Late for School

From Blushes Supplement 2. I’ve always loved this photo-set, which was used for several Blushes stories. I'm not sure if I’ve previously posted any others here.

‘Look, I’m awfully sorry but I really must go,’ said Nicola, ‘otherwise I’m going to be late for school.’

It was a fact and one not to be viewed with any equanimity. The consequence of missing Morning Assembly when you were a Sixth Former at Southfield County School for Girls was dire in the extreme. At the same time it was a decidedly humiliating thing to have to say when you were 17 and therefore grown up, and your companion was older still and thus very grown up, with such juvenile considerations as school assemblies long forgotten.

They were seated in a green van which bore the legend R Bulpitt & Son — Plumbers Merchants on either side, parked in a quiet little cul-de-sac. Nicola Winfield, prettily blonde, and one Kevin Hicks, not pretty certainly, but with the kind of strong features that 17-year-old girls can find simply swoony. Tall dark and kind of handsome you might say, but on the other hand with no great intellect, which was why young Mr Hicks could find no better employment than delivery man for the aforesaid R Bulpitt & Son. Not that Kevin Hicks saw any problem with that. He had only recently moved with his parents to the small town of Southfield and thus could count himself lucky to find any job at all. And this one not only provided cash in his pocket but had the distinct advantage of the van as well, which in addition to its proper role of delivering plumbers’ requisites could be used for giving lifts to local ‘crumpet’.

Kevin Hicks was in the engrossing process of sizing up the Southfield girls and this particular specimen, Nicola Winfield, had been briefly met at a disco two nights ago. It should be said that Nicola did have a regular boyfriend, Stephen Jenkins, also 17 and a pupil at the local boys’ school; that was another reason, in addition to the very distinct prospect of being late for school, why Nicola should not have been here in this green van now, at 8.45 on this Tuesday morning. Stephen, if he knew, would have been extremely annoyed to know where Nicola was right now, but then Nicola did not intend to tell Stephen. For she wasn’t planning to do anything, just have a little chat before school.

‘Please, Kev!’ squealed Nicola, as large and rather clumsy fingers started unbuttoning her school blazer. ‘You mustn’t! And I’ll be late! Please drop me off and I… I could see you tonight if you like.’ Bearing in mind the existence of young Stephen Jenkins, clearly Nicola should certainly not have said that. But a girl can get rather carried away.

Kevin Hicks anyway did not appear to hear as he pulled the dark blue blazer open to expose Nicola’s crisp white blouse in the centre of which, between two prominent shapely mounds, was the red-and-blue Southfield County School for Girls tie. It was not the tie, though, but the mounds on either side which caught the attention of Kevin Hicks.

‘Jeez! You really got big ones for a girl still at school. How big are they? What size bra d’you take: 38?’

Nicola flushed. She in fact wore a 36-C cup which was certainly good-sized for a 17-year-old girl and bigger than her mum took. Indeed Nicola’s tits were the biggest in the Lower Sixth except for Pamela Barton’s. Nicola’s were firm and jutting even without a brassiere, though naturally she always wore one for the sake of decency.

‘Don’t be cheeky,’ she smiled. ‘Anyway no one takes a 38; it’s 36 if you must… oooohh!’

The gasp was the result of a large male hand, fingernails perhaps not 100-percent clean, firmly cupping the near side 36C cup. Nicola emitted further gasps and yelps but made no real attempt to disengage the hand as it rubbed and squeezed her right mammary. It felt — well, more than just OK, although clearly she should not be allowing it.

‘I saw you had real big knockers at the disco,’ Kevin offered by way of romantic come-on. He transferred his groping hand to the left breast.

Nicola guiltily enjoyed the heady sensation for a little longer and then remembered school again. In particular she remembered Mr Gilford, new Headmaster since the beginning of this year. The thought of what her fate would be if she missed morning assembly was a powerful antidote to all those hormones now coursing through Nicola’s young body.

‘No! Please Kevin, I’ve got to go!’

