The following account concerns events that took place in the first half of my fourth year at a prestigious independent boarding school. At the time I was thirteen years old, being two years younger than most of my classmates.
Fourth Form was an unusual year at my school, because we only spent a small part of the year at the school itself. Up in the mountains the school had built a cross between a school and a camp, and we spent nearly our entire Fourth year at this mountain home, only returning to the main school as a group occasionally. All of us went - even boys who were normally day boys became full boarders for this one year as it was considered a very important part of our school experience. It was quite a different experience from the rest of our schooling - among other things there was a lot less corporal punishment in the mountains - discipline was of a different type there.
But we did come back down occasionally, and the first time I can recall us all coming down that year was for Easter - which was also our half term break. We had a three term year, divided by roughly two weeks of holidays between first and second and between second and third term (and a much longer set of summer/Christmas holidays between years), and in the middle of every term we had a shorter break that was around a week in length, so boarders could hopefully see their families reasonably often.
In our actual school holidays, nearly all boys left the school - there were always some who didn't have anywhere to go - in my own case, I didn't have any family, and there were other boys in somewhat similar situations, or who simply lived too far away. The school used to make arrangements for us in the school holidays - there were always plenty of families who were willing to give a boy a place to go, but for half term, things were a little different. Quite a few boys stayed at the school over half term - if boys homes were reasonably close, they certainly could go home, and often even if they didn't go home, their parents would come and see them and take them (and often their friends as well) off on day trips.
For this particular half term - which was going to be just over a week long, which was typical for our Easter break - the plan was for me to spend most of that week with the family of my best friend, William Connolly. It would later become a pattern for me to stay with the Connolly's during school breaks, but that practice hadn't yet developed. In a real sense, over time, the Connolly's became fairly close to surrogate parents for me. Our friend, Rupert Strathvayne was also coming with us for this break. His family lived in England and it was totally impractical for him to go home in the short mid-term breaks.
But we didn't leave for the Connolly's immediately - we came down from the mountains on the Thursday before Easter, and Mr Connolly was going to drive up and fetch us early on Saturday evening. The reason for the delay was that we had all been invited to the Saturday afternoon Birthday Party of one of our classmates, and we felt obliged to attend. I don't mean that we didn't want to go - but there was more to it than just wanting to attend the party. This boy was one who some other boys at the school went out of their way to treat as - well, somewhat inferior to the rest of us. And none of us liked that.
Eric Benedict was, normally, a day boy at the school - although for this year, as I have mentioned, he was boarding with the rest of us up in the mountains. He had come to the school at the start of third form - which was in itself, unusual - as what some boys unkindly called a 'refugee'. He was one of a number of boys from the area surrounding the school who had been given very generous scholarships so they could attend our very expensive school. The term refugee was used to describe them, because most of these boys (not all) had previously attended the local government high school, and many of us saw them as fleeing from that school towards our own.
Our school was very expensive and very prestigious. Most (though not quite all) boys at the school came from wealthy backgrounds, and some (and I stress only some and not all) were genuine snobs, and they tended to feel that these boys did not belong in the school. Most of us were not prejudiced in this way, but enough were that it was a real problem, and we wanted to do what we could to change that.
And that was part of the reason while William, Rupert, and myself decided we had to attend this party. William and I were the sons of Old Boys who were often held up as examples of the men the school wanted to produce - for different reasons, but it meant we were very much seen by the snobs as truly belonging to the school. Rupert, on the other hand had something else going for him that the snobs took very seriously.
He was Lord Rupert Strathvayne, a title that came to him courtesy of his father, and that was something the snobs took very seriously indeed. And to be honest, in many ways, Rupert was a snob himself - the difference was that he wasn't prejudiced against other people under normal circumstances. Most of the time.
This was only part of the reason we went to the party. But it was part of the reason. And we weren't the only boys from the school who went - it's just I can't speak to the motivations of anyone else. Presumably by going they showed they weren't prejudiced, but I'm not sure if that was part of the reason they went or not.
We also went because it was a party - and we didn't get to go to many birthday parties. In the boarding houses, there were enough boys that there were birthdays on a weekly basis. Birthdays were observed - there was a cake and some sweets and fizzy drinks at your table at dinner, and you got cards from your friends, and people sang Happy Birthday, but there weren't parties for obvious logistical reasons. So getting invited to a birthday party outside the school was a rare treat for most of us.
