The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 06

Patrick began: "Headmaster, forgive me if I say so, but I think that we are in risk of going places with this conversation which neither of us should wish to visit. I know I certainly do not. And sir, being utterly realistic, if you look at what you and I have just done together this evening and have done every Sunday evening for the past two terms, forgive me, sir, if I tell you frankly, that I do feel somewhat hypocritical in the outward face which I have to show to the boys as Head Boy in loco domini. I have already thrashed three lads with the birch for smoking and will probably find myself obliged to have to thrash several more both for smoking and drinking before the term ends. And I do hope you will understand when I look at where our personal liaison has led, where you provide me with drink and we indulge in sex together, I would find it hard to accept that boys succumbing to their sexual desires would be automatically punished."

"And Headmaster, if boys are to be birched for drinking, why should I too not receive the same punishment for accepting the drinks you offer to me? So Headmaster if I were you, I would not extend the birching edict to sex activities. As you so rightly say, you will not stamp it out, so just tolerate it. If there is a case of boys involved in sexual activities in public places and they are caught in flagrante, then, of course, we can thrash them to show that the rules are being upheld. It would add a veneer of respectability to what is, sir, in my view, a very murky area. If I might venture and opinion, sir, I think that you would be well advised, in this case, to let sleeping dogs to lie."

"Finally, if I might just set your mind at rest, sir, I have never mentioned to anyone the relations which you and I have enjoyed for the past months. No one other than we ourselves knows anything about what we do together. No one has faintest idea that you offer me alcoholic drinks or that we indulge in sexual intimacy. And on one final point to answer what I know is an unasked question, but to which I am sure you would like and answer; yes I do indulge in sexual relations with other boys both at school and at home and I also have certain female liaisons,. So you see sir, I am in fact completely normal in this respect. I am not ashamed of what I do, as I am now a young man and have a young man's urges and bodily needs, as do many of my classmates in the upper sixth, which I am sure you fully understand, sir."

Having said his piece, Patrick now shut up and wondered what the Headmaster would reply having been more or less told by his Head Boy that he was a hypocrite. Patrick had not actually labelled the Headmaster as such, but by inference in saying that he himself felt hypocritical, he had sort of tarred Mr. Godber with the same brush.

"Ingram-Lewis," said Mr, Godber, "You truly are an amazing young man in that you have seriously thought about the way we do things at this school. And I take your point, that there is more than a touch of hypocrisy in our relationship where we indulge in things forbidden to others; even to those young men, your classmates, of the same age as you. But Ingram-Lewis, life is, alas like that; it is full of inequalities. You know, young man, when you leave this place, you will find in the wider world that hypocrisy is everywhere. "Do as I say, not as I myself do," is a sentiment not often spoken out loud, but so very often implied. I am afraid, young man, that I have no solution to offer you. In many ways, I think one just has to accept that there are many injustices which one is powerless to put right and that the only solution is to accept the world for what it is,"

"I think you enjoy, as do I, what we do together, even though it is forbidden to others; and not only forbidden to others but forbidden by me personally. So I suggest that you swallow your admirable principles for once and let things continue as they are. In other words young man, let us both follow your advice and let sleeping dogs lie. And if I might just end our conversation with the following piece of advice: don't cut of your nose to spite your face. And if it is any consolation to you to know, my dear Patrick, (the change of name and the term of endearment!) speaking as an aged and somewhat lonely homosexual, which I am, you young man are just about the best lover I have ever had and you have brought a great deal of joy into my life this last year. I absolutely adore our Sunday evenings together and so to hell with the rules, even though I make them. Let's both make hay whilst the sun shines, for it is not going to shine all that much longer for either of us here at Rigby and for me, possibly not much longer at all."

CHAPTER 7

It seemed that fate threw Patrick and Colin Tomlinson, Tomlinson major, together in all sorts of unexpected circumstances. Their regular encounters over the recent past, where Patrick found himself falling on Tomlinson misbehaving, had led Patrick to a close a close familiarity with the boy's arse; an arse which he had thoroughly enjoyed caning on several occasions and indeed also had the undoubted pleasure of birching. Patrick was, in fact, completely honest in admitting to himself that he derived a certain pleasure from inflicting pain on his school mates. He knew that it was morally wrong, but he could not deny what he knew to be true. In the first week of the term, Patrick had caned both the Tomlinson brothers for going into town without permission and for not wearing their boaters, which was a school rule rigidly enforced and always resulted in severe punishment for those boys who were caught disregarding it.