Kevin Hicks was in no mood to move although he himself was overdue with his delivery. He allowed his hand to be pushed away from Nicola’s breasts and then, as she straightened blouse and blazer, reached down to flip up the knee-length pleated grey skirt. Bare, softly rounded thighs and at the top a pair of brief white nylon knickers. Kevin’s hot eyes homed in on the knickers’ tight crotch in the short space of time it took Nicola to grab her skirt back down.

‘Hey! Cut that out,’ she yelped.

‘Only looking. Someone told me you schoolgirls didn’t wear any knickers in the summer. OK then, we better go. But give us a kiss first.’

Trembling, Nicola turned a full soft pink mouth towards her companion. This morning the natural pink of her full lips had been enhanced by the application of some Pink Sensation lipstick in recognition of the fact that she would be getting this lift to school. (Picked up a little way from her house of course, so her parents wouldn’t see.) Lipstick was strictly forbidden at Southfield County but Nicola hadn’t put a lot on and hopefully no one would notice.

She gave a little gasp as Kevin’s lips took hold of hers; then felt faint as his tongue made intimate hints. Weakly Nicola told herself she had to allow it otherwise she would never get to school.

Kevin pushed his tongue in as far as it would go — and imagined he was pushing something else into another of this pretty schoolgirl’s orifices. Some schoolgirls, he knew, could be really hot stuff and he could well have a hot one here. But clearly not now as, gasping, she pushed him away. Quiveringly tumescent, Kevin Hicks reluctantly turned his attention to the van. He backed abruptly into the nearby lamp-post, then shot forward with a screech of rubber.

----//----

Nicola’s watch said 8.55 as the green van drew up at the school gates. Unfortunately the doors of the school hall were also closed at precisely 8.55. She made a despairing run in the forlorn hope that her watch might be a minute or so fast, but it was not. The door was shut and there standing outside and grinning smugly was Mr Spinks, the school caretaker.

‘Well, what ‘ave we ‘ere! Miss Winfield! Miss Pretty Tits ‘erself and all ‘ot and bothered. Too late though, Miss; them doors is closed an’ you’ll ‘ave to go down in my book.’

Nicola blanched. She had had to go to Mr Gilford once before for lateness so she knew what to expect. If it wasn’t quite a fate worse than death it was pretty horrendous. When he had arrived at the beginning of the year Mr Gilford had immediately decided that discipline needed tightening up. The Fifth and Sixth Forms seemed especially lax, he said, whereas they should be setting an example to the rest of the school. Lateness in particular was a major crime in Mr Gilford’s book and he had introduced his own personal way of dealing with Fifth and Sixth Form lateness. A ‘short sharp shock’ described it pretty well. It was indeed a shocking shock if you hadn’t experienced that sort of thing before. Nicola hadn’t, and neither had most of her friends. They had hotly queried amongst themselves whether he was allowed to do it, but Julia Foster, Head Girl, said he was.

Caning a girl was legal, Julia said. And so it seemed was taking her knickers down and vigorously applying the hard palm of his hand to her bare bottom.

Nicola could have pleaded with Mr Spinks but she didn’t. It was rumoured that he could be persuaded not to report you but equally the rumoured price was not something Nicola was prepared to pay. Mr Spinks wrote her name in his book, leered, and then reached behind Nicola to squeeze her bottom. ‘I reckon you won’t be wanting to sit on this for a bit, young lady!’

She pushed him angrily away, then walked unhappily over to her classroom. Fifteen minutes later she was waiting, on tenterhooks, in Mr Gilford’s anteroom. He came bustling in; a tall and vigorous-looking man in his late fifties, his eye now alighting on Nicola with seeming relish.

‘What’s this: a morning miscreant? Well, well! And Miss Nicola Winfield too, without a doubt one of this school’s most charmingly developed specimens. Though naturally I speak of physical development and not of mental ability which may well be something else. So Nicola Winfield chooses to miss morning assembly, does she?’

Standing in front of him, Nicola was sweating — with the thought of what was undoubtedly to come combined with that most stimulating 20 minutes in the van with Kevin Hicks. ‘I… I’m very sorry, sir. I… I couldn’t help it.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said the Head mockingly. He ushered her into his office and closed the door. ‘Well, get that blazer off then. Let a poor over-worked Headmaster have a look at you.’

