I hurried home. I was late for my tea, but in my house this was passed over with a mild admonition.. “Er, Mrs Hibbard asked me to go back and help her some more after I’ve done my homework,” I said. “Oh really, Archie, I don’t think you can go back there again tonight,” my mother said, rather crossly for her, “You’ve already been late for your meal through dashing over there the minute you came home. You’ll have to stay in tonight.” “But Mum…” I whinged. It was rare for me to be refused anything and I particularly wanted to go, as you may imagine. Luckily Dad intervened. “I think you are being a bit unreasonable, Mavis. Archie is getting to be a big lad and it is not far to the Hibbard’ house. Mrs Hibbard has always been very friendly to Archie and helps us out whenever we want Archie to stay there. I think it’s good he wants to do something in return.” This made me quite the little hero, but, of course, my parents knew nothing of Sarah’s spankings. “All right, “ my mother relented reluctantly under the reasonableness of these arguments, “but don’t be too late home. It’s a school day tomorrow, remember.” Normally I was diligent in my studies, but that evening I raced through my homework, making many careless errors on the way, which earned me a nagging from my Maths master and an unusually low mark in a History test, but nothing worse. As soon as I could I announced I was off to the Hibbard’ house. “Hello, Archie, you’ve soon finished your homework,” Mrs Hibbard said when I arrived. “Er, yes, it was only a few sums and some revision.” I glanced around. No sign of Sarah. “Sarah is doing her homework up in her room,” Mrs Hibbard said, once again following my thoughts. “I’ll give her another ten or fifteen minutes before I call her down.” How slowly time dragged for me, but I guess it must have been even worse for Sarah waiting upstairs for the summons. Ten, twelve, thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds went by before Sarah’s mother stood up and called, “Sarah, come downstairs.” Sarah came. She glanced at me but said nothing. I think she must have known I’d been invited back and had decided to acquiesce in my presence, rather than risk further maternal anger by complaining. She was wearing striped cotton pyjamas and a woolly dressing gown, possibly thinking that these bedtime garments offered most protection—although she must have known from the start that any idea of defence was doomed. Sarah’s mother gave her another long lecture on the evils of bullying and then said, “Right Sarah, go and fetch the clothes brush from the coat closet in the hall.” “The clothes brush! Oh no!” “Oh yes!” When Sarah returned with the clothes brush I saw it was definitely one up on hair brush I had seen used once before.. It was much longer, being almost rectangular in shape apart being rounded at the end opposite the handle. It was made of dark brown wood, highly polished with a patina of great age. It was, I later discovered, something of and heirloom, having belonged originally to Mr Hibbard great-grandfather, so Sarah represented the fourth generation of bottoms to have been whacked by the instrument. She had clearly been punished with it before to judge from the respect with which she handled it. “Please don’t use that on me, Mummy. I promise I’ll never ever bully anyone again.” “Probably not, Sarah, but I think that will be even more likely after you’ve had a dose of this. Now, take off your dressing gown.” “Oooh ,” moaned Sarah but obeyed without further argument. “Now your pyjama trousers—right off!” Sarah sniffed unhappily, but again did not protest as her fingers twitched at the cord. She pulled at the bow and as it loosened the trousers fell to floor around her feet. She stepped clear of them and awaited further instructions from her implacable parent. “We’ll go through to the dining room,” Sarah’s mother announced. We went: Mrs Hibbard first, Sarah second and me bringing up the rear—or rather watching Sarah’s rear! But what next? Sarah and Alison had been memorably switched in this room, but why were we here? Was Sarah to be bent over the polished round table? No. “Fetch those two dining chairs, Sarah,” Mrs Hibbard directed, “and put them so their backs are together. You know how; you‘ve done it before.” Sniffing more loudly, Sarah arranged the chairs as ordered so that there was a clear space around them. “You know what to do next, Sarah.” Sarah knelt on the seat of one chair, leant over so that her tummy rested on the two adjoining backs, and put her hands on the other seat. “Further over than that, Sarah. Grip the edge of the other seat. Don’t try and tuck your bottom out of the way.” Sarah obeyed, adjusting her position so that her bottom now stuck out further. Her mother took up a stance by her left hip. “I am only going to give you six with this, Sarah, “ she announced, “as I spanked you quite soundly earlier.” To judge from Sarah’s expression, she did not think this sentence especially lenient. Mrs Hibbard drew back the brush and then swept it swiftly down so that it smartly smacked against Sarah’s stuck out bottom. “Yeeouch!” screeched Sarah. Another strained wait—and the flat back of the brush printed its shape in crimson. Sarah’s hips twisted left and right and hot tears dripped from her face to the floor. A longer interlude—and wooden block beat against the schoolgirl’s tender skin. This time it took even longer for Sarah to be comparatively still, but then Mrs Hibbard swung the implement in a sharp arc and cracked it again across the defenceless rear of her daughter. By now Sarah was wailing and writhing wildly . Her mother waited a long time for her to settle down a little—and then whacked her really red bottom a sixth and final time. Sarah’s mother allowed her to escape to her bedroom without any corner time . About six or seven years later, when I was studying philosophy at university, I brought up the, ostensibly theoretical, question of whether a parent would be justified in beating her child for bullying a smaller child, since both instances depend on physical, rather than moral, superiority. To my surprise, two thirds of the other students took Mrs Hibbard point of view in the argument.