by Jacqueline Scott
The pale-faced girl stood outside the dark wooden door waiting to be called. There was nowhere for her to sit and she occasionally leaned against the wall, only to stand up straight again almost at once, as if she thought that somebody was watching her. She knew why she was outside the room and desperately wished that she hadn't been so stupid earlier that day.
Inside the room Pamela Jameson, Deputy Head of Collingwood's, a small but exclusive private school for girls in the south of England, and Cecily Larsson, the PE and Games mistress, were discussing what to do about the girl.
"She tripped the other girl deliberately, Cecily? And the umpire sent her off? Goodness, I mean, I'm not an expert on hockey by any means, but I imagine she deserved that?"
"Yes she did. It was so blatant. Amelia had been struggling the whole game to cope with the St. Mary's winger, and this time after the girl had gone past her she just stuck out a foot and tripped her. If it had been part of an attempt at a tackle it wouldn't have merited anything more than a foul, but to be honest Miss Jameson, I don't think I have seen anything so blatant in all my years taking hockey. The poor St. Mary's girl had a rather nasty graze on her leg."
"I see. Well what are we to do with her? Does the Schools' Hockey Association get involved?"
"No, it's left to the individual schools to sort out. Mary Fullerton of St. Mary's asked me what we would do and I told her I would bring it up with you. She seemed happy enough with that."
Outside the door Amelia Chalmers shifted yet again from one foot to the other. Eventually her wait ended and Miss Larsson appeared and ushered her into the room. The Deputy Head stared at her for a little while as if she was making up her mind what to say. Then at last she spoke.
"Well Amelia, let me tell you my understanding of this matter. This morning when playing for the school against St. Mary's, you tripped one of your opponents, causing her to tumble and graze her leg quite badly. I understand that it was a deliberate trip and the umpire felt that she had no alternative but to dismiss you for the rest of the match. Now please tell me if I have anything wrong."
Amelia gulped and struggled to speak. It was as if her mouth had suddenly dried up and wouldn't work properly. Eventually however she managed to make herself say, "No Miss. That's what happened. I'm really dreadfully sorry. I don't know what came over me ... it just sort of happened. I am so sorry."
Miss Jameson gazed at her again for a while as if trying to assess the truth in the apology. Then she nodded and spoke again.
"You must have been wondering why Miss Larsson and I have taken so long to see you. The fact of the matter is that neither of us can recall such a thing ever happening to a Collingwoods' girl before. You see Amelia, hockey is a sport and as such must always be played in a sporting manner. What you have admitted doing cannot be accepted in any way. Not only have you let yourself down, you have also let your team down and indeed you have let the whole school down. You must realise that."
By now Amelia was close to tears and she nodded and whispered, "Yes Miss, I'm so, so sorry."
"Good. Well I am glad to say that you are not one of the girls whom I see here regularly, so your punishment will be perhaps a little more lenient than it otherwise might have been. You will be confined to the school premises for the next two weeks." She paused at that, glanced down at a piece of paper on her desk, and then continued. "In addition, to reinforce the message that what you did was completely unacceptable I am going to slipper your bottom. I will give you three with the slipper over your knickers. Have you anything else to say?"
"No Miss. Thank you."
The sixth former had thought for an instant that all that was going to happen was that she was to be 'gated' which would have been beyond her wildest dreams. Even a slippering was less than she had feared.
Miss Jameson took a slipper (in reality more of a plimsoll) from her desk drawer and stood up.
"Right. Bend across that chair and hold onto the lower rail. Miss Larsson, can you lift the girl's skirt right up her back please and hold it there. It won't take long."
Within barely a minute Amelia was bent over the seat, the Games mistress at her head holding the hem of her skirt thus allowing the Deputy Head to gaze at a firm bottom encased in a pair of white cotton panties, above which a bare back stretched towards a white bra strap.
"Please do not try and stand up Amelia. It will only make things take longer."
Then Miss Jameson placed one hand on the girl's back, raised her other hand high and brought the plimsoll down hard. It struck the centre of the left cheek, making an impressive sound: THWACK! After a pause of just a few seconds the second blow struck the right cheek. THWACK! Amelia squealed. She couldn't help it. The teacher took no notice, however, and within seconds the plimsoll landed for the third and final time. THWACK! This time it struck the girl squarely on the middle of her bottom, straddling the two cheeks, and evoked a yell from Amelia. Once again, Miss Jameson simply ignored the sound.
