Free Whip Hands by C. P. Hazel Page B

mind, Miss Rose,’ she continued, getting to her feet. ‘Unless there are any other questions we’ll meet up for a nice cup of tea in the common room tomorrow after you’ve dealt with those three troublemakers. If for any reason I am delayed, just take advice from one of the other members of staff present. Remember, do not let compassion get the better of you. In this case the gale should not be tempered to the shorn lamb.’
    Mrs Linacre’s parting advice still boomed in my ears as I scurried away from her closed door.
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    The next day, somewhat to my surprise, the Lamartine girl did wait behind. Being easily led by her, Fiona and Fay did so too. The rest of the class filed out reluctantly, with many whispered exchanges and backward looks. Clearly the word had spread and there was a palpable tension in the air. I felt I had somehow risen in their estimation. Though nervous myself, I was determined to go through with it.
    â€˜Right, the three of you follow me to the common room.’
    I packed up my books and lowered the desk lid with a decisive flourish. The girls followed me down the corridor to the staff common room. I opened the door and was almost blinded by the rich amber light streaming through the leaded panes that overlooked a private garden.
    To my surprise the wood-panelled room was empty, although cigarette smoke was still wafting visibly between the leather chairs. I was taken aback. Mrs Linacre had committed herself to attending in person and I therefore hoped she would save me from having to administer punishment. It was, after all, my first time, whereas I suspected that the Lamartine girl at least was an experienced offender.
    I had expected support from other members of the all-female staff who, at this time of the day, were usually to be found unwinding over cups of tea and digestives. But there was not a soul, a situation rapidly assessed by one of the trio behind me, whispering, ‘They’ve all scarpered early.’
    I took a few steps forward and turned to face the three girls. Fiona and Fay looked decently cowed at the prospect of their strapping, but Philomene was her usual antagonistic self. She closed on me with a look of triumph.
    â€˜According to regulations the headmistress or senior staff member must be present at punishment,’ she said lightly, giving what appeared to me a mocking look.
    â€˜Well, there you’re quite wrong, Miss Know-it-all,’ I burst out. ‘I spoke to Mrs Linacre yesterday during the afternoon break. She confirmed that three strokes for each of you would be the minimum punishment appropriate to your breaches of discipline and authorised me to go ahead.’
    There was a stunned silence; my confidence rose immeasurably.
    â€˜But, Miss Rose, I think the punishment cupboard is locked.’ This was Fay, in a tremulous voice that was suddenly bright at the prospect of a last-minute hitch.
    â€˜Hope dwells eternal in the human heart, Fay. But I’m afraid that for the next few minutes hope will need to move house. See, here is the key to the cupboard.’
    I produced the key Mrs Linacre had given me from the pocket of my three-quarter-length worsted skirt.
    It was only the work of a moment to unlock the glass-fronted mahogany cabinet that was a principal feature of the common room. So far, this had always been locked during my stay at Camilla Bancroft. The pungent odour of seasoned leather wafted into the room, mingling with the stale tobacco air and causing me to shiver for some reason that I tried to distance from my conscious mind.
    My hand went towards the stiff, twin-leafed tawse I had previously noted through the glass. I couldn’t help noticing also within the punishment cupboard a selection of canes of various lengths. Paddles and tawses were hanging on individual hooks, but these more vicious implements were lying loosely on the floor of the cupboard, invisible when the doors were closed. They seemed