Narrator (Florence)
Miss Donovan had a reputation for baring girls’ bottoms that could only be described as sensuous, the nakedness revealed so slowly and tenderly that it was difficult to comprehend that discipline was to follow. The feeling of vulnerability produced in the miscreant was so physically intense that many girls were on the brink of tears before a single smack had been delivered. The smacking could sometimes even be more pleasurable than disciplinary, at least to begin with, and there is little doubt that Miss Donovan was aware of this.
With boys, whom she disciplined sometimes, it is said that the first smack – when it finally came – could send them over the brink (one reason she never put boys over her lap).
Anna’s complexion reddened and a frown formed as she told me this part of the story and went on to describe the punishment. It was administered with such finesse, first on the backs of her legs and then – just marginally harder – on her bared bottom, that the stinging sensation seemed to emerge and intensify naturally. Miss Donovan’s sensuous administering of strict corporal punishment was so effective that it completely justified its use long after other institutions gave it up, and it belied all the indications Miss Donovan gave of strictness tempered with clemency. For some it might be almost enjoyable, but it was always painful and shaming, as Anna realised as she later stood in the corner.
Anna could barely keep back the tears when the strokes moved up in stages from her legs to her bottom, and Miss Donovan intensified the feeling of suspense by placing the switch against the crown of the poor girl’s behind and gently sliding it across and tapping with it, then withdrawing it for an agonizingly long time before bringing it down again with a sharp flick and a crack that was guaranteed to produce a gasp. With three or four still to be given the floodgates opened and poor Anna was sobbing.
Finally Anna was sent into a corner of the shed that had been prepared as the naughty corner, with mirrors placed strategically to show up the miscreant’s tell-tale features: a red tearful face, trembling hands, and a bottom that would pass for the map of a tram station.
Listening to this part of the story, I had become deeply suspicious of Donnie’s behaviour towards Anna, and felt sure that the lottery had been fixed to ensure a severe punishment: I would bet all my money that all the numbers were the highest and the implements the most severe and painful. It was a clever ruse to show apparent restraint in eschewing the most extreme severity available … 24 not 36 … on this occasion.
I asked Anna whether she had thought to confront Miss Donovan with this suspicion – and if possible to sneak into her room and re-examine the evidence.
“ I did indeed,” Anna told me, “but it did not work out well. I chose a time when I knew Miss Donovan would be absent (I had seen her leaving in her sporty little car). But I was discovered by her hawk-eyed secretary. I was given two options: she would either inform Miss Donovan of my trespassing, or I could do so myself. She handed me a fourth bowl. It had a solitary slip lying at the bottom. I took it and opened it.”
“You can hand that to Miss Donovan when she comes back.”
I asked Anna what followed.
“I never gave Miss Donovan the paper,” she said with a laugh. “I kept it. I still have it.” With that, she put a hand in her pocket and took out a little piece of paper, and handed it to me. “I got away with it.”
I looked hard at Anna. “You cannot leave it like this. It will torment you all your life. … It’s not too late.”
Anna looked at me knowingly. “I know that Flo.”
She showed me the slip and smiled as I read it. (It made me gasp.)
“I’m going to return, Flo, and hand it in. And see.”
*****
Some time later I saw Anna again in our fave café. I asked her about the outcome.
She looked down and fiddled with her spoon and when she looked up again her eyes were wet and her lip was trembling.
“The willow was in season, so ….. .”
“She finished the business, after all this time. She led me back into the garden, handed me the same secateurs, and waited in the woodshed. I knew what to do and did it. The bench was still there, the same one.”
There was a brief pause. Then Anna reached forward and took my hand. “Afterwards Donnie asked after you,” she told me. She would so like to see you. You know you were her favourite. You still are.”
I nodded, knowing that being her favourite came at a price, as favourites usually do.
“For a game of bowls Anna?”
Anna’s premonitory nod said it all. So I made an appointment to visit Miss Donovan when the willow was in season again. I will tell you my own story another time.
Florence
./.