Many years ago now, I wrote a story that combined many of my favourite fantasy flavours: a school setting; the headmaster giving a deserved punishment to a girl he liked and trusted; a particularly hard, formal caning. It’s called The Punishment List, and I like it enough that it became the title of the collection of my stories that was published a couple of years back. It holds a very special place in my authorial heart.

Lately, after our most recent play together, I encouraged Kami to dust off the copy of my anthology that I’d given her a while ago. I’d hoped she’d enjoyed it; I hadn’t expected to receive an email shortly after, in which – to my surprise and delight – she asked (perhaps, demanded!) to play out the title story. A date was set; emails were swapped: harsh as the story is, Kami didn’t want me to go at all easy on her, and I gave her my word in reply that I wouldn’t – specifically, in addition to agreeing there’d be no warm-up (as there isn’t one in the story), my reply read:

I want to beat you just as hard as the girl I wrote about. *Just* as hard.

The scene duly set, my revision began: how many times did I re-read the script, wanting to get it right? Nerves set in: I knew Kami wanted an intense scene, and I wanted to get it right for her. And it’s a special story for me: I wanted to do it justice if I was going to play it out.

I shifted furniture around, deciding that this shouldn’t be played in a space I’d used before. A sofa was moved between rooms, rugs put in place, a table moved so that, as in the story, the crook-handled senior cane could be resting on it when the girl walked into the library. Ah yes, the senior cane: only my heaviest dragon cane would do. I practised: my poor pillows took it courageously.

The punishment book – old-looking, leather-bound, as in the story, was dusted off. The fountain pen with which the details would be recorded… damn: neither of mine would work; a quick run into town was called for, as nothing else would fit. The punishment list itself, pinned in the story to the main school noticeboard, was designed and printed and taped to the door.

Kami was picked up, and driven to school…

There’s that interlude before a scene in which the transformations take place: jeans give way to a suit and gown; comfortable everyday wear to school uniform and tie. Friends, to characters. And then I walked downstairs, closed the door, became the headmaster and waited for a girl’s knock.

It’s rare for me to cane a girl when she’s touching her toes; rare for me to cane a girl with no mercy, with such a heavy implement. Each stroke raised a fierce weal; each was followed by a long pause, until the head prefect could murmur the count and her “thank you, sir”, and then more of a wait as I made her anticipate the next cut.

One of the features of the story is that Alice receives extra strokes for not holding her position, on top of the eight which have already been awarded. I’d wondered if this would play out in reality. It did.

A girl’s cowering on the floor, sobbing, clearly struggling. It’s evident that the caning is proving to be a dreadful ordeal. What does one do? As a headmaster: wait for her to compose herself, then carry on. As a headmaster-who’s-really-a-top-playing-a-scene-with-a-friend? Have a moment of doubt, a fleeting crisis of conscience, then recall your clear agreement: hard, no mercy. And wait for her to compose herself and carry on.

Alice’s hands were shaking so badly as I made her sign the book after her tenth stroke that she could scarcely hold the pen. And that was only half the story, for any girl would have received that number of strokes: the punishment for the head girl would be doubled. The next batch were again as hard as a school caning could be – and then it was over.

It was an amazing scene, that couldn’t have worked without the clearest communication, deep trust – and a great partner to play with. Thank you, Kami: you made a truly wonderful, amazingly brave Alice. I was so delighted that you asked to play it. I was proud of you for taking it. I loved every moment of it.

 

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You can read the original story here (or in the book to which it gave its name), and you can read Kami’s account of the scene on her blog (together with photos). Hope you enjoy!