Because it was an outside party, we didn't, for once, have to wear our school uniforms - instead we were able to wear civilian clothes. That didn't really mean all that much to be honest. Back then we didn't really get to buy our own clothing - parents chose what to buy you. In my case, some of my non-school clothes had been chosen by the parents of families I'd stayed with, others had been chosen by my House Matron or the wives of one of our Masters. These people all tended to be rather obsessed with the idea that we should look neat, so even when we were out of school uniform, our other clothing tended to be rather similar to our school clothing. I had a few items that didn't fit this pattern - play clothes, they were generally referred to, rugged enough to stand up to real punishment as we charged around on holidays in the bush or at the beach - but generally our non school clothing was quite formal. Once you reached fifth and sixth form, you started to get some input on a few items - it's not like the school wanted us to look out of place - in fifth and sixth form, when occasionally you might find yourself at a teenage party, you would have some fashionable clothing for those situations. But at this stage we were still in fourth form, and hadn't quite reached that level yet.
Our Matron had chosen what we would wear to Eric's party. It wasn't too bad - at least not for Rupert and William. A plain coloured shirt each, with dark trousers. Unfortunately, while they had both passed the threshold of being allowed to wear long trousers, I hadn't yet achieved this distinction. So I found myself attired in a similar coloured shirt, but having to wear short trousers and long socks. I tried to argue with Matron about it, but she reminded me that not only wasn't I old enough under the rules of the school to be in longs, I was also certainly still young enough to find myself across her knee without any trousers of any length to provide me with any protection.
These parties still tended to be kids parties - even though most of the people Eric had invited were around fifteen years old, back then, fifteen year olds were still seen as children. It wasn't totally a kids party, but there were games and lollies and things like that. And quite a bit of time to just hang around and talk.
There were probably about a dozen kids there - and except for a couple of Eric's relatives, all of them came from our school. This surprised us. We knew Eric had lived in this area for a long time, and until he'd come to our school at the start of third form, he had attended the high school just down the road from his home. It seemed odd to us that he hadn't invited any friends from the area, or his old school to this party.
Rupert especially, found this was very odd, and also regarded it with some suspicious concern. As I have said, part of the reason we came to this party was because we wanted to send a message that we weren't prejudiced against boys from the town near the school. Rupert expressed concern that maybe Eric was actually absorbing some of that prejudice that did exist in our school - or, to put a somewhat better face on it, perhaps he thought we were and so our presence meant he hadn't asked any of his friends from outside the school. And so, towards the end of the party when things were winding down, Rupert decided to ask Eric a few questions about what was going on. I was with them at the time, and so was another boy from our school - a boy named Greg Fountain - William was busy chatting up Eric's rather attractive seventeen year old girl cousin and through a series of hand gestures had conveyed to me the impression that I should give him some space. And Greg was probably Eric's best friend.
"Eric, I couldn't help but notice - nearly everybody here is from school. Didn't you invite any of your other friends?"
"Other friends?"
"From your old school - or from around here?"
Greg was standing behind Eric, from our perspective, and he rather emphatically shook his head at Rupert at this point. But Rupert wasn't looking, he was focused on Eric, who, after a few seconds spoke very quietly.
"I... don't have any friends from my old school. Or from around here."
"What? None at all."
Eric looked away from us for a second. "No. None at all." His voice cracked as he spoke.
He grabbed a lemonade and walked away from us. We followed. A moment earlier Eric had been grinning and seemed to be having a wonderful time. In an instant, his face had clouded and his voice had changed. We followed him outside and he sat down on a wooden bench next to a wooden table. Greg sat down next to him, and Rupert and I sat down opposite.
"Nobody around here likes me, much. They never really did, but it's even worse now. Friends from my old school? Yeah, right. The only thing they ever liked about me at that school, was that I didn't fight back when they beat me up. Greg was the only friend I ever had at the school - and when he left..."
Greg closed his eyes and put his hand down on top of Eric's wrist. Like Eric, Gregory Fountain had come to our school from the local high school in a similar way. But he'd done it a year earlier and I knew from conversations from him, that he had been badly bullied at that school. Eric continued to talk.
"They beat me up every day. Every single day. They stuck dog pooh in my lunchbox. They scribbled on my homework. Every day..."
I spoke. "If it upsets you, Eric, you don't need to talk about it."
"No, it's all right - I just want you fellows to understand how much it means to me to have you here today. It's the first time I've ever had a real birthday party. It's the first time I've ever had enough friends to have one."