And so, it might have been reasonable to suppose that Tomlinson major whose arse had just recently been thrashed for precisely these offences, would have learned something from his recent experiences; But had he? Well no; he had not! And yet again it fell to Patrick himself to come upon Tomlinson at the end of his latest illicit adventure; or should it simply be called a delinquency? Patrick began to think that such meetings were preordained as they occurred with monotonous regularity. Not he he minded much, for as we all know, Patrick, like the other prefects, enjoyed beating boys. But to be fair to him, he did not abuse his position and take the cane to any boy on a false pretext: the boy had to be breaking the rules. Patrick was then perfectly happy to let the wrath of God, in the form of a severe beating of the unfortunate lad's arse, bring reality to Mr. Godber's edicts, which were tantamount to being carved in stone.

On this occasion, which occurred in the third week of term, Patrick happened to be passing the main gate of the school just after four in the afternoon, when whom did he see slipping surreptitiously re-entering the school but our friend Tomlinson major. Tomlinson did not realise that he had been observed sneaking back into the school until he was suddenly pulled up sharply by Patrick, who had become his de facto nemesis. If Tomlinson was shocked or surprised by this confrontation, he did not show it, but began simply by greeting the Head Boy:: "Good afternoon, Ingram-Lewis sir."

And then began a protracted question and answer session in which Patrick tried to determine why Tomlinson, this time, albeit, wearing his boater, had been into town during class-time in the afternoon. "Good afternoon to you too, Tomlinson. Now perhaps you would care to explain to me why I find you coming into the school, evidently from town, at four in the afternoon, a time when you should have been in class. What were you doing in town, Tomlinson?" Patrick waited to see what implausible story the boy would come up with and he was not disappointed by the speed of Tomlinson's fertile imagination, which seemed always to rise to every occasion

"Well Ingram-Lewis sir, it was like this. I had an upset stomach after lunch and so I decided to go into town to the chemist's shop to get something to settle it."

"And why did you not go and see matron and asked her to give you something? After all that is what she is here for and she would probably have let you rest in the sick bay until you felt better."

"Well Ingram-Lewis sir, I really didn't want to bother matron and so I thought that it would be better if I went and got something myself in town."

"And so instead you asked the master taking the class when you began to feel sick to give you an exeat to allow you to go down town in the middle of the afternoon to go to get your medicine at the chemist's shop."

By now even loquacious, word-ready Tomlinson had begun to realise, that he was on a sticky wicket and that he had been caught again red-handed down town without any written permission go there. "Well Ingram-Lewis sir, I did not want to bother the master so I just sort of went. And I am sure as you will realise that it was a medical emergency and I felt that I had to take immediate action."

Patrick, who as we know, really quite liked Tomlinson, in spite of the number of beatings he had give him, and smiled inwardly to himself as he went on with his inquest, making the boy squirm more and more as he did so. "So Tomlinson, if I understand you correctly, you went down town with no exeat authorising you to do so. Is that right?"

"Well yes, Ingram-Lewis sir, I suppose it is; but as I told you, it did seem like a medical emergency and I thought I had better act quickly before matters got worse and I might have to be taken to hospital."

"So, to be quite clear Tomlinson, you cannot show me an exeat as you were in haste to deal with what you saw as a potential medical emergency."

"Yes, Ingram-Lewis sir, that's it exactly. You really have understood the whole situation sir."

"Well Tomlinson, I'm glad that you seem to have got your problem cleared up so quickly." Knowing full well by now that Tomlinson was, as ever, off on one of his tall stories, Patrick nevertheless led the boy on: "What exactly did you get from the chemist's for it obviously is very good as you look and sound perfectly normal to me now? Perhaps I too should get some for myself, to keep in case I too ever suffer from an upset stomach."

