by Arthur James
Miss Kessler glanced at her small gold watch. There was certainly no one else at St Edwards preparatory school for boys who would have dreamed of wearing such a watch. It cost nearly as much as an ordinary schoolmistress would earn in an entire term. It was no wonder that amongst themselves the boys referred to her as Her Ladyship. Undoubtedly, she possessed an aristocratic air. What she was doing teaching at a rather down at heel boys' boarding school no one could properly understand as she seemed from another world entirely. No one could remember her ever being flustered or losing her poise. It was as if everything was always arranged for her satisfaction. Occasionally, boys were foolish enough to displease her which then meant they had to learn just how unwise that was. It was no wonder that despite her relative youthfulness the governors of the school had appointed her as Headmistress the previous term. It was a meteoric rise but one she took completely in her stride.
Again she looked at her watch. Where was that boy, Pearce? The dormitory monitor had been sent on a most important errand. In the distance she could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he approached. He knew he would incur an extra punishment if he arrived as much as a second over the deadline he had been given; the Headmistress was an absolute stickler for punctuality. In the dormitory there were eight beds, one of which was occupied by an angelic blond-haired child called Bradley who was cheerfully reading a comic. The other six boys were stood in a line as if taking part in a military inspection. All six of them looked in contrast to Bradley extremely miserable as if they knew that something unforgettably painful would happen soon.
They had all (except for Bradley) been caught red-handed participating in a rather wild pillow fight. Evidence of this outbreak of hooliganism, as Miss Kessler severely termed it, could be seen by the piles of feathers scattered on the floor. At least two of the boys' pillows had burst. It was peculiar, she felt, how whenever she caught the boys of this particular dormitory misbehaving, Bradley was always engaged in some completely innocent activity. It would appear that Bradley was an exceptionally well-behaved child although somehow she doubted the evidence of her own eyes. Maybe it was her feminine intuition or perhaps it was the simple fact that he had at first, until she had drawn his attention to it, been reading his Beano upside down. Anyway, the important fact was that yet again Bradley had not been caught and would escape the caning that all the other boys would deservedly receive. It would be six of the best each plus an extra two for Pearce, as he was a dormitory monitor. He should have reported the disturbance rather than actually taken a leading role in it. Mind you, if he didn't hurry he would get more than just an extra two!
"I am here, Miss Kessler," said Pearce breathlessly. His face was bright pink and he was breathing hard as he staggered to a halt in front of her. His thin chest heaved with exertion and he was swaying from side to side like a punch-drunk boxer.
"Indeed, I can see you are here, Pearce," commented Miss Kessler dryly, "with very little time to spare. You may hand me the cane."
Pearce had retrieved a thin dark brown cane from the top of Miss Kessler's bookcase. There had been several to choose from but he had just selected the first one to come to hand; there hadn't been time to make an informed choice. In any case, he knew whichever one he chose it would still sting wickedly in the Headmistress's merciless hands. Reluctantly, he handed Miss Kessler the cane and went to stand in line with the other miscreants.
A small wooden chair had been placed in readiness in the middle of the long dormitory. The boys all knew what to expect. In strict alphabetical order each boy would take his turn bending over the chair and would receive six agonising cuts across his bottom with only the thinnest protection of his cotton pyjamas. Miss Kessler was known to be diligent in checking that no boy was wearing underpants under his pyjamas. The last boy known to have tried such a thing had received not six but twelve of the best across his bare bottom. It was important, Miss Kessler felt, to always make an example of such a boy so as to prevent others from foolishly trying such subterfuge in the future.
"Abbot," she said. "Come and stand here by the chair, please."
Abbott's expression was like that of the condemned felon on his way to the scaffold as he made the short walk to the chair. Having the name Abbot meant that, barring the unlikely, he was doomed to always be the first boy punished.
Miss Kessler pulled back the elastic of his pyjamas and, having satisfied herself that his behind was suitably bare, said cheerfully, "Bend over, Abbot."
As well as being the first boy alphabetically, Abbot at twelve years of age was also the oldest by several weeks. He felt the importance of his seniority keenly as he bent over the chair, his light brown hair almost brushing the floor, the seat of his pyjamas drum tight. Miss Kessler thought it good to set an example. Abbot as well thought it good to set an example, although his example was one of conspicuous stoicism. Six times the thin cane cracked across his bottom yet until the last stroke, when a shrill howl somehow forced itself from his lips, he received his punishment in complete silence. Boys were always expected to accept their punishment as young gentlemen should.
The boys displayed the expected amount of fortitude, six strokes for each boy one after the other. A stiff upper lip all round until it came to her penultimate victim, Parry, who was in tears even before he bent over.