"You may get up now, Amelia. I hope this has been a salutary lesson to you and that I will not see you here again in such circumstances."
The girl nodded her assent and quickly left the room, pausing outside to rub her bottom vigorously.
Several hours later, around five o'clock, Denise Wilson was walking along a corridor on the first floor of the main school building where at that point one side opened on to the well of the school main hall. The hall was used by girls as a route from one side of the building to the other, as a meeting place and also, more formally, for school assemblies. During the latter the majority of the staff stood in this upper corridor where they could see down into the hall from three sides.
On this occasion Denise was simply moving from one part of the building to another. The youngest teacher at the school, she now felt that she was becoming established as a member of staff who was respected by colleagues and pupils alike. She had found the transition to work life quite difficult, especially as she had in fact gone straight from being a pupil at Collingwoods' to university, teacher training college and then back to the same school. Late on this Saturday afternoon she was at peace with herself and looking forward to the evening.
"You lost us that match, you stupid cow! Get out of my sight before I thrash you!"
The angry voice echoed around the hall and up to where Denise was walking. Quickly she moved to the rail and looked over. Down below, among a group of girls, a red-faced Amelia Chalmers was facing another girl. Before Denise could call down, Amelia slapped the other girl hard across the face and in an instant the two began to struggle.
"Stop that at once! Stop it, do you hear!"
Denise shouted down and then ran to the corner and down the stairs that led to the hall. By the time she arrived the two girls were on the floor while another three were vainly trying to separate them from each other. By the time she reached the group the two girls were on the floor wrestling with each other.
"STOP THAT NOW!"
Denise had never shouted so loudly in all her short teaching career but at least it had the required effect, and soon the two girls had disentangled themselves and stood up. They were both dishevelled and Amelia had a long scratch down one cheek, while the other girl, Jean Formby, had a scarlet cheek where she had been slapped, and a slight cut on her lip. They both tried to avoid the white-faced teacher's gaze.
"I never thought for a minute I would find two sixth formers fighting like a pair of alley cats! How dare you behave like that! Do you have ANY possible excuse for such behaviour?"
The girls stared at the ground for a while and then Jean muttered, "No Miss. I'm sorry."
This was immediately followed by an identical apology from Amelia. Miss Wilson stared at them, her mind working hard as she tried to decide what to do next.
"Go and stand against that wall while I decide what to do with you. And make sure there is at least six feet between you in case you have any stupid ideas about starting again."
As the two girls walked away she turned to the other four or five who were still gathered round.
"Well, what was that about? I heard Jean from upstairs but not what happened next."
"Please Miss, Amelia was sent off in the hockey match this morning and Jean blamed her for them losing."
"Yes, I heard that ... and Amelia slapped her face. Anything else?"
Another girl piped up, "Well Jean shoved her first. I think that's why she slapped her."
After another few minutes Denise decided she had more or less the whole story. It was clear to her that there was no way she could deal with this herself so she escorted the two culprits to a classroom and told them to stay in there while she reported the matter to Miss Jameson. That took a little while given that it was late on a Saturday afternoon, but eventually she tracked her down as she was coming back into school from the car park. She had only gone a little into the matter when the Deputy Head stopped in her tracks.
"They did what? Pushing and slapping? Oh for goodness sake Denise, what sort of girls are we getting here these days? That is simply not good enough! And I've punished the Chalmers girl today already for the hockey business! Who would believe it? Right, give me five minutes and then bring them along to my room. If they don't have a magical excuse, neither will be sitting down tonight!"
The two teachers went their separate ways, the Deputy Head towards her study and Denise to the classroom where she had left the girls. She found them sitting in silence and glowering ... not at each other, more at themselves as if they realised that they were in deep trouble and largely had themselves to blame.
If that was the case it was reinforced when a little while later they were standing in front of Miss Jameson. Having extracted from them both that they had no acceptable excuse for their behaviour the Deputy Head became quite scathing.
"You are a disgrace! If you had been a pair of first formers, I might have thought that you didn't know any better! Even fourth formers might forget themselves in the midst of their teenage angst. But you are supposed to be almost adults ... you are supposed to set an example to others ... to be the crème de la crème as Muriel Spark's heroine would have said. Are you like that? No ... you want to roll around on the ground hitting each other. You are pathetic!"
The two girls quailed under this verbal assault.
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