Reality Stings
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Wednesday, 9 April
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It was the kind of bright, airy spring day that felt warm when you were in the sunshine, but made you shiver if you were caught in the shadows, the cold, northerly breeze nipping at your ears and nose. Along the path that led down to the river the cherry trees were in full blossom looking like giant sticks of pink candy-floss.
Vicky walked up the path back towards her maths class and contemplated exactly how much she hated Wednesdays. The day always started with double mathematics. Two and a half hours of maths with a short fifteen minute break in between. When she returned to her desk, she caught Macy, Fay and her other cronies glancing over at her and sniggering.
Macy was the captain of the school netball team and a bit of a bully; a tall girl with long, dark chestnut hair who used her height and natural air of authority to intimidate the other girls. Her small, raison-like eyes glittered darkly as she stared at Vicky over her shoulder, her thin lips stretched into a mirthless grin. Fay, her room-mate and best friend sat next to her. She was smaller and chubbier, her tan skin, glittering black eyes and short, jet-black hair betraying her Asian heritage.
When Lucy opened the top of her old-fashioned wooden desk to retrieve her books, she found the source of their amusement. Someone had scribbled a crude drawing of two naked girls kissing over the green cover of her workbook. Underneath, they'd scrawled some graffiti: "I'm a big, fat lezzer!", "Vicky (heart) Faith", "Vicky is a dirty dyke". The bitches! How had they found out? She was just about to get up and confront them when Mr Lean re-entered.
"Right everyone, break over. Get your books out please."
As Mr Lean resumed the lesson on partial differentiation, she started to tear off small scraps of paper from her pad. Scrunching them into tight, little balls felt good, it seemed to help relieve some of her stress. She waited patiently for Mr Lean to turn back towards the blackboard then launched one of the scrunched-up balls towards Macy's head. Missed! Annoyingly, it fell short but at least the teacher hadn't noticed.
She tried again. This time her aim was better, the paper ball hitting the back of Macy's neck then bouncing off onto the floor.
"Ow!" Macy cried, turning around. Vicky couldn't suppress a grin.
"What's going on?" Mr Lean said, turning back towards the girls.
"Somebody threw something at me Sir! Vicky Sir, she did it!"
"All right, Vicky. Enough now."
"Wasn't me Sir," Vicky said innocently.
"Let's get on shall we?" Mr Lean said, giving her a look that fully conveyed his scepticism.
Vicky tried to concentrate but after a few minutes had passed, she noticed Macy sliding a hand behind her back and, hidden from Mr Lean, making some very un-ladylike gestures with her middle finger. Vicky couldn't resist. She launched another ball of paper with a deft flick of her wrist, like it was a netball, and smiled as it described a perfect arc this time hitting the back of Macy's head then bouncing off in a very satisfying manner.
"Ow! Sir! Tell her Sir!" Macy whined, as the girls around her giggled.
"Vicky! That's enough! Any more of that and it's a detention, understood?"
"Yes Sir, sorry Sir," Vicky simpered, flashing Macy a wicked grin as the teacher turned away.
---
David stared out of the window as he waited for Wicklow to return from the bar. Now that the clocks had gone forward, it was still just about light when they got to the pub. Outside, he watched as the shadows lengthened and the setting sun painted the clouds marmalade orange. He was still thinking about his confrontation with Vicky earlier. He'd had a word with the headmaster on his way out tonight, told him his concerns about Vicky's behaviour, and the head had promised he'd call the girl's mother. Still, running to the headmaster every time he had a problem didn't seem like a proper solution. He was aware he still had a lot to learn. He was still honing his particular teaching style, still trying to learn from the more experienced teachers like Wicklow.
"You look thoughtful," Wicklow said, setting two pints of bitter on the table.
"Yes, there's a girl in my class who's being a bit disruptive. I've just been pondering the best course of action."
"Well you know what I always say."
"Yes, yes, I know, spare the rod, spoil the child. But I can't help wondering if there isn't a better way. I was talking to Annabel at lunch today..."
"Ah, the saintly Miss Hunter. Let me guess: she thinks my methods are barbaric and I'm a brute, hmm?"
"Well, let's just say that she does have a different point of view. She says that she hardly ever resorts to corporal punishment. She says she's able to sort out any issues by sitting down with her students and talking through their differences."
"Yes, well we can't all be touchy-feely, and in touch with our emotions like our very own Mother Teresa. I mean, of course, we all try talking sense into the students, but that won't always work. Not with some of these girls. There has to be a last resort."
"Hmm. Well of course there's always detention or sending the girls to the head."
"Yes, that's all very well, but we can't all just offload our problems onto the head. He's a busy man. Do you think he wants an endless queue of girls outside his study?"
"Well..."
"Listen, I'm just saying that it's much better for everyone involved if you deal with these students yourself. In the long run, they'll respect you for it. I mean, look at me, it's not like I'm disciplining girls every day of the week, far from it. More often than not, just the threat of a spanking is enough to make them behave."
"I suppose so," David said, taking a sip of his pint.
"David, it's not like I'm some sadistic monster looking for excuses to punish these girls but sometimes that's the best way."
"Yes, I know. It's just that resorting to physical punishment feels like failure."
"You know you have to remember that these girls have their problems, they've often been expelled from more lenient schools. And our school is known for it's more strict regime. We're one of the few remaining schools to practice corporal punishment. The girls, their parents, the headmaster: they all expect us to enforce discipline this way. Oh yes, have no doubt, the girls know what to expect if they step out of line."
David nodded but still looked unconvinced.
"Listen, by all means try Miss Hunter's methods," Wicklow said, "but I think that you'll find a little spanking goes a long way."
---
Lady Vanessa Amery poured a few drops of the expensive oil into the hot water of the bath, watching the lazy iridescent swirls and savouring the heady, floral scent. She turned off the taps and was just about the slip off her silk dressing gown when the 'phone started to ring.
"Damn and blast" she muttered, "why does it always ring at the worst possible time?"
She skipped out of the bathroom, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet of the hallway.
"Hello?" she said, picking up the receiver.
"Ah yes, Lady Amery? Is that you?"
