THE PAST IS CLOSE BEHIND - Part 1 by Alex Birch 'Hurry up, mom, we'll be late. It starts at 7!'. The frantic excitement in 16 year old Amanda Knight's voice dragged her mother out of her reverie, the older woman grabbing her daughter in a playful bear hug as they walked up the long drive to Radcliffe College and the first Parents Evening since Amanda had enrolled in the Sixth Form College some 6 months before. Sixth Form College...how grand it all sounded and so different from the old days. Despite her daughter's anxious entreaties for haste, Suzanne Knight paused for a moment and looked up at the imposing stonework of the old building, its twin turrets at each end of the wall betraying its Tudor origins, the stained glass windows of the chapel in the east wing still as Suzanne remembered them. It had been over 20 years since she had last visited this spot and the butterflies in her stomach had returned. She was glad of her daughter's affectionate nagging for it distracted Suzanne's mind from the memories that surrounded this place, the aura that haunted her from so long ago . It had been a girls only Grammar School then , of course, but over the years as Government policy gradually phased out the selective school system so its role had changed to a college designed to give students that last academic push towards a University qualification. The old Grammar School and its examination conveyor belt methods had certainly worked for Suzanne, for now she was a partner in a scientific research consultancy while Greg, her husband, was a chartered accountant, and a very successful one. Yet the memories of her old school haunted Suzanne's dreams in ways which left her feeling distraught and guilty. When Amanda qualified for Radcliffe, she had been over the moon with delight, a joy that turned to disappointment at her mother's apparent indifference. Suzanne had tried to enthuse and knew how much her daughter wanted and needed her warmth and praise, yet could hardly bring herself to mention the place. It had been one of the few incidents that had provoked family friction, Greg puzzled and angry by his wife's attitude and conscious of his daughter's disappointment. They had tried to talk about it but Suzanne had ended up angrily ridiculing his accusation that she was hiding something and had stormed off to the bedroom in tears. They were the perfect modern couple, both rich, successful and flexible in their working arrangements. So flexible that when Amanda's induction day arrived , Suzanne had conveniently arranged a business meeting leaving Greg little option but to escort his daughter to the initial meeting alone. He didn't complain but, once more, unasked questions hung in the air. Suzanne felt cowardly and stupid for Radcliffe College was mere bricks and mortar, yet the thought of going back filled her with dread. She knew she was being unfair to husband and child by this attitude, longing to confide the reasons for her antipathy but she simply could not. It was something she would just have to live with. The date of the Parents Evening had been traumatic for Suzanne, forcing her hand, making her confront her fears. Greg had important meetings with clients that day which could not be shelved, and she knew there was no longer any escape route. So she bravely accepted the responsibility of escorting her young daughter, glad for the sake of the family that this particular hang up was finally going to be put to rest . So now, her nerves tight and her heart pulsing, she found herself being half dragged up the driveway by a very agitated Amanda. 'Mom, they'll be cross if we're late and its two minutes to seven !' the pretty brown haired girl begged and Suzanne swallowed hard before submitting to the inevitable, grabbing Amanda's arm before walking towards the stone steps which led to the reception area. Once inside the Hall, Suzanne's nerves began to settle amid the many parents who were milling around and helping themselves to coffee and sandwiches from a buffet supervised by two tall girls who were obviously prefects and proud of it. Suzanne smiled as her ever hungry 16 year old dived into the sandwiches despite having just consumed an evening meal and she used the time alone to wander around the reception area, which, apart from different coloured paint, looked just as it had over 20 years before. Straight ahead of her were the swing doors that led to the assembly hall where tonight's meetings with the teachers would take place. Suzanne gave a little shiver. Why was it you always remembered the bad things? For it was in that assembly hall, after morning prayers, that Mrs Frobisher always announced the names of the girls who had appointments in her office as soon as prayers were finished. Everyone knew what that meant. Excited giggling inevitably broke out and all juvenile eyes turned towards the hapless culprits who stood with bowed heads, red faced and weeping with fear and shame until the sharp bark of Mrs Frobisher's voice restored order. Once when she was sixteen, Suzanne had been on that name and shame roster. Once she had wept with fear as prayers ended and begun that walk back down the corridor like a condemned prisoner. There she had parted company with her friends who left