a smirk.
‘Drop your pants, boy, and bend over.’ He pointed to a stool.
I trembled as I slowly unbuttoned my drawers. They fell to lie disconsolately around my ankles. I waddled over to the stool and leaned my elbows on it. My little white bottom shivered in the cool air with both cold and dread. Tears bubbled over and trickled down my cheeks onto the stool. I bit my lip trying to hold them back but to no avail. I could hear the headmaster remove his coat and place it over his chair. He picked up the cane again and marched towards me.
‘For your punishment, Master Fenton, you shall be receiving five of the best. And let this be a lesson to you, boy, never to bring RATS into the school again.’
I heard the air whistle as the cane sped down and hit my buttocks. I held my breath.
‘One!’
The pain was sudden and sharp.
‘Two!’
I counted silently in my head, flinching at each wallop. My tears had turned to sobs.
‘Three!’
Two to go, two to go. I murmured inside.
‘Four!’
Almost there, one more, one more. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
‘Five!’
Mr Brown returned the cane back to the wall and put his coat back on. He was puffing slightly as he returned to his chair. My face was red and slimy with tears mingling into snot. I silently pulled my trousers carefully over my buttocks. My bottom felt as if it were on fire as I stood to attention in front of his desk. He was writing a note for my parents.
I walked home with lead in my shoes. The pain and embarrassment were almost too much to bear. I could feel the note searing in my pocket, adding to the heat coming from my nether regions. I had been instructed to go home and give the note to my father who would have to sign it so I could return it as being witnessed. There was no escape from further punishment, which was what Mr Brown was hoping for I could tell. He seemed to be particularly satisfied with himself after my caning and I hated him for it. I muttered to myself all the nasty things I craved him to endure. If the evilest goblins in the world should come to snatch him and take him away to work in their underground caves, then I would have personally cheered them on and strewn their path with flowers. I crossed both my fingers and wished with all my might that this dreadful thing would happen to him. My imagination ran with it and I began constructing different scenarios of torture that the goblins would enforce on my headmaster. This kept my mind engaged and I was somewhat flabbergasted to arrive at my front door. The enchanting images evaporated and I returned with a thump to the present and unavoidable confrontation to be.
I skulked in, not wishing to see my mother. I was her golden boy and I felt deeply ashamed at my asinine behaviour in front of Lily. It was best to face it like a man and get it over with. I knocked on my father’s study door and waited for the response.
‘Come in,’ I heard.
I breathed in a deep breath and walked in, closing the door behind me. My father stopped writing and smiled initially at seeing me, but the smile dropped quickly on observation of my serious expression. He frowned.
‘What’s the matter, son? Why are you home so early?’
I reached into my pocket and handed him the note. He opened it and read carefully, ignoring my sullen presence. His face was unreadable as I watched his eyes dart left to right along the paper. The clock gonged stridently in the background. He folded the note and sat thoughtfully with one hand touching his elbow and the other stroking his chin. Finally, after an interminable amount of time, he regarded me.
‘Well, well, Charles. I see you have been a naughty boy.’ He spoke quietly.
I stood with my heart in my mouth and nodded.
‘Mr Brown has written that he has punished you from the school’s point of view but wishes me to enforce my own personal reprimand as I see fit.’
I gulped and bit my lip to stop me from crying.
‘What exactly did he do?’
I lowered my trousers and turned around so that my father could see the welts. They were raised and red and the bruising was just starting to appear. I heard a sharp intake of breath and for a moment I felt a brief surge of hope that he might grab his stick and batter Mr Brown black and blue. I knew my father’s strong conviction on physical discipline and my spirits rose. The goblins would have nothing on my father’s ire. I re-buttoned the trousers and looked at him with hopeful anticipation. However, I was wrong. He stared at me with a myriad of emotions fleeting over his face, then sighed.
‘That looks painful, son, but the shame you bring to the Fenton name cuts me deeper still. You represent this family whenever you engage with other members of our community. It is your responsibility to maintain that good name at all times. It saddens me to think you could break the school rules so blatantly and not only that, but also talk back to the headmaster. Whatever were you thinking?’
I stood silently, sombre in mood.
‘I stand by Mr Brown’s punishment and will endorse his recommendation of my own personal punishment.’
He pulled a box down from the bookcase shelf and placed it in front of me on his desk.
‘In this box is a brand-new edition of The Boys Own book by William Clark that I had purchased in London with the specific intent of giving it to you for your birthday. I know how much you have been wanting it and your mother and I felt you were old enough to get one this year. But now, after your little debacle, it is with the greatest of regret that I will have to return it.’
I cringed. I had been bothering them about the book for some weeks now. It had everything a boy would want to know about combustion in and under the water, how to change a card into a bird, plus my personal favourite, the art of hideous metamorphosis. I could use all of these skills to my greatest advantage. I salivated at the thought that the book was within arm’s reach of me and was now going to be taken away. Life was very, very unfair.
‘I will tell your mother that the book was unavailable. We shall not inform her about your poor behaviour. It would break her heart to know her boy was a heathen.’
The shame washed over me in a flood. If I could do anything to make things right with my father again, I swore to myself I would do it. He was a magnificent and wise man and I had let him down. My gratitude at his discretion was immense and I solemnly apologised and promised to never be naughty ever again. I watched sadly as he put the book back on the shelf. He hugged me briefly and dismissed me.
I plodded up the stairs to my room. Thankfully my mother seemed to be visiting her friend Magda and this enabled me to have a good wallow without her finding out. I had to lie on my stomach as my behind was throbbing and hot. Rivers of self-pity let loose and the dams broke as I cursed Mr Brown for his malevolence. I punched my pillow, visualising his face lying on top of it and in my fervour I accidentally caught the edge of the brass bedstead, making
