Aunt Brenda was the sort of grown-up who could be both jolly and terribly strict, all at once! She had a twinkle in her eye and wore the most marvellous, colourful frocks, and her hair was always perfectly straight, just like the heroines in the best adventure stories. When she laughed, it was as if the whole room filled with sunshine, and you’d think she was the kind of aunt who would let you eat as many biscuits as you liked and stay up late reading by torchlight. (short pause)
But, oh my, when Aunt Brenda was cross, you could feel it in the air! Her eyes would go quite serious, and her voice would become very firm indeed. She would stand up straight, and suddenly she seemed much taller, almost as if she could see right through you. Even the bravest of us would stop giggling and sit up straight, for we all knew that Aunt Brenda meant what she said. (short pause)
Aunt Brenda had one daughter, Sandra, who was just my age, and we were the best of chums. We loved to play together, inventing all sorts of games and sometimes, I must admit, getting into a spot of mischief. But there was one rule in Aunt Brenda’s house that was as unbreakable as the rules at Malory Towers: absolutely no grown-up drinks, not even a sip! Aunt Brenda was quite certain that such things led to all sorts of bother, and she made it clear that her house was a place for lemonade, ginger beer, and nothing stronger.
The rules were simple: if you misbehaved in Aunt Brenda’s house, you were dealt with at once, or you had to go home and not come back for a while. I remember one particular evening in 1968, when Sandra and I decided to have a little adventure. We sneaked out, giggling, and found ourselves in a place we really oughtn’t to have been—a grown-ups’ pub! We managed to get a glass of something fizzy and rather naughty, even though we were much too young. Not only did we stay out past our bedtime, but we broke Aunt Brenda’s most important rule.
When we finally tiptoed home, we found Aunt Brenda waiting for us, looking ever so stern. Her eyes flashed, and we knew at once that we were in for it. She soon discovered that we had not only come home late, but had also tasted grown-up drinks! Her face was thunderous, and Sandra and I felt as small as field mice. Sandra, who knew her mother’s ways better than I did, looked at me with wide eyes. It had been ages since I’d been in trouble at Aunt Brenda’s, and I had quite forgotten how strict she could be.
Aunt Brenda told us, in no uncertain terms, that we were in very big trouble indeed. She gave us a proper telling-off about our naughtiness—sneaking out, drinking things we shouldn’t, and coming home late. She made it especially clear that the grown-up drinks were the worst of all, and that such behaviour would not be tolerated in her house. Then she told Sandra that she would have to face the consequences, and out came the dreaded leather strap from the drawer. It looked most fearsome, and poor Sandra was ever so frightened.
“Prepare yourself, Sandra,” Aunt Brenda said, and she placed a chair in the middle of the room.
The room suddenly felt very small and quiet. Sandra’s hands shook as she bent over the chair, and Aunt Brenda stood behind her, looking very serious indeed. The sound of the strap coming out of the drawer was enough to make anyone’s knees knock together! (short pause) Aunt Brenda raised her arm, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. Then came the sharp sound of the strap, and Sandra let out a little yelp. Aunt Brenda was very firm, but she never lost her composure. She gave Sandra ten quick smacks, each one as brisk as the last. By the end, Sandra was in tears, and I felt dreadfully sorry for her. (pause)
“Stand up, Sandra,” Aunt Brenda said kindly, and Sandra did so, wiping her eyes.
Then Aunt Brenda turned to me. Her eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. She told me that I could either accept the same punishment or I would not be welcome at her house any longer. I didn’t hesitate for a moment—I wanted to stay friends with Sandra, and after all, I had been just as naughty.
I was told to bend over the chair, and I did so at once, my heart thumping like a drum. The seat felt cold, and I could hardly breathe for nerves. Aunt Brenda took her time, making sure I was ready. (short pause)
The first smack stung dreadfully, and I gasped. Before I could recover, the next one landed, and then another, until there were ten in all. Aunt Brenda was very fair—she never lost her temper, but she made sure I understood the seriousness of what I had done. By the end, my eyes were prickling with tears, and my legs felt quite wobbly. When Aunt Brenda told me to stand, I was ever so relieved, though the sting lingered for a while. (pause)
Aunt Brenda gave us one last lecture before sending us off to bed. She reminded us, very firmly, that grown-up drinks were never to be touched in her house, and that if we ever broke the rule again, the consequences would be even more serious. As Sandra and I climbed the stairs, she gave me a quick hug. “Sorry I got us into trouble,” she whispered. “It wasn’t your fault,” I replied. “We were both in it together.”
The next morning, we were on our very best behaviour, and Aunt Brenda acted as though nothing had happened at all. That was the last time Sandra and I ever got into trouble together. As we grew older, we made new friends and went on different adventures, but I shall never forget that night—the lesson we learned, the kindness Aunt Brenda showed us afterwards, and the special bond it left between Sandra and me. What a jolly adventure it was, even if it did end with a bit of a sting!
