valuable use of being in Shore Road, and out of sight of the others. He had worked out that he would need a screw driver. He was strangely quiet as he secretly planned his next visit to the road.
That night Charlie, Timmy and Adam lay in their beds talking about the day's events. Adam had decided to reveal his discovery to the twins, on their firm promise not to tell anyone else. He reckoned he might need their help. They needed no persuasion. They agreed that they should wait for a week, but then, at dead of night, when everyone was asleep, they would get out of the window, climb down to the garden and head for Shore Road.
"You realise we're bound to get swished if we're caught don't you?", Adam asked, "I'd understand if you decided not to go through with it."
"We won't get caught", said Charlie, "and anyway, if we do it'll mean we'll have one up on the other new boys next term. Just imagine being able to say you've already had the swish from the head of your house even before you've come to the school."
The plans made, conversation turned to other things.
Charlie, out of some sort of sense of gallantry, did not reveal what had happened in the cave, but Timmy chatted happily about the spanking his brother had given Sandy on the beach.
"Wow, Charlie, you were just so lucky. Was it really great doing it? I mean even from where I was I could see her bum going pink. I bet you got a stiffie. I certainly would have done."
Adam agreed that Charlie had been "a lucky blighter". As the boys thought back to the scene on the beach (and Charlie thought of the cave), the inevitable happened. Soon, the only noise was the squeaking of the bed springs.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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