Free Whip Hands by C. P. Hazel Page A

explain yourself.’ My voice was barely audible as the girl coolly stood up and took a mock bow. The rest of the class was actually applauding. She was the centre of attention and I felt almost powerless to intervene. But I had to make sure they realised things had gone too far.
    â€˜Well, I’m waiting for an explanation.’ I tried to sound menacing but somehow failed to strike the right note with this group of privileged creatures. I had to resort to banging my fist on the desktop to capture their attention.
    â€˜Lamartine and you other two, come up to the front of the class immediately.’
    While Fiona and Fay approached rather sheepishly, the Lamartine girl made a regal procession of it, accepting plaudits from all sides and looking straight ahead as if demanding obeisance from me, too.
    I had to retain the upper hand.
    â€˜I’m not going to waste time in lecturing you again,’ I stated in a firm but quiet voice. ‘You are all old enough to know this sort of conduct is unacceptable and merits the ultimate disciplinary action.’
    â€˜But, Miss Rose, I was only trying to imagine Marie Antoinette kneeling at the guillotine. The book missed out some important details which I was trying to...’
    â€˜Philomene, enough!’ I shouted in my desperation to shut the girl up before she began more of her theatrical tricks. ‘I shall see you all this time tomorrow and let you know what your punishment is to be.’
    Before she had the opportunity to remonstrate the afternoon bell sounded and I could dismiss the class with even more relief than usual. Now I needed to arrange with the head teacher what the appropriate discipline should be. And it was to Mrs Linacre’s study that I now made my way, at the same time trying to collect my shattered nerves.
    â€˜Well, Miss Rose, how are you progressing with the sixth form?’ boomed Mrs Linacre. She was a large, prepossessing figure who oozed total self-belief. Though not unkind, she could still be overpowering, particularly when seated, as she was now, behind her vast leather-topped desk, flanked by portraits of previous incumbents of this cavernous study.
    â€˜I’m having a bit of trouble, I’m afraid, Mrs Linacre,’ I whispered. Honesty, I decided, was the best policy in this case.
    â€˜Is it the Lamartine girl, by any chance?’
    I was taken aback.
    â€˜I’m not surprised,’ she continued. ‘That girl has always been a very bad influence on the rest of the class. I put it down to that early education she had on the continent. Over there, you know, young ladies’ establishments have an entirely different notion of discipline.’
    I gave Mrs Linacre a brief account of what had just happened in class. She made no reply but immediately opened a drawer in her desk and, reaching over, handed me a small key attached by a chain to a curious leather fob.
    â€˜You know what this is?’ she hissed, looking straight into my eyes. ‘I think not. It is the key to the punishment cupboard in the staff common room. After last afternoon class tomorrow, take the three offenders there for suitable retribution.’
    â€˜But that seems very extreme, head teacher. I thought they would be given a verbal admonishment by you,’ I stammered, beginning to feel slightly light-headed.
    â€˜Three strokes of the strap to each of them, Miss Rose. That will be the appropriate deterrent. I shall be there to ensure that everything goes smoothly.’ Mrs Linacre lowered her voice a decibel or two. ‘I take it that, having come over from the state sector only recently, you have no experience of administering corporal punishment?’
    Unaccountably blushing and shifting on the hard seat, I admitted I had never given nor received the tawse. Although the headmistress refrained from comment, I sensed the implication that, in her view, an essential part of my education had been omitted.
    â€˜Well, never