Nicola removed the blazer and stood flinchingly under Mr Gilford’s keen gaze. It was at times like this when you wished your blouse front was not quite so prominent.

‘Stand up straight, Nicola. Stick them out. I imagine you don’t try to hide them when representatives of the callow youth of this town are around. Eh Nicola?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Nicola, flushing, while forcing herself to stand up straight with her shoulders back.

‘That’s better. Yes, very nice. Most impressive.’

Trembling, Nicola looked straight ahead, not meeting Mr Gilford’s eye. This sort of thing was all part of the treatment; Mr Gilford really enjoyed making you squirm.

His hand reached out. Fingers went underneath one lightly brassiered breast and moved in an up and down motion, causing the full breast to jiggle. Then Mr Gilford did the same thing to the other one. Nicola felt herself sweating.

Mr Gilford’s hand came away. ‘Yes, quite fascinating. But we do have business to attend to, do we not, Miss Winfield. Kindly take your knickers off and place them on the desk.’

Nicola bit her lip. This was it; the moment of horrible truth. She was going to get a spanking. A bare bottom spanking. That was what you got unless you were late twice in a week when it was the cane. Nicola hadn’t had the cane but she had had a spanking once. The thought of it made your mouth go dry.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get them off. And then bring your bare bottom over here.’

Mr Gilford had gone to sit on his chair at the side of the room. That was the one he used for spanking as there was plenty of space around it. Space to get a girl over his lap and get to work on her. Nicola’s hand went up under her skirt. A bit of fumbling and then the white knickers appeared. She slid them on down; Mr Gilford always wanted them right off, not just lowered. Down over the white knee socks and then the brown strap-over shoes. Red-faced, she picked the knickers up. After that illicit 20 minutes with Kevin Hicks there was always the chance of an embarrassing damp patch.

‘Come here,’ he told her. ‘We haven’t got all day.’

She put the knickers on his desk and took the two fateful steps over to the Headmaster. He pulled her down, one hand helping itself to a brief feel of her breasts as he did so. Head down close to his red carpet and bottom squarely across his trousered thighs. Grey pleated skirt unceremoniously grabbed up and pushed back.

Nicola had a firmly plump bottom flaring out from a slim waist. Twin full firm globes, now quivering slightly, split by a deep cleft, and below two nicely rounded thighs. She had her legs properly closed, the inner thigh surfaces meeting halfway along their length but at the tops the thighs were separated by a space a few centimetres wide, the result of the typically broader hip dimension in the female. With his left arm holding the girl firmly Mr Gilford squeezed one full bottom cheek, as if testing its resilience. Then in a business-like manner he pushed the hand firmly into that space at the tops of Nicola’s thighs. An experienced Headmaster of course likes to check certain things with his older girls. Two strong male fingers made an abrupt intrusive investigation. The investigated girl let out a gasp of shocked horror. Mr Gilford’s sharp voice: ‘Young lady, you are distinctly wet.’

The fingers continued their probing investigation, to the accompaniment of further desperate gasps and jerking body movements. In due course the hand was removed. Only then did it come down in the manner Nicola had been expecting. A joltingly hard and stinging spanking of her bottom. A mind-shaking spanking that seemed to go on and on. But hard and shocking as it was it was certainly no worse in shock value than those first boldly probing fingers.

When he had finished Mr Gilford pushed Nicola to her feet. She was not exactly crying though her eyes were wet with tears but her breath was coming in short sharp gasps as of one not getting enough oxygen. Mr Gilford stood up too, and brought his face close to that of the panting girl.

‘You were distinctly wet, Miss. Wet and sticky. Before I spanked you. Explain that please.’

Nicola shook a crimson face as if in non-comprehension. Mr Gilford’s face came closer. ‘And do I detect lipstick, Miss Winfield?’

‘No sir!’ blurted Nicola. There hadn’t been a lot to start with and Kevin’s heated kissing must have removed a good part of it.

The Headmaster was evidently not sure. ‘Why were you wet!’ he repeated. ‘You don’t deny that, I hope.’

‘No sir… I… it was the thought of getting spanked, sir. I got all scared and… and excited. And… well, that can happen, sir.’

