by Jacqueline Scott
Patricia Burton took her cup of coffee and her magazine and with a sigh sat down at the window. It was a beautiful day, the garden looked lovely, and although it was only just after ten o'clock she could have sat out if she wished. None of that seemed to matter; she was worried and also conscious that this was becoming a regular and increasingly troubling state of mind. As she gazed at the large secluded garden with its own swimming pool, she knew that she lacked for nothing - but maybe that was part of the problem.
She was married to John who was highly successful in one of the arcane bits of London's financial markets that she didn't understand. They had two lovely daughters, Katie, who was 17 and who would be going to university after the summer, and Gemma who was 14. John and Patricia had married as soon as Patricia had graduated from university, and Katie had been conceived and born within the year. Even that had caused no financial hardship as John, ten years older than Patricia, was already very well paid. Patricia had filled her days looking after Katie and the house. They entertained regularly in those early days and Patricia had become a very proficient hostess. The birth of Gemma three years later had not disturbed things, and she also organised family holidays competently and managed to keep grandparents happy.
However, here she was years later, and there was no doubt she was worried. She was worried about the girls. Not that they really gave her huge cause. They were doing well in school and their friends seemed nice with no hint of any of the excesses that teenagers were supposed to indulge in. She was concerned, however, that they had become lazy and rude especially to her and their father. John worked all hours and had always left the discipline of the children to Patricia. He had wanted them to go to a very expensive private school, but on principle she'd fought hard for them to go to the local comprehensive. Until now she had had no regrets but lately she had started wondering... and John, who when he was busy noticed absolutely nothing of what was happening at home, had started muttering 'a private school would not have stood for that tone of voice'. Of course she told the girls off when they were rude or left their rooms in a state, but it generally led to an argument or a shouting match which left her exhausted.
She had confided her worries over coffee to her best friend, Amy Coutts, who had given an instant opinion on what the solution was.
"Spank their bottoms, Pat! A good hard spanking on the bare bottom. That will sort them out! You know they are good girls. They just need a forceful reminder about manners."
Amy had gone on in this vein for some time and Patricia had been worried that other people in the coffee house would hear. After all, spanking was barbaric in this day and age wasn't it? When the girls were small she had given them the odd slap on the thigh when they were naughty, but Amy was suggesting much more than that.
"Do you spank Anne?" Patricia almost whispered the question.
"Rarely now," her friend replied. "At 18 she now seems to understand what is required of her at last. But I have done for years. A table tennis bat applied to her bare bottom from time to time has kept her on the straight and narrow for years, I can assure you."
Patricia could hardly believe it. Anne Coutts was the nicest girl she could imagine. Tall and slim, she was very attractive and the thought of her being punished like that by her mother was something that Patricia found difficult to imagine. In due course they had finished their coffee and went their separate ways.
That had been a week or so ago and Patricia was no further forward in her mind. She looked at her watch and realised that it was time to go into the village to help with the tea and biscuits facility at the local church. This was something that she did most weeks with a neighbour, Evelyn Palmer, and it ended up with them lunching together at one or the other's home. This week it was Evelyn's turn to provide lunch. At least it would take her mind off things. And so it did. She immersed herself in the routine and the morning flew past. After they had cleared up she walked back with Evelyn chatting idly until they reached the large detached house where the Palmers lived. Evelyn poured an unusually large glass of white wine to go with their salad and, noticing Patricia's eyebrows raised a little, apologised.
"Sorry, Pat. Don't drink it all if it's too much, but I need something. I had an unpleasant run in with Carol this morning and it's left me a bit splintered."
Carol was the Palmers' daughter and was the same age as Gemma. Patricia sympathised and said she understood.
"Just her age I think," her friend went on, "but she completely lost it with me this morning over nothing really, and I'm afraid I had to spank her bottom for her."
"Oh!" Patricia exclaimed. "You spanked her?"
Evelyn looked at her, "Yes. I don't do it often but sometimes it's the only thing that brings her to her senses. Don't you spank your two?"
"No... I never have done, but just recently I have been wondering... they can be so rude sometimes."
Her friend nodded. "Well it's up to you of course but I find that it gets it over and done with, no hard feelings afterwards and everything goes back to normal."
They ate their lunch in silence for a while and then Patricia decided to explore further.
