With that warning, my tears re-doubled.
A few other customers looked at me.
I’m pretty sure some of them saw me having my bottom smacked but they said nothing to my mother.
There was a lot more acceptance of this type of discipline in those days, and most of them probably thought I had deserved what I got.
Perhaps in the vain hope that Mum would relent about the smacking back at home, my behavior in the supermarket did then improve.
I had to endure my older sister Lucy teasing and taunting me.
When we got home, we all helped Mother put the shopping away, then she said: “Sarah, go to your room and wait for me.
I promised you a smacked bottom, and that’s what you’re getting.”
I sat on my bed, crying quietly, then a few minutes later Mother came up with the slipper that was kept for these purposes.
As promised, she put me over her knee.
Then she applied the slipper methodically to my bottom.
It was one of the most memorable smacked bottoms I ever got.