Mr Gilford’s hands came up and took hold of Nicola’s two breasts. ‘I shall be keeping a sharp eye on you, Nicola. I have a strong suspicion that you did put lipstick on this morning and there is no doubt whatever of the aroused state you were in. There is a certain suspicion in my mind, Nicola, that you might have engaged in — oh — some kind of, shall we say ‘intercourse’ — of a sexual nature before coming to school this morning, and that is the reason for your lateness.’

‘No sir!’ Nicola yelped. That was just an awful awful thing to say.

‘No I didn’t!’ she repeated as the hands were still at her breasts, squeezing in a way that was hurting.

Mr Gilford let go. ‘I shall be watching you, Nicola, that’s all. I might even decide it would be a good idea to discuss this with your mother.’

‘No sir. I haven’t done anything,’ Nicola wailed. Tearfully she went to put her knickers back on. As she went unhappily out Mr Gilford’s hand delivered a sharp slap to her still sore bottom.

----//----

After a start like that Nicola found it quite impossible to concentrate on anything for the remainder of the day, her mind repeatedly going back to those disturbing encounters with Kevin Hicks and Mr Gilford. Thinking of either one could send her pulse rate off at a rate of knots. Nicola’s friends knew she would have got a spanking for being late and naturally wanted to hear all the details. She told them, while saying nothing of Mr Gilford’s dreadful accusation or his quite shocking but nonetheless arousing use of his fingers. She also said nothing about Kevin Hicks because they all knew she was going out with Stephen.

Nicola saw Steve after school, walking part way home with him as she did routinely. She felt awful about her morning meeting with Kevin but naturally did not mention it — and she felt equally awful, but also remained silent, about the fact that she had agreed to see him that evening. She knew she shouldn’t but the thought of going out with someone like 20-year-old Kevin was just too exciting. And anyway she wasn’t going to let him do anything.

Young Mr Hicks naturally had different ideas. In the green van parked in a quiet lane he immediately came on very strongly, groping hands everywhere and that adventurous tongue making its suggestions again. When the tongue came out of her mouth there were romantic words as well.

‘Let’s get in the back and do it. I brought some rubbers.’

‘No!’ breathed Nicola. ‘I’ve only just met you.’ Not wanting to sound like a green school kid she said, as she struggled to keep his hand off her pussy, that she did do it a bit but not all the time. This was not strictly true. Nicola had done it once, with a boy she met the previous summer when on holiday with her parents, but she hadn’t done it since. She certainly didn’t do it with Stephen (who also didn’t know about the boy on holiday).

Nicola continued to refuse to get in the back but it became quite steamy enough in the front as she eventually agreed to take her knickers off provided they did not do it. Kevin’s hand proceeded to do rather rude things to her and Nicola’s own hand was required to do something too, something she’d never done before that was even more rude, or so she thought. With the result that when she got home she had to put her skirt straight in the washing machine.

‘I — er — got some grease on it, Mum,’ said Nicola, still weak at the knees. Wrapping a towel round herself she thrust a rather sticky pair of knickers in as well.

‘The washing machine won’t take grease out,’ her mother told her. ‘You should have given it to me.’

Nicola made a mumbled reply. Giving the skirt to her mother would not have been a good idea.

Kevin had wanted to see her in the morning but she had said no. She couldn’t risk a repeat with Mr Gilford especially as a second occasion would mean the cane. In bed she decided that perhaps this business with Kevin Hicks was just too much, he definitely wanted more than she should allow. Indeed he had already got more than she should allow. Yes, when she saw him next she should tell him firmly that it was not a good idea. The only trouble was that even thinking about Kevin Hicks made her all weak at the knees.

She set out for school nice and early; there would be no repeat of yesterday, but in the next street her heart missed a beat as she saw ahead a parked green van. As Nicola drew closer it became unmistakeable. R. Bulpitt & Son — Plumbers Merchants. Through the open window the face that made her go all gooey. ‘Come on,’ he grinned. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be late.’

Heart galloping, Nicola got in. A hand immediately slid up between her legs to the crotch of her knickers.

