“I’m going to have a bath.”So how could I resist? I waited until Haron was undressed and about to step into the deep, warm, bubbly water, and stormed in - cane in hand. “What on earth do you think you’re playing at, young lady?”

She giggled, and tried to look serious. I thought I’d better explain. “Did I not tell you very clearly that you were to report to your Housemaster straight after the game? And yet I find you’ve ignored me and come to get washed and changed.”

She was trying hard not to smile, as she yes-sirred me.

“Now get into the bath, and stand with your hands on the wall.”

“But it’s hot….”

“Well more of you will be hot in a moment. This will teach you to get sent off playing hockey.”

Six strokes followed: quite nasty little cutting ones. On the fourth, my backswing msy have been at an odd angle: the trajectory of the cane made it catch a glancing blow on the shower curtain on its way down. She squeaked with surprise at the odd impact that resulted. “Quiet girl: that will have hurt the shower curtain far more than it hurt you.”

Somehow we avoided collapsing into peals of laughter before the final two had been administered. And then I left her in peace, to sit down in the hot bath on her freshly-hot stripes.

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