via other exits for their respective classrooms while she had walked back here through reception and through the doors on the opposite side which led to the Head Teacher's office. Oh God! Her mouth suddenly dry, Suzanne walked across the reception hall and quietly pushed open the swing doors on the other side. She looked round hastily but parents and children were occupied with grabbing food as she slipped quietly through and into the silent corridor beyond. Slowly she walked the few yards past the staff room and staff toilets until she came to that door...the very appearance of which she used to dread. It looked less forbidding now for there was no entry light over the door, no sombre oak panelling and yet she was filled with a nervous tension and fear which was almost sexual in its intensity . Suzanne, her throat as dry as dust, recalled the one and only time her shaking hands had knocked this door all those years before and been summoned in by that loud penetrating voice_________ '__________Ah, Suzanne Collins!' the imposing grey haired figure behind the desk spat out her name like an oath, the dark flinty eyes hard and unyielding, as Suzanne stood before her shaking like a leaf. 'P..p..please Mrs Frobisher..I..I'm sorry Mrs Frobisher...I'll..I'll never..I'll never ...' and at that point Suzanne's fragile control deserted her and she began to blubber like a baby. The matriarch of Radcliffe Grammar School for Girls got to her feet, no pity in her eyes. She reached beneath her desk and, very deliberately and slowly, placed a 3ft-rattan cane on the table in front of the weeping girl. 'Why are you sorry, Suzanne?...' she asked icily '...sorry you cheated in an examination or sorry you got caught? Because you are going to be very sorry indeed!.' Suzanne tried to reply but somehow there was thick fur in her throat and she merely gurgled through her frightened tears. 'You are a grave disappointment to me, Suzanne ...' the Headmistress continued grimly '...for you have been an excellent pupil for 5 years at this school and yet, now as you prepare for the most important examinations of your life, you have been stupid enough to neglect your studies and found it necessary to cheat. You could be expelled from school in disgrace, girl. Do you understand that? No examinations, no qualifications, a ruined life!' The trembling girl could only gasp, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she blubbered anew. Miss Frobisher stared at her long and hard before walking round the desk and picking up the rattan cane, Suzanne's eyes as wide as saucers as she stared at the implement in horror. 'I will not however expel you, Suzanne, for your conduct prior to this has been exemplary, but you will be disqualified from the Biology paper. I just hope you do well in your other subjects..without cheating, needless to say! You will need to work very hard! I also intend to give you a punishment you will remember for a long time. Maybe because it's your first offence you thought I would treat you leniently? Well, my girl, you can dismiss that from your mind. I cannot stand cheats and I have only one response for dealing with them.!' Suzanne whimpered as the headmistress firmly took her arm and guided her to the edge of the desk . 'You are going to be very sore and very ashamed when I have finished with you...' Mrs Frobisher continued '...because I am going to give you six strokes of the cane on your bare bottom....' She paused dramatically as Suzanne, predictably, wailed in terror ' ...and there's no point in tears and protests, my girl, its far too late for that. Now pull up your skirt, tuck it into your waistband, take your knickers down, then bend right over the desk, gripping the far side!' Trembling with fright and weeping like a small child, Suzanne somehow found co-ordination in her violently trembling hands to pull up the back of her skirt and tuck it into the belt at her waist. For a brief moment she dreaded the loss of her modesty and looked up in mute appeal to the headmistress. The only response was an angry motion of the head and an impatient wave, indicating that she should complete the humiliating deshabille. Suzanne turned away towards the desk once more, her eyes moist with tears as she slowly eased her knickers down to her ankles and lay across the desk. She had never even been spanked at home and to be naked for the cane like this was beyond horror. She felt the cold air on her bare bottom and genitals then heard the swish as Mrs Frobisher flexed the cane in a practice swing. She gripped the edge of the wooden desk , conscious of how she must look, her pale bare bottom thrust up for the cane, her sex visible, her shame total. Then with a blinding flash of fire across her bottom, which prompted a loud scream, Suzanne's shame and fear were of no further consequence. Her mind and body were consumed by the most agonising pain she had ever experienced and she began to writhe helplessly across the desk. Dimly she heard 'Stay still' then another line of burning fire ignited across her helpless buttocks , a pain which raced through her system until it seemed to appear in her throat, her mouth opening wide as a dry retch forced its way out of her mouth. The fire turned into a burn like a thousand bee stings as Suzanne cried and wriggled before a third scalding slice bit into her bottom and she howled and begged to be let off any more. It was to no avail and three more strokes followed with relentless certainty. How she survived the pain of that caning without passing out she would never know but it was with sobbing relief that she heard the words 'You may dress!' Her whole body seemed to be on fire as Suzanne dragged herself upright, reaching down with shaking hands to pull up her knickers. The contact of the tight cotton against her inflamed bottom once more sent her into spasms of weeping as she released her skirt from the belt. For the first time that morning, Mrs Frobisher showed her some kindness. 