‘I can’t be late,’ she pleaded, struggling to get the hand away. ‘Yesterday was awful but if it’s two days in a row he’ll kill me.’ But she was understandably vague when Kevin wanted to know what would happen. Well, a girl doesn’t want to talk about getting a cane across her bare bottom.

Kevin said he would drive her straight to school but inevitably he stopped ‘for just a second’ in that convenient cul-de-sac. Nicola’s hormones were soon going full blast again with all thought of telling him it had to finish forgotten. Also forgotten, with Kevin’s tongue in her mouth and his fingers in the crotch of her knickers, was the passage of time. Suddenly, belatedly… cripes!

This time it was 8.57 when the green van let her off at the school gates. Oh Christ in Heaven! She just couldn’t go to Mr Gilford a second day in succession. But what choice did she have apart from the horribly grinning Mr Spinks?

‘Before I writes your name down why don’t we go an’ ‘ave a quiet little chat about it?’ he offered, a greedy look in his eye. Numbly Nicola followed him down to his room in the basement next to the boilers. Mr Spinks opened the door and stood aside to let her in. As she passed his hand came up the back of her skirt to grab at her tautly-knickered bottom. Nicola pushed the hand away but she knew she’d have to take a lot more than that if she was to avoid another interview with the Headmaster.

Closing the door, Mr Spinks at once made that clear. ‘Don’t be ‘oity-toity now, my girl. Cos if you was really nice I might be persuaded not to put yer name down in this ‘ere book.’

What did ‘really nice’ mean? Nicola asked with a little shudder. Mr Spinks, leering, came close and unbuttoned her blazer. ‘Well we’ll ‘ave to see, won’t we, Miss?’ Two sinewy hands took hold of the big breasts in the clean-this-morning blouse. Nicola felt slightly sick as the hands squeezed, but she forced herself to stand submissively still.

Mr Spinks’ voice, some-what hoarse with excitement. You didn’t get hold of someone like Nicola Winfield every day. ‘Course it’s a very serious matter, not reporting a girl when she’s late. I’d get into serious trouble if I was found out; so I’d want a girl to be properly friendly to take the risk.’ The hands squeezed hard. ‘Stone me, but you got a real pair o’ tits on you, my girl.’

What did he want? Nicola asked again, red-faced and sweating now, though she had a pretty good idea.

To give some indication Mr Spinks let go of her breasts and one hand went round Nicola’s waist to hold her close while the other slid down and up under the front of the grey skirt. To clutch the nylon-knickered pubic mound. Nicola gave a yelp and struggled but he wouldn’t let go.

‘Come on, my pretty,’ he cackled, ‘don’t tell me you ‘aven’t ‘ad it before.’

Nicola did tell him just that but as is frequently the way with caretakers at girls’ schools Mr Spinks chose not to believe it. And whether she had or not, he knew that in extremis a girl is frequently prepared to pay a very worthwhile price. The advent of Mr Gilford and his cane six months earlier had meant some pretty nice pickings for Arthur Spinks.

‘No, please!’ Nicola gasped weakly. Mr Spinks relinquished his hold and ponderously took out notebook and pen. ‘No!’ squealed Nicola again.

‘Well what’s it to be,’ he queried. ‘One or the other: make up yer mind.’

Desperately Nicola pointed to the time. ‘Assembly’s almost out! ‘I’ve got to go to my class.’

‘After school then. You be back down ‘ere right after school this afternoon. Else I’ll go to old Gilford and tell ‘im I forgot and you was ten minutes late this morning.’

----//----

Nicola endured a desperate day, the choice before her stark and horrible. She knew she couldn’t face the Headmaster’s cane though, and that other business that would come with it. As for the horrible Spinks — well, presumably it wouldn’t actually hurt, not like a caning. You could perhaps close your mind to what was happening. Close your eyes and think of England.

Mr Spinks was there waiting at 4 o’clock. Nicola’s dumbly downcast look gave the answer to his ‘What’s it to be then?’ He closed the door; and told her to take off her knickers.

‘I’m goin’ to give that pretty bum a bit of a spankin’ first, my lady. Then we’ll see what’s what.’