Greg nodded. "I don't think you lot know how lucky you are. No offence, Rupert, or to you, Nat, but the School is something really special and for you lot who have been there since Form One, I think it's normal for you, so maybe you take it for granted."
I answered. "We've got bullies, too, remember."
"Oh, yeah, we do, you're right and some of them are pretty bad. But at the high school, it's not just the occasional boy who's like that. It's... half of them. Maybe more. Some of them only do it to stop it happening to them, some are just thugs, but you've basically got a choice there - be a bully or be a target. I'm glad my mum got me out when she did - because I was getting pretty close to changing sides. Eric here - he never would."
Rupert looked at them both. "Didn't the school do anything?"
"Like what? The teachers just wanted a quiet life. Stopping bullies would have meant coming out of the staff room. Oh sure, if they saw it happen, they'd do something about it, but most of the time, they just didn't bother."
Eric looked at us. "Yeah - I tried to complain once to the Principal, after they'd wrecked my homework. He called the boys in and asked them if they'd done it, and they said no. And there were four of them and only one of me. Their word against mine. He gave me the strap for lying. And I got it again for not having my homework. And they stood there watching it happen." The strap on the hand was the required method for the administration of corporal punishment in government run schools in our state, as opposed to most private schools, which normally used the cane across the bottom. We were proud of the difference.
I was shocked, "He gave you the strap for being bullied?"
"Pretty much. There were more of them than me, so he had to believe them."
"But he must have known you were more trustworthy than them."
Eric shrugged. "I don't think it matters at that school. It's not like ours."
"Well, all I can say is thank heavens, you are out of there."
"Yeah, I am - but unfortunately that just means they'll have chosen someone else. And - well, it's not that bad this year because we are up in the mountains, but I have to go past the place everyday on the way to and from School, and walk through the town in my school uniform - so I still get a serve occasionally."
"They don't hit you, do they?" Strathvayne's voice was hard.
"Of course not - they know if they hit someone from the School, it'd mean war." We stood together when we had to. "But they say a lot of things."
The party ended, as they do, and we all began to disperse. Greg headed off to his home in the town - a small town, not much more than a village really, had grown up near our school over the years, and that's where Eric and Greg both came from - other day boys came from further afield as well. William had offered to escort Eric's cousin Patricia home to her house nearby as well, and his offer had been accepted, so Rupert and I set off towards the School by ourselves. There were other boys returning there, but they'd left earlier than we did, as we had felt it necessary to restore Eric's equilibrium after our heart to heart discussion.
Eric lived on the opposite side of town to our School. About an hours brisk walk to School. We left around a quarter past three and we had to back at School by six at the latest, so we weren't in a great hurry.
Our route took us past the high school - it really wasn't very far from Eric's home, and we decided - or rather Rupert decided, and I followed him, to go in and have a look at the place. It was a Saturday afternoon, so there were no students around.
Grey, brick buildings - rectangular and very uniform. It didn't take us long to circle the entire school and as we went, Rupert picked up a large rock from around the edges of a small garden. I didn't think anything of it, but as we came back around to the front of the school, he took aim at a window.
"Rupert - what are you doing?"
"I want to smash the place. Smash it to pieces, smash it..."
"You can't!"
"Why not? You heard everything that Benedict said? Are you telling me you're not angry at all of that?"
"Of course, I am, Strathvayne, but it's vandalism and nobody will know why you did it."
He looked at me, the rock still in his hand, ready to throw. And he smiled.
"A bit silly, isn't it, really?"
"I think so, Strathvayne, yes."
"But how can they-"
"OI!" a loud voice rang out. I turned and looked. Climbing out a light blue panelvan in the road outside the school was a big man in police uniform.
"SPRINT!" yelled Strathvayne dropping the rock. He took off in one direction, and I took off in the other. But I'd run only a few feet before the policeman shouted again, "Nathan Rysher, don't make me chase you," and at that point, running became fairly pointless. I stopped and turned around and waited.
Sergeant Mullins was the local police sergeant, in charge of the local police station. A few months earlier, my friend William Connolly and myself had managed to trigger a fairly large police operation when we snuck away from our school one afternoon, and another boy reported seeing a pupil being dragged into a car, and so Sergeant Mullins knew who I was. He stepped up to me, he raised his hand, and he delivered a stinging clip across my right ear.
"Who's the other boy?"
I shook my head and was rewarded with a clip around the other ear. I was crying at this point.
"Who's the other boy? I know it's not Connolly, but I will find out."
