by Susan Thomas
Going from the new part of the school into the old was like stepping from the twenty-first century into the nineteenth. The corridors were wide with terrazzo floors. The ceilings were high and instead of air-conditioning there were large fans turning in a graceful old-world way. The windows were huge but high up, letting in lots of light but not heat, and here and there were portraits of dignitaries and stands for well-tended plants. Despite the absence of air-conditioning this part of the building always felt pleasantly cool and being in it seemed to slow everyone down. They became more stately and spoke in quiet tones as if in a cathedral.
Every door was large and made of the most beautifully finished wood, each with an impressive brass plate describing the occupant. The door I was heading for was marked, 'Headmaster'. Opposite the door was a long, narrow wooden bench. It was a thing of beauty and I had the impression that it might have been originally made for a cathedral. The ends were carved with various plants but a cross dominated the centre. It was highly polished and I would think it might hold ten girls. At this precise moment, there were just two girls sitting there.
The two girls were from one of the lower year groups and looked very young to me. They clearly had some idea, unlike me, what they were in for and were very nervous. They sat holding hands, glancing at me only briefly before returning to their misery. Naturally I did not speak to them for I was eighteen and in the upper sixth; they were therefore beneath my notice. Except, of course, I did notice them and how nervous they were. I was not nervous but more like outraged that I should find myself in this position. The reason for the presence of all three of us was that this was the headmaster's daily punishment session.
I was outraged, not just that at eighteen I should be expected to attend one of these, but for a whole raft of other reasons too. My problem was I just wasn't too sure what happened in these sessions, other than it was deeply unpleasant, not to mention painful. I wanted to ask the two girls, but confessing, as a sixth-former, that I didn't know was not on. Besides, they were so nervous I didn't want to intrude. We three sat in silence with only the fans to disturb us: they went 'chukka...chk...chuk...chk...chuk' as if they were assessing our reaction to our wait.
The door opened and Miss Tidy, the headmaster's secretary, came out. The woman would have been better working in a gulag or concentration camp. She was squat, heavy and ugly with very short hair, thick legs and big hands. She seemed to bear ill will to all girls.
"Carrick, Claudia," she barked.
One of the two girls shot to her feet with a squeak that might have been, "Yes Miss."
"In."
The poor girl scuttled in and Miss Tidy shut the door. Of course, that wasn't the door to the headmaster's office; that was the door to hers. His was through another door on the other side of the outer office and she was his rottweiler prepared to savage any unwanted visitor.
I looked at the remaining younger girl and wished I hadn't. Now she was crying, the tears trickling down her face unnoticed and unchecked. I couldn't bear it. The poor kid was so scared she was crying before she even got in there. I took her hand and she jumped.
"It'll be alright. You'll see," I told her.
"It's Claudia I'm worried about. She's so nice. She doesn't deserve this and she's never been punished before."
I'd never been bloody well punished before either, and I didn't deserve it, but no one was crying for me. I tried to dredge up some words of comfort and could only think what my mother once said to me at the dentist: "It'll soon be over you know, and it's never as bad as you think." It turned out to be a good thing to say because she nodded and dried her tears and then thanked me with a solemn face.
Suddenly the door opened, Claudia Carrick came out, and the door shut behind her. Claudia was crying and holding her bottom. That did not bode well. Claudia walked straight to the other girl and they hugged each other. Claudia whispered something I couldn't hear but the girl I had spoken to went white. That did not bode well either. They stood hugging each other and I envied them. Those intense friendships were denied to me because my father moved us around so much.
The Tidy rottweiler emerged from her kennel again and barked, "Daniels, Susan."
The poor kid I'd spoken to jumped, literally, and stammered, "Y-y-yes Miss."
"In." She entered, but rottweiler woman reappeared a minute later and looked at Claudia. "You may not wait here. You'll have to go to the end of the corridor and wait on the other side of the double doors."
Claudia looked stricken and I guessed she was worried about Susan. "I'll tell her where you've gone and why."
Claudia thanked me and rottweiler glared at me. I wished she hadn't sent Claudia off because I had plucked up the nerve to ask what he actually did to his victims.
After Claudia left, the hour being what it was, the school had gone very quiet and I felt isolated and lonely. This was so wrong. It was bad enough these younger girls got punished at these daily sessions, but I was eighteen. At the end of the year I'd be gone and hopefully back to Britain and university. How was it possible for an eighteen-year-old, and legally an adult, to be waiting with much younger girls to be punished? Not just punished, but corporal punishment. How I wished now that I had actually read the manual Dad had given me, but he had assured me that it would never happen... not to me at least.