Nicola took them off and got over his lap. It was horrible all right, his hand on her bare bottom, spanking and also groping about. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else but it didn’t seem to work, there was no escape from the awful reality.

Then he pulled her up and made her lean face-down over the table. This was it, a much worse reality. A sudden frantic thought. ‘Are you… going to use something?’ Behind her Mr Spinks’ voice, hot and gaspy, said of course he was. He told her to part her legs and then he was grabbing her from behind and… it was there. She yelped as it hurt… then it was up inside her. She felt a shiver of fear. ‘Are you sure… you’ve got something on…?’ His voice breathily in her ear. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t… want to get… any of you girls… in trouble. Would l?’ He was moving rhythmically and now making groaning sounds. It was pretty awful all right, there was no doubt about that, and there was no way you could close your mind to it. Nicola gritted her teeth. Now she fervently wished she had taken the caning option. But it was too late for that…

Later, in the evening, she said no to Kevin when he rang to ask her out, and to Stephen she said she had a headache. She sat morosely silent in front of the telly until it was time for bed. ‘Are you feeling all right?’ her mother asked. ‘You’re not, usually this quiet. Not had a tiff with Steve, have you?’

----//----

The green van was there again in the morning but Nicola refused to get in. ‘Two days in a row isn’t funny!’ she spat out. ‘Not bloody funny at all!’ She got to school in good time, looking the other way when she passed a grinning Mr Spinks.

In assembly she felt a little better. She had paid the price for her late mornings but it was now over and done with and she would try and forget it. She hadn’t finally decided but she thought maybe she wouldn’t see that Kevin any more; certainly not take any more lifts to school. As they filed out of the hall Nicola felt somewhat more chirpy. At the door there was Miss Parsons, Senior History Mistress. She said, ‘Headmaster wants to see you, Nicola.’ Nicola’s heart missed a beat but, well, it couldn’t be anything, could it?

She went in to stand in front of his desk. He looked up. He didn’t say anything for some moments but he could see he was angry. When he did speak it was like a bombshell.

‘Miss Winfield, I have this morning had a long and rather unpleasant telephone call from a member of the school governing body. In essence, one of this school’s Sixth Formers was seen, yesterday and the day before, behaving in a disgraceful manner before school in a delivery van parked in Hamilton Road. After expressing sarcastic surprise that I allow my girls to behave in this fashion, Nicola, the governor went on to express further surprise that the girl in question was not late for school on those two days.’

Nicola could feel a cold sweat enveloping her.

‘Miss Winfield, you were the only Sixth Former late on Tuesday. I have now spoken to Spinks and he tells me that in fact you were late yesterday as well but by an oversight he omitted to record it in the Late Book. For your information I am told it was a green van owned by R. Bulpitt & Son. Also the description given to me of the girl fits you in every detail.’

What could she say? Nothing. As Mr Gilford started tearing into her, Nicola began to weep silently. The bawling-out went on for some time; she was a disgrace to the school; behaving like a common slut, etc, etc. When he had finally finished Mr Gilford went to lock the door and then to his cupboard to take out his cane. Nicola was told to remove her skirt and knickers.

‘I intend to give you a caning, Miss, that you will remember for a very very long time.’

And he did: it was a caning you could not possibly ever forget. Mr Gilford, grim-faced, clearing one side of his desk and then making Nicola bend herself across the top gripping onto the other edge, her feet wide apart, knees straight. Bare bottom flinching, in fearful anticipation, but only a brief moment’s wait. Crack!… The thin whippy cane had exploded on her bottom, dreadfully, unbelievably. She yelled out, a desperate animal cry, the pain beyond what you could ever imagine. The awful hurt was still rising and spreading when: Crack!… the cane gave her bottom a second horrendous kiss. She heard herself make that wild animal noise again. She thought she was going to be sick, right there on the Headmaster’s polished desk.

There were six more, eight in all. Each one seemed to be worse than the last. Combined with the feeling of wanting to be sick was the thought also that perhaps she would go out of her mind; for how could you withstand such pain and keep sane? When he had finished Mr Gilford hauled her to her feet. Sobbing, she held onto the desk for support. Her bottom felt like a slab of tenderised meat.