"Well that's just it Ingram-Lewis sir; I had just got down town when the pain more or less stopped quite suddenly and I no longer felt ill, and so I never went into the chemist's to get something to help me as I felt all right again." Here Tomlinson paused for thought as he racked his brain wondering what he could say to Patrick. When it came it was a pure piece of Tomlinsoniana: a flight of fancy: an explanation thought up on the spur of the moment, but one which showed what an agile mind Tomlinson possessed. "In fact sir, I think it was just gas pains which caused the problem and when they suddenly disappeared, the problem with my stomach suddenly ended and I immediately felt quite well again."

"And why Tomlinson, do you think that the pains suddenly stopped?"

"Well Ingram-Lewis sir, it's a bit embarrassing for me to tell you what happened. But you know how gas pains can suddenly release themselves sir, don't you? We all have experienced it. I think."

Patrick could barely stop himself from laughing out loud at Tomlinson lightening fast inventiveness; but he kept a straight face and went on: "My dear Tomlinson, I am totally intrigued to know how this miracle of a cure happened. Why don't you just tell me what occurred?"

"Oh Ingram-Lewis sir, if you really do insist and can pardon the vulgarity, I just farted and it was all over; all the gas was gone and with it the pain. So you see, it is all now over and I wonder if I might go and get some tea, sir."

"Not so fast Tomlinson; you boy, have a lot to answer for. You know Tomlinson, I am one of the greatest admirers of your agile mind which enables you to pull totally fantastic and imaginary explanations for your behaviour out of the air at the the drop of a hat. But as you and I both know full well, Tomlinson, the fairy tale you have just told me is a load of nonsense. You never had a stomach problem and you simply decided to cut classes ago off and play truant for the afternoon. Well, Tomlinson, that will not do. Once again you have flouted the school rules and your offence today greatly outweighs your last adventure when you and your brother went off down town, hatless and with no exeats."

"And so Tomlinson, I think you know what is now going to happen. But to answer your question, No you may not go and have tea. You will go to your dormitory and change into your gym strip and report to my study on the double, I expect you there within fifteen minutes, suitably attired for the continuation of these proceedings I shall await you there and I can promise you a very warm welcome. Believe me. Tomlinson, when I say that if your fart did not properly settle your stomach, what I am going to do to you will. In fact as you will see, it will settle more than your stomach."

By this time the boy had realised that all hope was lost and that he was facing yet another thrashing. He stood there, downcast, in front of Patrick, looking at the ground and for once, words failed him. Patrick then said, very briskly: "Well, Tomlinson, get on with it; go and get changed; I don't have all day; I want you in my study in your gym strip in fifteen minutes. Is that clear boy?" Tomlinson, now entirely deflated, nodded a silent yes.

Patrick had every intention of giving Tomlinson the worst beating of his life, as he had decided that he boy need finally to be brought into the land of reality. Tomlinson duly arrived at Patrick's study, where Patrick began: "Tomlinson, as I recollect, it is barely three weeks since I had the doubtful pleasure of correcting you and your brother in this very study for much the same offence as you have committed today. But in fact, your offence today is much worse; not only did you flout the school rules and go off into town without permission, but you did it simply because you had decided to absent yourself from the afternoon lessons. I hope I have got the facts right, Tomlinson. And then to cover your tracks you invented a cock and bull tale about a stomach problem: yet another figment of your fertile brain. I am right, aren't I Tomlinson? Correct me, boy, if I have misread the situation."

Poor Tomlinson, now totally deflated, just stood there and meekly agreed with what the Head boy had just said.

"Now, Tomlinson, perhaps you would repeat to me what I promised you on the last occasion that I thrashed you in this very room. What did I promise you, boy?"

Tomlinson now recalled Patrick's warning and was filled with horror with the realisation that that promise was now, in all probability, going to be kept. In a final attempt to salvage something from what was clearly developing into a major percussive disaster for him, Tomlinson wracked his brain for something palliative to say but finally came up with a feeble: "I'm very sorry, Ingram-Lewis, but you know, I don't quite recollect what you said on the occasion."

