“Well,” Auntie Deirdre, now looking me right in the eye.
“It sounds to me like somebody needs his bottom smacked.”
My mouth opened in protest but no words would come.
“Yes, he does,” Mother confirmed behind me to my horror.
The room was a combined lounge-diner.
Auntie Deirdre got up, took a chair from under the dining table, and placed it in the center of the room, facing Mum’s wheelchair.
Auntie Deirdre sat down on it, put the hairbrush down on her lap, and called me to her side – which I did very reluctantly.
“A good smacked bottom !” Auntie Deirdre said, looking me straight in the eye again.
“This is what naughty boys need, isn’t it?”
That was another one that didn’t need an answer from me.
She picked up the hairbrush.