The younger girl, Caroline, and I were like peas in a pod – she was a real tomboy and between us, we terrorised the neighbourhood.
We would take turns going to visit and stay at each other’s homes during the summer break as we lived around 100 miles apart. I was to stay for the week AT CAROLINES
We were always up to something. One time, we decided to build a fort out of old cardboard boxes in the garage. It was our secret hideout, and we spent hours decorating it with markers and stickers. We even made a flag out of an old pillowcase.
Another day, we found some old paint cans in the shed and thought it would be a great idea to paint the garden fence. We ended up with more paint on ourselves than on the fence, and my aunt was not pleased when she saw the mess we had made.
We also loved playing pranks on the neighbours. Once, we filled a bucket with water and balanced it on top of the front door. When Mr. Thompson, the neighbour, came over to return a borrowed tool, he got drenched. We thought it was hilarious, but my aunt made us apologize and clean up the mess.
Our favourite game was pretending to be spies. We would sneak around the house, eavesdropping on the adults and writing down “secret” messages in our notebooks. We even had code names for each other – I was “Agent P” and Caroline was “Agent C.”
Despite all the trouble we caused, those summers were the best times of my childhood. We were partners in crime, always looking for the next adventure.
Caroline’s mother was a stern woman with a no-nonsense attitude. Her piercing blue eyes and sharp features made it clear that she was not someone to be trifled with. Despite her strict demeanor, there was a sense of fairness in her punishments, and she always made sure we understood the consequences of our actions.
The spankings were a ritual of sorts. My aunt believed in the old-fashioned way of discipline, and the hairbrush was her tool of choice. Each swat was delivered with precision, and the sting was unforgettable. The sound of the hairbrush meeting our skin was sharp and echoed through the room, a reminder of the rules we had broken.
After the spankings, we were always sent to our rooms to reflect on our actions. The time alone was meant for us to think about what we had done and how we could avoid such punishments in the future. It was a time of solitude and contemplation, and though it was painful, it was also a lesson in responsibility and consequences.
My aunt’s method was strict, but it was also effective. We learned to respect the boundaries set for us and understood that our actions had repercussions. The spankings, though harsh, were a part of our upbringing that instilled a sense of discipline and respect in us.
It was a warm summer, although mixed with some rain. We had the chance to play in the back garden and on this one particular sunny day, we had changed into our swimming costumes and were playing with the garden hose, running around and soaking everything in sight, including ourselves.
We played a game with a frisbee – one held the hose while the other threw the frisbee at them. The idea was to deflect it with the water. Like all games, things got a little out of hand and eventually the frisbee ended up going over a fence at the bottom of the garden and onto the neighbouring railway line.
Now, we were absolutely forbidden to go on the railway as it was not only a busy line but also electrified, with a live third rail. For a while, we stood looking at the frisbee and debating what to do about it. Then the ‘I dare you’ aspect came into it. Caroline dared me to get the frisbee.
Checking the coast was clear, I climbed over the fence in the corner of the garden (where I was out of view of the house), scrambled down the railway embankment and retrieved the frisbee. Caroline followed my lead, sliding down after me.
We climbed back up the embankment and I had just started to scale the garden fence when my aunt appeared from around the garage and caught us red-handed. As we climbed back over the fence, we both knew we were in big trouble.
We were ordered back into the house, closely followed by my very angry aunt, ranting on about how we could have been killed wearing wet bathing costumes near electric rails etc.
Caroline obviously knew she was going to get a jolly good smacked bottom – she began to plead with her mother not to do it now but wait until I returned home later that week.
Once inside, the lecture continued. My aunt told me my parents had entrusted me into her keeping and had given her permission to punish me in any way she saw fit if I stepped out of line.
We stood there, with our heads hung down. My aunt disappeared for a moment – only to reappear with a wooden hairbrush. The hairbrush was large, with a dark, polished wooden handle and thick bristles. It looked heavy and intimidating, and I didn’t know quite what to expect but Caroline started to plead as soon as she saw that hairbrush – to no avail.
My aunt then asked us who was going first. I thought that was kind of a stupid question but I said I would. Because I was still wet, my aunt told me to bend over the back of the sofa, which I did.
Wow! She really blistered my bottom. I was allowed the protection of my swimming costume but I swear it didn’t make any difference – each swat made me cry out. I was in agony and still it seemed to go on until finally, crying and holding my newly red hot bottom, I was told to stand.
Caroline was then ordered over the sofa.
The first whack seemed to echo around the room, then the second, third and so they fell. My cousin’s bottom looked like it had been scalded and a dark, red bruise began to appear on her uncovered cheek where the first whack had landed.
Caroline’s punishment continued until her mother finally said: “Right, you two – get upstairs and change into some decent clothes. I don’t want to hear a peep from you for the rest of the day.”