"It's me, Sir." Strathvayne had turned around when he realized I was caught, but had slowed down his approach as he got closer to us, and was now looking at the Sergeant with some trepidation. Sergeant Mullins raised and hand and pointed at him, then pointed down at the ground in front of him. Very reluctantly, Strathvayne approached, obviously expecting to get his ears boxed. But that didn't happen even after he was standing right in front of the Sergeant.
"Name?"
"Strathvayne, Rupert Strathvayne, Sergeant."
"I take it you go to the School, Strathvayne?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Your Headmaster is not going to be happy, is he?"
"No, Sergeant."
He turned to where I was standing, rubbing my eyes with my fingers. "Your Headmaster told me last time, that if I let him deal with you, he'd made you very sorry for what you'd done, Rysher? Did he?"
"Yes, Sir."
"What happened?"
"He flogged me, Sir."
"Flogged you - what do you mean by that?"
"He gave me the cane, Sir... on my bare bottom, Sir."
"Really? So how do you think he's going to react when I take you up to the school, and tell him you were breaking windows."
"He wasn't!" Strathvayne spoke. Sergeant Mullins turned to him and the following dialogue ensued:
"What do you mean, he wasn't? I saw you."
"I mean he wasn't. Nor was I."
"I saw you, Lad."
"No, you didn't!"
"What do you mean, I didn't. Are you telling me I'm blind?"
"No, but you didn't see me breaking windows, because I didn't break any windows. You can check."
"You were going to though."
"No, I wasn't."
"I saw you with a rock in your hand."
"Yes, you did, but I wasn't going to throw it."
"You think I'm some sort of idiot, Lad?"
"No, but..."
"Well, what do you mean by saying you weren't going to throw it?"
"I mean just that. It's not hard to understand, is it?"
"Don't you be cheeky to me, Lad, or I'll clout you round the ears."
"I'm sure you will - you hit Nathan, and he didn't do anything at all."
"You are 'eading for a 'iding, Lad."
"If you're going to drop your aitches, at least use 'an' and not 'a'."
"What did you say to me?"
"Sorry - I didn't mean to use big words."
At this point I started backing away. Sergeant Mullins went red, and he raised his hand.
"You will apologise for that."
Strathvayne seemed to realise he'd gone too far, as he looked at the raised hand. Grudgingly he said:
"I'm sorry."
The hand came down, "I'm sorry, Sir."
"There's no need to call me, Sir, but if you insist on being formal, then it should be 'I'm sorry, My Lord.'"
I'm not sure if Strathvayne was being rude or not. I'm inclined to think he was trying to defuse the situation with a little humour, but if so, he miscalculated very, very badly.
When a police sergeant with a very Irish surname, is within a hinch of giving you an 'iding, it's possible there are more stupid things to do than announce your connections to the English peerage - but I'm having a hard time thinking of any.
Sergeant Mullin's arm shot out, and grabbed Strathvayne by the arm. He looked around and saw a bench in the playground. He dragged Strathvayne towards it, sat down on its edge and pulled the fifteen year old boy across his knees. He planted his left hand in the small of Strathvayne's back, and his right hand began to beat a tattoo across the seat of Strathvayne's trousers. Strathvayne howled in outrage. And after about a dozen smacks, just started howling.
The Sergeant only used his hand, but he used it very effectively, I would say at least fifty or sixty times, and Strathvayne obviously didn't like what he was getting. Strathvayne had a real objection to what he considered to be 'juvenile' punishments - I remember him asking to be caned instead of slippered on one occasion, because of this distinction - so I'm sure he found this experience unpleasant on a number of levels.
As I watched I was torn between feelings of sympathy for Strathvayne, and a real fear and anger that he might have provoked the Sergeant so much that I could expect similar treatment. And as the Sergeant pushed him off his lap, the man pointed at me and then at the ground in front of him.
Through his tears, Rupert spoke. "Sergeant, Sir, he didn't do anything. He told me to drop the rock. He didn't do anything, I swear it, Sir."
The sergeant held up his hand in the signal used to stop traffic and I stopped my approach, staring at the palm of his hand with a healthy amount of fear.
"Is that true, Rysher?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I hope it is. I would love to give you a bloody good 'iding, Rysher, I really would. You and your friends seem to cause me a lot of trouble, and if I catch you again, doing anything out of order - and if nothing else, you have been trespassing - I will give you a bloody good -" and he look at Strathvayne very pointedly, and carefully enunciated the word: "- hiding. Now, the two of you come with me."
"What?"