"How do you spank her, Evelyn?"
"Either over my knee or over the end of a sofa. I use my hand or a slipper on her bare bottom. How many she gets depends on how far up my nose she's managed to get on that particular occasion." She laughed and then went on, "She hates it of course but she knows by now that there's no use trying to get out of it!"
"You mean she takes down her jeans and underwear herself?"
"Yes. If I have to do it she knows that my temper just gets worse. You've really never spanked either of your two?"
"No, apart from the odd slap on the thighs when they were a lot younger. But... I have to tell you, Evelyn, that I'm really concerned about their behaviour just now. There's nothing outrageous but they are so rude at times and I'm not quite sure where it's leading and what I'm going to do about it."
"Well you have to deal with it in whichever way you can. I would never preach to anybody because everyone is different, but I know that spanking seems to work with Carol."
They dropped the subject at that but Patricia went home that afternoon with a lot to think about.
That night she spoke to John about it while they were getting ready for bed. He was quite matter of fact.
"I was spanked as a boy, Pat, and at school I was caned several times. I don't see what the problem is. If they can't behave then they should be punished. Perhaps you should have started sooner, that's all."
She bristled at that a bit, particularly the 'you should have' and slept with her back to him... but she had to admit to herself that perhaps he was right.
The next morning she rummaged through some old stuff and found an old table tennis bat that she was sure had to be in there. Then she sat down with a coffee and thought carefully about what she would say to the girls. When they came in from school she gave them a few minutes and then called them, saying that she wanted to talk to them in the kitchen. After a minute or so they arrived, giggling about something they'd been saying to each other. Katie immediately spotted the table tennis bat that Patricia had left in the centre of the kitchen table.
"Wow, where did you find that old thing, Mum?!"
"In the cupboard. But never mind that just for the moment, I want a serious talk with both of you." Gemma rolled her eyes. "Yes Gemma, and that sort of expression is exactly why I want to speak to you!" Patricia snapped at her younger daughter as she felt the tension rise. She calmed herself down again and started to speak seriously to them.
"Now listen, your father and I love you dearly and always will. But these past six months or so your behaviour has just not been good enough. You have been rude, especially to your father. You are becoming lazy, you never do anything around the house and your bedrooms degenerate into what I can only describe as disgraceful if nothing is done about them. I know that we employ a cleaner one day a week but Mrs Staines is not here to clean up after you. Things are going to have to change." She paused and looked at them. "Tell me I'm wrong about this. Can you?"
Katie just shrugged while Gemma started to say something and then stopped.
"Well then, I have been talking to some of my friends who have children your age - your friends in fact. And they assure me that the answer is to spank you when you misbehave."
There was a gasp at this and Katie spluttered, "Mum, I'm 17 you can't possibly mean..."
Patricia ignored her and continued, "You know I have never really spanked you but if that is what is needed to get you behaving the way you should, then so be it." She picked up the table tennis bat. "And if a good hand spanking doesn't work then maybe this will!"
The girls stared at the bat as if it was an alien being and Gemma said, "I can't believe you think you will hit me with that thing. I won't have it! I won't!"
"I very much hope I don't need to, Gemma, that's the whole point. You are both perfectly able to behave properly, and if you do there'll be no need for me to do anything... but make no mistake, either of you, if I have to, I will!"
For the next day or so Patricia began to think that her talk had worked. There were no arguments and the girls were perfectly pleasant to each other and their parents. On Thursday evening, she reminded them as they rose from their evening meal that Friday was cleaning day and therefore their bedrooms needed to be in a fit state for Mrs Staines to get in to clean. John had insisted that Patricia have a cleaner, although now that the children were older she didn't think it was really necessary.
On Friday morning she remembered her words to the girls and popped her head into their rooms just as they were about to leave for school. Katie's room was remarkably tidy for her, and Patricia smiled. However, when she opened Gemma's door she gasped. She could hardly see the floor for clothes and bits and pieces.
"Gemma!"
She called downstairs but as she did so the front door banged, and when she reached a window facing the front, the girls were already in the street. Patricia spent a good half hour picking clothes off the floor, some of which she was sure hadn't been worn, and piling books and papers onto a chair so that the floor could be vacuumed. As she did so she quietly seethed.
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