His hand delivered a hard slap to the rawness. ‘I trust that will make you think twice about any more canoodlings in public, my girl.’

She was in too much of a state to give an answer. The hand pushed intimately in between her hot thighs. ‘Won’t it, Nicola?’

‘Yes… yes sir,’ she yelped.

Hardly knowing where she was or what she was doing, Nicola got her skirt and knickers back on. Mr Gilford went to sit at his desk, but he had not yet finished with her.

‘As you’ve caused me so much trouble and embarrassment I think another little dose might be in order. Perhaps a couple more. Let’s say Monday and Friday of next week, after assembly, shall we? For a little further medicine to ensure the lesson has gone properly home. Now get out, if you please.’

----//----

Four o’clock. A miserable school day finally over. A day of forcing herself to act as if nothing had happened though for most of the time even sitting down had been agony. In the corridor she met Mr Spinks. Horrible Mr Spinks. Who whispered that he would like to have a quiet word.

‘Well I don’t want a word with you,’ hissed Nicola. ‘You bloody ratted on me. And after what I let you…’ Words failed her, she felt like breaking into tears at the very thought of it all.

‘I couldn’t ‘elp it. I ‘ad no choice but to tell ‘im. But come on, I got a nice cup o’ tea down in my place.’

Somehow she was persuaded to go with him. Mr Spinks duly produced a cup of tea, to which he added a generous shot of whisky, plus biscuits. He was very friendly and commiserative, tut-tutting over what had happened, and explaining that it hadn’t been his fault. Yes, he was very friendly and the whisky-laced tea gave you a nice warm glow; but then it suddenly dawned on Nicola where all this friendliness was intended to lead.

‘I know what you want,’ she snapped, ‘and you’re not getting it again, so don’t think you are.’ Well it really was a bit much to imagine that after all this he was going to do that again.

Mr Spinks gave her an owlish look. He only wanted to be friendly, he repeated. And then he calmly informed her that he, Arthur Spinks, knew all about what she had been getting up to with ‘that plumber boy’. And did she want her boyfriend, Steve Jenkins, to know all about it?

Nicola’s indignation abruptly evaporated in the face of this new situation. How could Mr Spinks possibly know? About Kevin and indeed about Stephen? Arthur Spinks gave another owlish look. ‘I knows a awful lot of things,’ he stated. And it is indeed a fact that caretakers at girls schools do learn to keep their eyes skinned and their ears open. Walls frequently have ears and keyholes can have ears and eyes as well. Knowledge is power, as someone said. Power to make pretty young ladies friendly and co-operative — even when they don’t want to be.

Mr Spinks poured Nicola another cup of tea, with another nice warming tot of whisky, then suggested she take her blazer off as it was rather hot. It was warm especially with that tea. ‘You’re just a blackmailer,’ Nicola told him as she put her blazer on the back of his chair. ‘Oh no, don’t say that?’ Mr Spinks sounded quite hurt at the suggestion. From behind her he reached round to take hold of the firmly jutting breasts. ‘Ah, what a pair you got, young Nicola. Best pair in the school without a doubt.’

Nicola shivered, at the same time feeling the heat of the tea. He was an awful blackmailer but what could you do? ‘Mind my bum, it’s like I’ve sat on an electric cooker,’ she said as he started taking her knickers off. The knickers came off and she was lying over the table again. Oh Christ! But what choice did she have? ‘Mind my bottom,’ she said again as he came up close. And then in an apprehensive voice: ‘You better be using something.’

Nicola was late home for her tea just as she had been late home yesterday and for the same reason. She would have to explain to Stephen again why she hadn’t met him. ‘Wherever have you been?’ demanded her mother. ‘Messing about with that Steve, I suppose.’

‘No mum,’ said Nicola, but offered no other explanation. Her head anyway was in a whirl. There was Steve and Kevin, and there was also Mr Gilford who had promised her two more of those dreadful canings. And there was awful Mr Spinks. How did a girl cope with all that lot?

It was later that evening. alone in her bedroom, that the idea of running away to London — away from all these intimidating complications, first occurred to her, and as she fell asleep that plan was formulating itself more clearly in her confused mind…