The door opened abruptly and Susan burst out, shutting the door behind her. She was in tears which did not bode well. Her hands were clasped to her bottom and that didn't bode well either. Worse still the rear of her skirt was caught up in her knickers. I couldn't believe it. What on earth had been her punishment?
She looked wildly around for her friend. "Miss Tidy sent Claudia to wait on the other side of the doors at the end of the corridor." She choked out a thank you. "Wait up," I said, and sorted out her skirt. "Was it as bad as you thought?"
She gave me a hard look and replied, "Worse."
My heart sank. I would like to have asked more but the door started to open again and Susan scuttled off still clutching her bottom. Now my heart rate rose. I just didn't know what I was up against or how to respond. This was so outside my experience.
Rottweiler woman emerged with a curiously pleased expression on her face. "Peters, Chloe."
"Here," I drawled as if I didn't care. Trust me, I did.
A sort of strange contortion appeared on her face which I think may have been an attempt to smile. "The headmaster has received an important phone call. Your interview will be delayed. You are to wait here until you are called in."
So, that was what she was pleased about. My suffering was not to end quickly. I went for sarcasm, "You are so kind to inform me." She actually looked disconcerted and retreated back into her kennel.
I was alone again but this time it was worse. There were no other victims and now this part of the school had gone very quiet. It was about forty-five minutes after school had ended and all the activity would now be in the sports facilities and the drama theatre. I sat lonely and yes, I admit it, nervous. Those poor kids clearly had sore bottoms but the rucked-up skirt caught in her knickers bothered me most. The noise of the fans seemed to change and become instead a little chant: 'You're... in... for... it... now'.
I tuned the fans out and thought back to how I'd got into this situation. My dad is an important man in a big multi-national company and we have moved a great deal with his career. The last move was supposed to give me two years to do my A-Levels, then I'd be off to university, and wouldn't care how much they moved. I finished my first year of A-Level and it was in the summer holiday with school still three weeks away (and my eighteenth birthday four weeks away) that Dad told us he was being moved to South America for two years. Apparently, the company's interests there were in a mess and he had to sort it all out and return it to profitability.
"And what about my A-Levels? You promised I'd get a chance to stay put and do them."
"My people have sorted it. We're going to have a lovely house with a gym and an indoor and outdoor pool..."
"Big deal... what about my A -Levels?"
"Three hundred metres up the road from our house is an elite British school for girls. You've always wanted to go to an all-girls' school. My people have talked to them and they have been in touch with your school and they can accommodate your A-Levels exactly. It will all slot together beautifully. You'll have to do a few individual lessons with teachers but in the main it's exactly the same. The school is highly thought of and really is elite. Magnificent sports facilities and you love sport."
I was mollified by this and Dad saw it.
"To add to the attraction, at the other end of the road, only a few hundred metres from our house, is an exclusive and beautiful beach."
"Wow!" Then I was impressed. We were even to have servants for heaven's sake. I could have my own maid if I wanted... I didn't, but that's beside the point. Dad really sold me the whole package. A bonus was the school started back later than my school in England which meant I didn't have to have my eighteenth birthday in term time. It wasn't until we were in our new house that I discovered the two things Dad had carefully hidden. The first was school uniform was compulsory even for the sixth-form. Not just uniform but at eighteen, eighteen right, I would have to wear white socks rather than tights or stockings! A baby uniform and in England, the sixth-form did not have to wear it. The second was the corporal punishment to which all the girls, even the sixth formers, were subject. I went mental.
"You do realise, I suppose, that it is illegal."
"In Britain, and even most of South America, but not here. Local law allows and it certainly doesn't want to interfere with this elite school for foreign girls. But Chloe, it's only the headmaster and..."
"Headmaster! Good grief! What on earth did they think they were doing appointing a man to beat girls?"
"Employment legislation... equal opportunities you see. He was the best candidate."
Of course, local law allowed the school to use corporal punishment but the head was appointed in Britain so British law applied. So, the girls could get whacked by a man. How unfair is that? Dad got busy and persuaded me that it would never happen to me. I was eighteen and a hard-working and responsible girl. It was for the troublemakers, the lazy and those who found settling to work difficult. Not good girls like me.
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