My two sixes from Miss Roberts were among the most memorable of my school disciplinary career, but then come to think of it so were the others, a six with a well-aimed and applied plimsoll was always enough to provide sufficient retribution and a reminder for a couple of days or probably more afterwards.
The fourth stroke landed hard and Mary uttered her first verbal reaction, a sort of muffled ‘ouch’ which I can assure you was an understatement, the fifth after the fifteen-second pause landed in more or less the same place, and forced a groan from the end facing the wall where Mary’s hands would have been clinging for dear life on to the edge of the desk.
At the sixth she did cry out, not surprisingly, and then very slowly got up.
She walked stiffly back, passing my desk on the way.
Without wishing to be noticed by Miss Roberts, I couldn’t avoid lifting my head slightly to give her a reassuring smile, empathy with a friend.