"Come on, Parry. I am afraid it's no use crying. If you don't like punishment you must learn to behave."
It was doubtless sound advice but it didn't seem to cheer the youngest boy in the dormitory in the slightest. Despite appearances, Miss Kessler wasn't as hard-hearted as she might at first appear. Parry's caning was noticeably less severe. Still though he sobbed and howled after each stroke until, by the end of his chastisement, the pretty schoolmistress felt almost deafened. The thought of dealing with her last victim, though, consoled her. Pearce was unquestionably one of her favourites, although that didn't mean she would spare the rod. In fact, because she was an exceptionally fair-minded young woman, she always ensured the boy suffered at least twice as many punishments as any other boy.
No one could accuse her of showing favouritism, even though she definitely had a weakness for girlishly pretty boys like Pearce and Bradley. It wasn't just that they were attractive; it was something in their personalities. They were both full of mischief and she liked that in a boy, after all, there were few things worse than a boy who always did as he was told, although it was of course her painful duty (a duty that she never shirked) to apply correction whenever it was needed. She had always found plenty of opportunities to correct Pearce's behaviour but Bradley was impossible to pin down. Never mind, it was Pearce's turn for a caning yet again. It was no hardship at all to award him the severe thrashing he undoubtedly deserved.
Never had the boys witnessed anything like it. If Parry's punishment had been far more lenient, poor Pearce's punishment more than made up for it. Time after time the cane whistled through the air and landed with an explosive crack that seemed to echo off the thin walls of the dormitory. Pearce gasped in pain but somehow resisted the temptation to run howling round the room as if his behind was on fire. Then, eventually, after the sixth stroke had cracked across his bottom, there was a longer pause than usual. Miss Kessler held a broken cane in her hands. She was not in the least bit amused. Several of the boys had to carefully suppress their own amusement as she placed the two halves of the cane into the wastepaper bin in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Pearce had stood up and was tenderly massaging his rear end.
"You have another two strokes of the cane to go, Pearce," she said sternly. If he was looking for sympathy he had better look elsewhere.
"Couldn't you let me off please, Miss? I have already had six like everyone else."
It really had been agonising and he always seemed to get it far worse than the other boys as if she blamed him just because he was the dormitory monitor. It wasn't fair as he had never wanted a position of responsibility. Miss Kessler had decided he would be the dormitory monitor at the start of last term and that was that. Every time there was a disturbance he got an extra caning as he wasn't the sort of boy to ever think of telling tales on the other boys.
"The very idea that you should be let off a well-deserved punishment because a cane broke in half is frankly ridiculous, Pearce. Furthermore, I have not been at all satisfied with the way you have carried out your tasks as dormitory monitor so you can consider yourself dismissed. I shall appoint a boy who I feel will fulfil his duties with a conscientiousness that has not been apparent since you were given such an important responsibility last term."
A woman such as Miss Kessler who possessed such acute observational skills couldn't fail to see the look of relief that flickered briefly across Pearce's attractive features. His eyes seemed temporarily to shine with happiness. Even the thought of the two more strokes of the cane still to come could not dampen his mood of exhilaration. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his slender shoulders.
"Bradley, you will be our new dormitory monitor," announced the schoolmistress. Her expression was reminiscent of a duchess dispensing gifts at the orphanage. Bradley's eyes widened in absolute horror, the last thing he wanted was the job of dormitory monitor. One didn't need to be a genius to work out that it was a poisoned chalice if ever there was one. How many extra canings had Pearce received since he had been made dormitory monitor?
"I would rather not please, Miss Kessler," he said, his voice quivering with anxiety. For several moments after Bradley had spoken there was an impressive silence in the dormitory. He fidgeted under the young Headmistress's stern gaze. Had her ears actually deceived her? Had a boy possessed the temerity, the bare-faced cheek to refuse the honour of being made a dormitory monitor? Maybe it was all a dream, she felt. Surely no boy would ever dare to say no to her.
"I am afraid I should view your refusal as unacceptable, Bradley. No boy should ever pass up such an opportunity because he is afraid of accepting responsibility."
In fact Bradley wasn't afraid of responsibility, but he had seen for himself the number of times Pearce had been punished because he had refused to inform on the other boys. He had no intention of putting himself in the same position if he could help it. What Bradley was most afraid of was the cane but it was of course impossible to explain that to Miss Kessler.
Her eyes held the boy's gaze as if she was bending him to her will. They seemed to bore into his head. His palms were moist with perspiration; suddenly he could stand it no longer.
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