"You're going home in the back of a divie van."
"Oh come on, Sir!" If we were delivered to the School by a police car, we were doomed.
"Come on."
We were made to climb into the back of the panelvan and a few minutes later we were allowed to climb out right in front of the main school building. There were quite a few boys around. And unfortunately the Deputy Headmaster was not far away. He didn't get to us until after Sergeant Mullins had driven off.
"Strathvayne, Rysher - my study. Right now."
We followed Mr Keanes to his office. He opened the door and ushered us in.
"All right - what have the two of you been up to?"
Strathvayne spoke first. "It was me, Sir. Rysher wasn't involved."
"Really? Well, what did you do, Strathvayne?"
"Nothing, Sir."
Mr Keanes raised an eyebrow. "You did nothing, and Rysher wasn't involved?"
"I was involved, Sir." I spoke.
"So you were involved, Rysher. What did you do?"
"Nothing, really, Sir," I said.
Mr Keanes sat down at his desk and looked at both of us.
"If you two are trying to play silly buggers with me, let me assure you right now that I'm better at it than you are. Why were you brought back to this school in a police vehicle? Why have both of you been crying? Maybe you're not in trouble but something happened. Look, let's start with the basics shall we? Are you hurt, boys?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Yes, Sir."
"Where are you hurt?"
"My ears, Sir."
"My bottom, Sir."
The look on his face was a sight to see. I was feeling a bit strange and I'd already been amused by Mr Keanes announcing he was good at playing silly buggers. Now looking at the incredulous expression on his face, I imagined he was trying to work out what type of accident we might have had that could have resulted in one of us winding up with sore ears, and the other with a sore arse. Then I realized that ears and arse were anagrammatic, and I started giggling. I managed to stop myself, but only after he'd turned and stared at me.
"Do you think something is funny, Rysher?" he asked.
"No, Sir."
"I'm glad to hear it. Now - I want a straight answer from you, Strathvayne. Were you brought back to school by the police because you'd done something wrong?"
"Sort of, Sir."
"I said I wanted a straight answer. What do you mean, sort of?"
"He thought I was going throw a rock through a window, Sir. I wasn't. But then while he was questioning me, I... well, I was rude to him, Sir."
"You were rude to the policeman?"
"Yes, Sir."
"But you didn't do anything else wrong?"
"Well... we were trespassing, Sir. At the high school."
"He thought you were going to throw a rock at the high school windows?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Why did he think that?"
"Because I'd picked up a rock to throw it, Sir."
"But you said you weren't going to throw a rock through the windows?"
"I'd changed my mind, Sir. Just before he came."
"Right - now we're getting somewhere. Rysher, were you involved with this?"
"The trespassing, Sir. But nothing else."
"All right - how did you get hurt?"
"The Sergeant hit us, Sir."
"How - you first Strathvayne?"
"He... smacked my bottom, Sir."
"What with?"
"Just his hand."
"I see - now Rysher."
"He boxed my ears, Sir."
Mr Keanes stood up. "Right. So, if I have this straight. You were trespassing at the high school. Strathvayne, you were going to break a window, but thought better of it, and you didn't do anything else, Rysher. A policeman saw you, and administered some summary punishment. Who was it? Was it Sergeant Mullins?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. I trust him." He walked behind us to the umbrella stand he kept his cane in and I heard him pull it out.
"You've both had some punishment already, so I'm inclined to be lenient, but I can not ignore the fact that you were returned to this school in a police car and other boys saw this happen. So I am going to give each of you, three strokes of the cane. Rysher - you first. Bend over and touch your toes."
I did as I was told, and Mr Keanes stepped into position behind me. I was scared, of course, but I also felt oddly detached from the proceedings. I felt the cane being laid across my bottom, and then I felt the pain as it struck. But the pain seemed somewhat muted. Even so, I burst into floods of tears immediately, something that by this stage of my schooling struck me as odd. The second stroke hurt more, of course, but it wasn't until the third that I really felt the level of pain I normally associated with a cane stroke. The first cane stroke, not the third.
I stood up when I was told I could, and I watched as Strathvayne bent over to take his punishment as well. Like myself he started crying strongly and heavily after only one stroke, but in his case, I thought it wasn't surprising as his bottom was already hurting. He held his position for the second two strokes, though with obvious difficulty.
"You may go - and have a good Easter, boys."
"Thank you, Sir - and you have a good Easter as well," I remember answering as we left the room.