"I see, Tomlinson that you have clearly had a lapse of memory and given what it was I said to you, I am not at all surprised that you have erased it from your mind. Well let me refresh it for you, for I recollect exactly what I said. I promised you that if I had occasion to correct you again within one month, then I would birch you. Does that now ring a distant bell?"

"Oh yes, Ingram-Lewis, I do remember now." And then a piece of pure Tomlinsoniana: "But please don't feel you have to keep that specific promise; you could modify it if you wish."

Patrick had a hard time stopping himself laughing out loud at Tomlinson mental agility, but went on: "No Tomlinson I made you a promise and I intend, as a gentleman, to keep it." Tomlinson did not look particularly enthusiastic about what was clearly going to happen to him as Patrick said to him: "Well young man, the moment of truth has arrive, so if you would kindly step out of your gym shorts and bend yourself across the birching bench there, I shall be pleased to offer your backside a taste of the willow birch, an implement whose tender caresses you have not yet experienced. But you do, of course, know the unique qualities of the birch in general, do you not, Tomlinson? As I recollect it, I gave you a sound thrashing with the maple birch, after I caught you smoking last term. So come on lad; out of your shorts and let me see you bare arse across that birching bench."

Tomlinson slowly obeyed and when Patrick returned from his bathroom where he kept the instrument of punishment in a bucket of water, Tomlinson was in position across the bench, his bare bum poised in the air awaiting its fate. Patrick looked at the lad's arse and said: "Tomlinson, someone has beaten you since I did at the beginning of term, as I see some quite distinct marks of the cane still remaining."

"Oh yes Ingram-Lewis sir; it was one of the junior prefects who caught me running in the corridor and gave me six there and then."

"Tomlinson, Tomlinson, Tomlinson; when will you ever learn a lesson? How many times since the start of the school year have you been beaten for running in the corridor?"

Tomlinson thought for a moment and said: "Six times, I think Ingram- Lewis sir... No; wait a minute it is seven times, Yes ; that's it sir; seven times for running in the corridor."

"Tomlinson, keep perfectly still. You are going to receive twelve of the birch which I intend to apply to your naked arse as hard as I possibly can, in the hope, no doubt illusory, that as a result of this beating you will reform and stop committing your totally stupid acts. I trust that I have made myself clear Tomlinson."

Patrick then began very steadily to thrash the very inviting naked arse before him. With twelve strokes in view, he knew full well that by the time he had finished with Tomlinson's anatomy, not one square inch of it would be free of pain; Patrick always took care to see that both the back and the flanks of the recipient's buttocks were subjected to the scourge of the birch. He was, as we all know by now, a consummate artist with both the cane and the birch and under his vigorous expertise with the latter implement, he rapidly turned Tomlinson's arse into a painful, raw-looking, red field, flecked with the myriad of small welts left by the individual twigs of the willow. Even though the willow birch was not to be compared with the senior maple birch in terms of the pain it could deliver, it was capable of leaving the recipient's arse in a state of great pain. As stroke followed stroke, Tomlinson first of all tried to hold back his cries, but finally the pain just became so excruciating, that the lad howled at every strike.

When he had finished, Patrick told the boy to get up and put back on his shorts: "Tomlinson, let that be a final lesson to you. I know that you have a very sore arse, but you know, boy, you truly deserved it. Now; let me just tell you that if, for any reason whatsoever, you break the rules and I have to correct you yet again, you will get twelve cuts of the senior birch, the maple birch, across your naked arse strapped to the Rigby Horse in the punishment room. Believe me, Tomlinson, I am not joking and that is a firm promise, which I suggest you keep in mind. So mend your ways, boy, otherwise you will have another sore arse to contend with."

Tomlinson was, along with most other boys fully aware of the horror of the maple birch, that implement of torture put together by Mr. Patterson, the head gardener, which had acquired a mythical reputation as being the all time killer to be avoided at all costs. And so, chastened and somewhat penitent looking, Tomlinson eased back on his shorts, itself a painful business , as his arse was just so very sore and went off tearfully to get dressed for supper.. That, of course, in the normal way of events would have been that for the boy; he had sinned and had paid the price for his sins. But, alas on this occasion, the matter was still not over.