LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

his eyes dart left to right along the paper. The clock gonged stridently in the background. He folded the note and sat thoughtfully with one hand touching his elbow and the other stroking his chin. Finally, after an interminable amount of time, he regarded me.

      ‘Well, well, Charles. I see you have been a naughty boy.’ He spoke quietly.

      I stood with my heart in my mouth and nodded.

      ‘Mr Brown has written that he has punished you from the school’s point of view but wishes me to enforce my own personal reprimand as I see fit.’

      I gulped and bit my lip to stop me from crying.

      ‘What exactly did he do?’

      I lowered my trousers and turned around so that my father could see the welts. They were raised and red and the bruising was just starting to appear. I heard a sharp intake of breath and for a moment I felt a brief surge of hope that he might grab his stick and batter Mr Brown black and blue. I knew my father’s strong conviction on physical discipline and my spirits rose. The goblins would have nothing on my father’s ire. I re-buttoned the trousers and looked at him with hopeful anticipation. However, I was wrong. He stared at me with a myriad of emotions fleeting over his face, then sighed.

      ‘That looks painful, son, but the shame you bring to the Fenton name cuts me deeper still. You represent this family whenever you engage with other members of our community. It is your responsibility to maintain that good name at all times. It saddens me to think you could break the school rules so blatantly and not only that, but also talk back to the headmaster. Whatever were you thinking?’

      I stood silently, sombre in mood.

      ‘I stand by Mr Brown’s punishment and will endorse his recommendation of my own personal punishment.’

      He pulled a box down from the bookcase shelf and placed it in front of me on his desk.

      ‘In this box is a brand-new edition of The Boys Own book by William Clark that I had purchased in London with the specific intent of giving it to you for your birthday. I know how much you have been wanting it and your mother and I felt you were old enough to get one this year. But now, after your little debacle, it is with the greatest of regret that I will have to return it.’

      I cringed. I had been bothering them about the book for some weeks now. It had everything a boy would want to know about combustion in and under the water, how to change a card into a bird, plus my personal favourite, the art of hideous metamorphosis. I could use all of these skills to my greatest advantage. I salivated at the thought that the book was within arm’s reach of me and was now going to be taken away. Life was very, very unfair.

      ‘I will tell your mother that the book was unavailable. We shall not inform her about your poor behaviour. It would break her heart to know her boy was a heathen.’

      The shame washed over me in a flood. If I could do anything to make things right with my father again, I swore to myself I would do it. He was a magnificent and wise man and I had let him down. My gratitude at his discretion was immense and I solemnly apologised and promised to never be naughty ever again. I watched sadly as he put the book back on the shelf. He hugged me briefly and dismissed me.

      I plodded up the stairs to my room. Thankfully my mother seemed to be visiting her friend Magda and this enabled me to have a good wallow without her finding out. I had to lie on my stomach as my behind was throbbing and hot. Rivers of self-pity let loose and the dams broke as I cursed Mr Brown for his malevolence. I punched my pillow, visualising his face lying on top of it and in my fervour I accidentally caught the edge of the brass bedstead, making me bellow in agony. Meg came running in.

      ‘What’s happened, Charlie? What did you do to yourself?’ she asked, scanning me for injury.

      ‘Mr Brown is a horrible old toad and I hate him!’ I exclaimed, rubbing my hand angrily.

      ‘Your headmaster? Why would you ever hate him?’ She drew my hand to her mouth and blew on it.

      ‘He hit me, Meg! He hit me over and over with a gigantic cane.’

      Meg gasped. She had never heard of anyone being allowed to hurt me in that way. I could tell her heart ached at the thought of her little Charlie being punished. We had a secret friendship that had grown. I was called Master Charles in front of my parents and she was Nanny, but it would quickly revert back to Meg and Charlie in the privacy of my room. She was like my second mother and I loved her as dearly as my parents. The feeling seemed warmly reciprocated.

      ‘Why did he do that, Charlie? That’s awful.’

      ‘All I did was show a little mouse to Lily. It was hers and I was going to give it back but she cried and the teacher caught me with it.’ The truth as I saw it.

      Meg was indignant.

      ‘That horrible little girl. I told you to be careful with her. She has something not right in her head.’

      I nodded sagely. In hindsight, my Meg was obviously right.

      ‘I’ll go get my balm and put it on your wounds. It will make it feel much better.’ She dashed back to her room and returned with a pot of ointment in her hands. ‘Right. Show me where it hurts.’

      I hesitated. Even though Meg had changed my diapers and bathed me most of my life, I had required her help no longer and had not shown my nudity for some time. I reddened.

      ‘Master Charles. Drop your drawers. You have nothing to be ashamed of with me,’ she remonstrated. ‘Come and lie on the bed.’

      She sat on the bed and patted her knee impatiently. I crawled over and whilst lying on my stomach, inched my trousers down. The cool air soothed my pink cheeks. She sucked in her cheeks sharply upon looking at the stripes and then set to work gingerly applying the soothing balm. She had a delicate touch and her soft sympathetic murmurings as she continued were music to my ears. She was so earnest in her desire not to cause me any more pain that I relaxed and enjoyed the whole sensation more than I realised. It was only when I felt something in my groin that I came to the horrid conclusion of what was happening to me. Meg noticed my body stiffen straight away and I hurriedly pulled my pants up whilst she watched bemused. She was an earthy girl and thought nothing of it, but, demurring to my embarrassment, she excused herself and left the room.

      Burning at both ends, I was left to consider how wretched the day had been with the dawning realisation I had to face my classmates tomorrow.

      

      The sun blazed merrily above me whilst I took the arboreous walk towards school. The peaceful leaves danced gracefully around me, almost begging me to climb their trunks. But I walked the mile to school determined not to be distracted. I was a soldier who had experienced pain like no other, and, with my chin jutted out and my chest puffed, I was prepared to become a man. My father would be proud to call me his son. I had erred, this was true. But I had taken my punishment and now it was time to move on and put it all behind me. The sooner this day passed the better.

      Meg had offered me an old nappy to pad my bottom for sitting on the class chair. But, being the man that I was, I declined. Pain was what I deserved and it would be good for me, I thought stoically, imagining myself in full army regalia standing proudly on a mountain with the wind sweeping through my hair. No Fenton would EVER lower themselves to returning to a nappy when times were tough. I sniffed. We were made of sterner stuff.

      So I strutted to school and proudly ignored the whispering of the girls as they glanced over at me. I showed the boys the red marks as they oohed and aahed at my seemingly cavalier attitude. I regaled my friends with the thrashing I had received, whipping them into a frenzy about the monster that was Mr Brown and how I had barely flinched when he had beaten me. Mr Brown transformed into a spitting horned demon with rotting foul breath, who, try as he might, could not break my spirit.

Скачать книгу