It may seem odd, but we had to change out of our non-uniform clothes into school uniform, so we could be collected from school - when arriving at school after a break or holiday, or when leaving before one, we had to travel in school uniform. So when Mr and Mrs Connolly arrived just after six to pick us up, we were waiting in uniform with our small cases outside the House. As we loaded them into the boot of his car, Mr Connolly looked at me.
"Have you been crying, Nathan?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Why?"
"I got the cane."
"Oh I see - well, that's a pretty good reason for crying. How many did you get?"
"Three."
"What for?"
"I'm not really sure."
He laughed. "I remember feeling that way a few times myself."
We all climbed into the back of the car - it was a large car, but it was rather crowded. The Connolly's had earlier picked up his daughters from our sister school. And so there were five of us crammed in the back - this was in the days before seatbelts became compulsory, but I don't think we'd have needed any as we were wedged quite tightly in place.
Lucy, sixteen and older than the rest of us, and in the Fifth Form of her school had the window seat behind her mother, William occupied the other window seat behind his father. Rupert was placed next to William, and Amelia next to Lucy - and I found myself right in the middle, probably because I was the smallest of the children in the car. Everyone except Amelia was older than me, and at thirteen, the same age as myself, she was actually a little larger than I was as isn't all that uncommon between boys and girls at that age.
We were going to be in the car for a while - we had to drive into the city and out again on the other side, and Mr and Mrs Connolly kept us entertained by telling us about their experiences at school - both of them had attended the same schools as their children, and quite a number of Mr Connolly's stories and one or two of Mrs Connolly's related to their misbehaviour and punishments. Unfortunately, my head was spinning so I wasn't paying that much attention (though fortunately in later years I heard many, if not all the stories again).
We had just come off a car ferry and resumed driving when suddenly I began to feel very ill indeed. I announced that I was going to be sick, which lead to a great deal of consternation in the back of the car, considering I was right in the middle of everybody else. The car screeched to a halt and everybody piled out and I was sick at the side of the road. Mrs Connolly came around to me, and asked me if I often got car sick, and I told her I never had before. She placed her hand on my forehead, and looked at my face, and then told everyone to get back into the car quickly. William was ordered into the front seat, and Mrs Connolly climbed into the back, with me next to her next to the window, and she told her husband to drive to the Royal Childrens' Hospital as quickly as possible - we weren't too far away from it at this point. As we drove, Mrs Connolly quizzed me and William and Rupert about what I'd been doing recently, about what I'd eaten at the party, about anything that had happened. Among other things, Rupert mentioned the fact that I'd had my ears boxed.
When we arrived at the hospital Mrs Connolly took me inside to the emergency area, and after a short wait I found myself being examined. I had a high fever with no particularly obvious cause, but they were concerned about the possibility of some sort of head injury, so I was taken for X-rays, given some awful medicine to drink, prodded and poked, and subjected to various indignities. Mrs Connolly stayed with me the whole time, even when I tried to insist she leave out of respect for my dignity and modesty.
Eventually it was decided that there didn't seem to be much wrong with me, but I should be kept in for observation. They thought I had picked up some sort of virus, or perhaps an infection. I was taken up to a ward - by this stage, the medicine must have had some effect because I was feeling much better. I still felt ill, though nowhere near as badly ill. Well enough that I was able to persuade Mrs Connolly and the nurses that I could change into my pyjamas well enough by myself. Once I had changed, I was put into bed, and Mrs Connolly left me, saying that they would come back the following day, and I might be able to go home with them in the evening.
After a few minutes, two young nurses came carrying a tray and told me they had to give me a needle to help me sleep. I offered my arm, but was told that I wasn't going to be that lucky. I had to roll over onto my side, and one of the nurses held me down, while the other pulled down the back of my pyjama trousers. I heard her draw in her breath, and there was a pause before she gave me the injection - which, incidentally didn't hurt at all.
As she walked away from my bed, I heard her call out 'Sister' and a more senior nurse came up to her. I heard the low conversation.
"It's Nathan, sister. His bottom is covered with bruises and lines. I haven't seen anything like it."
Sister came up to my bed.
"Nathan, roll over on your tummy, please."
She pulled back my pyjama trousers for a moment. "OK, you can roll back."
As I did so, she opened up the cupboard next to my bed and I saw her look at my school blazer. She turned to the young nurse.
"There's nothing to worry about. Nathan has just been a naughty boy. He's had the cane."
"Oh. Oh, all right."
I often wonder - if I'd gone to a different school, would that have made things different.