I didn’t keep count – I was too busy trying to hold back the tears I could feel forming, and it seemed like that spanking was never going to stop. But then suddenly it did and I was being lifted back on my feet and my underpants and shorts were being pulled up, just as I couldn’t hold back a sob any longer.
Mrs Gibbs marched me straight over to the sofa, sat me down, sat down beside me and put her arm round me while I gulped and sniffed and tried to stop the tears.
From somewhere, she had found a clean handkerchief (certainly not from my pocket!) which she used to dab at my tears. Once I had calmed down a little, she gently explained that I had been naughty but that she wasn’t really cross with me and anyway, it was all over now.
Then she leaned close and whispered in my ear. “And don’t worry about the tears. Andrew cried too – but don’t let on you know.”
Somehow, that conspiratorial whisper cheered me up and when I looked up, Mrs Gillingham was smiling. A few minutes later, Andrew came back in the room. Both of us saw each other’s tear-reddened eyes. We gave each other sheepish grins – then this time we did play quietly until we were called in to the dining room for tea.
Andrew told me later that he reckoned we must have really pulled a classic one because his mother never normally spanked that hard or gave so many whacks. But I had a great deal of respect for that slipper after that!