'I know that hurt you a great deal, Suzanne, and it was meant to but you took it very bravely. I fully intended to punish you severely so that you never, ever have to come back to my office again. If you do, I can assure you that the consequences will be even more severe. Now you may skip the remainder of your first lesson if you need to visit the toilet and make yourself presentable. You will find sitting down almost intolerable for the rest of the day but that is your fault and you should dwell on that. Now run along!' Suzanne, her eyes blinded with tears, muttered a choking 'Yes Mrs Frobisher' and began to shuffle painfully back towards the door of the Headmistress' office_________________ ___________the door flew open and Suzanne jumped out of her skin with fright. 'Hello there...' said the fresh faced blonde woman with the beaming smile '...I'm Maureen Bishop the Head Teacher. I guess you must be one of the parents. My, my you look scared out of your wits. You weren't going to burgle the place were you ...' she asked with a grin '...or were you just having a mooch round'. 'I..I'm sorry...I know I should have stayed in reception but I wasn't hungry and ...I..I used to attend the old school years ago...just trying to get my bearings' Suzanne stuttered with embarrassment as Mrs Bishop smiled engagingly. 'No problem...' she said '...but you don't have to wait any longer. I'm just going to co-ordinate the proceedings so if you'd like to follow me?' As Suzanne followed the young Head up the corridor, she reflected how times had changed. Of course, Mrs Frobisher had died some five years before, Suzanne remembered the obituary in the local paper , recalling the brief pang of sadness she had felt. The old girl had been hard and very stern but Suzanne had never cheated in an exam again. Her methods had worked for the pain of a caning had terrified Suzanne, a fear which had ignited a chain of events which led to the trauma she experienced to this day. 'Which of the girls is yours, Mrs..er...' the young Head Teacher looked round enquiringly as they reached reception, breaking Suzanne's reverie ...'er...Knight..she replied absently pointing out the dark pretty girl still munching sandwiches as the parents gathered round expectantly. 'Ah Amanda ...' Mrs Bishop responded warmly '...a lovely girl. You must be very proud of her. She will do well I think. A tendency to be a little careless sometimes but her teachers will discuss that I'm sure'. Suzanne nodded politely as Amanda , now suitably refuelled on sandwiches and cola, skipped happily over and politely acknowledged her Head Teacher. Maureen Bishop gathered everyone round and explained the procedures for the evening, pointing towards the large assembly hall where the teaching staff was in wait. Each set of parents would be given a different table reference as a start point, she said, and would then spend about 5 minutes with each teacher , working their way round the hall so that there were no great queues and parents and children could ask and receive advice from each teacher in turn. At the end of the introduction, each parent was given a table number and they began the walk up the corridor towards the waiting staff. As the door to the assembly hall was pushed open and the echoes of moving chairs and tables could be heard in the vast auditorium, Suzanne felt her stomach tighten up once more and , to Amanda's surprise, suddenly gripped her daughter's hand tightly and held on. As they walked on through the hall, Suzanne noting each table number as they passed the sea of tutorial faces now gathering a ring of parents around each table , her eye alighted on their allotted reference table and she looked over at the man who sat there. He was grey haired now and a little shrunken but there was no mistaking that face. Suzanne stared in disbelief and her knees buckled for a second, her hands suddenly cold as ice as Amanda whispered 'What's wrong, mom, you've gone pale!' Shakily, trying desperately not to throw up, she replied 'I just feel a bit funny, love. I need to go to the loo for a minute...feel a bit sick. Hold the fort for me, pet, I wont be long!' Hurriedly she turned away, politely fending off the concerns of Maureen Bishop and a few parents, and fled from the hall and back through reception until she found the comfort of the staff toilets. She entered a closet, locked the door behind her then sat on the toilet seat and burst into tears. Julian Morse was here, teaching at the college...teaching her daughter!