Reformatory Girls Ch. 13

It is with some relief that Miss McCloud steps out into Miss Lucy's Consulting Room. For an hour and a half she has been standing in the cramped confines of the lavatory cubicle. Through a pair of strategically-placed toiled rolls she has been peering out of the small window: nothing that has been said or done in the Consulting Room has escaped her.

Yet still Miss McCloud can barely believe the evidence of her senses. In her career as Warden she has had thousands of delinquent girls pass through her hands, girls who have committed all manner of criminal offences. But never in all her years at Hazely has she encountered such depravity.

On several occasions she was tempted to reveal herself and put a stop to proceedings. Yet something held her back: an understanding of the devious lengths Miss Lucy would go to, to explain away her misdeeds; a need to establish the whole picture. And having witnessed the letter Karen Frayn was forced to write, Miss McCloud is glad that she allowed things to continue, despite the degradations the girls were obliged to suffer. For now she has something more efficacious even than her own testimony: she has hard, incontrovertible evidence.

She crosses to the door, delves into Miss Lucy's bag, and removes Karen Frayn's letter, which she slips into her own Uniform pocket.

Then, sniffing the air which still reeks of sex, she exits the Consulting Room and enters the Waiting Room.

The girls, who are all wondering why they have not been sent on their way to the Recreation Yard, see Miss McCloud approach Miss Bulstrode and draw her aside. They cannot hear what is being said, but they are aware that an intense conversation is taking place. Karen Frayn watches intently, wondering. Clare is too locked into her own suffering to notice. Not only can she taste Miss Lucy's piss in her mouth, and feel the foul liquid almost burning inside her, but an itching sensation has just started up in her pants, and the need to scratch is growing more urgent by the second.

Then Clare is aware of Miss McCloud standing over her.

"Clare, please come with me," Miss McCloud is saying.

The other girls watch in surprise as Clare follows Miss McCloud back towards the Consulting Rooms. Miss Bulstrode, meanwhile, is in conversation with the other Wardens, one of whom, Miss Armstrong, leaves the Waiting Room only to return minutes later accompanied by Miss Harman.

Inside Miss Lucy's Consulting Room Miss McCloud asks Clare to remove her skirt and knickers and lie on the couch. When Clare has done this Miss McCloud slips the plastic bedpan under Clare's bottom. Clare, who is wondering what is going on, groans aloud: she is already close to breaking point: an enema is the last thing she needs.

Miss McCloud reads her thoughts:

"Do not worry Clare," she says. "I am not about to administer an enema. I am afraid you have been the victim of a cruel prank: some itching powder has been introduced into your vagina."

"Oh my God," says Clare: "so that's why I've been itching."

"Indeed it is Clare," says Miss McCloud. "But I shall attempt to wash it all off you."

Clare watches, going back over her encounter with Miss Lucy, as Miss McCloud fills a jug with warm water and returns to the Examination Couch carrying the flannel.

"Try to lie still Clare," says Miss McCloud. "I shall not further inconvenience you by fastening your feet into the stirrups."

Clare lies as still as she can, fighting back the urge to scratch at the itching in her vulva. She feel a pleasant warmth between her legs as Miss McCloud holds the flannel over her, parts the folds of her vulva with one hand and squeezes out the flannel with the other. She does this a second time, then a third, moving Clare's genitals around such that the warm water can flow into all her crevices and flush out the irritant powder. That done she dips the flannel once again into the jug, and this time gently draws it down between the folds of Clare's vulva, trying to work it around her labia, into the opening of her vagina, and down the crevices between her mound and the tops of her legs.

"I think that is the best we can do for now," she says, as she dries Clare on the towel. "Hopefully you will feel more comfortable."

Clare is dying to ask questions: how does Miss McCloud know about this? But the Warden is going about things purposefully, as though there are still pressing matters to attend to, so Clare refrains.

"There may be traces in your knickers still," she tells Clare. "I will take them for now, and see that you are given another pair later. Please put on your skirt. You may still feel the urge to scratch: I would advise you to resist, as it will only aggravate the itching. However, if you must scratch then you may do so: you will not be punished."

Amazed at the way events are turning, Clare does up her skirt as bidden and prepares to follow the Warden out. But before they leave Miss McCloud takes a tumbler to the cold tap and fills it with water.

"Drink this Clare," she says. "It will not remove the taste entirely: but it may render the sensations in your mouth less unpleasant."

Across the corridor Miss Lucy is feeling impatient: her Aunt has chosen this time of all times to bend her ear on the subject of Invoices and Supplies. She listens with less than half an ear, and is relieved when Miss Bulstrode puts her burly head round the door and asks for a private word with Matron. She prepares to take her leave, and is frustrated anew when Miss Bulstrode asks her to remain a minute.

Presently Miss Bulstrode and Matron return: scarcely five minutes have passed: but Matron is looking ten years older.

"Please accompany us into the Waiting Room," Miss Bulstrode says to Miss Lucy.

By now Miss Lucy realises something is up. One of those girls has gone telling tales. Her eyes rove over them all as she follows her Aunt and Miss Bulstrode into the Waiting Room. She pays particular attention to Karen Frayn - surely Karen daren't compromise herself? - and to Clare Davenport. Whichever girl it is, she is going to wish she had kept her lies to herself, and not tried to cross Miss Lucy.

Once she is inside the Waiting Room, Miss Bulstrode and her Aunt step back, and she finds herself confronted by Miss McCloud.

"Ah, Miss Lucy," says Miss McCloud. "Some disturbing information has come to me, and I would be grateful for you opinion."

"What information?" asks Miss Lucy.

"I have heard that in addition to your duties of shaving the girls, you have also been conducting rectal examinations and administering enemas."

Is that all thinks Miss Lucy.

"That is correct," says Miss Lucy. "Such things are part of my duties. I do them sparingly and only when necessary."

"Of course," says Miss McCloud. "I understand. And when you do them, you do them as un-intrusively as possible and with due regard to the girl's welfare?"

"Naturally," says Miss Lucy, and Miss McCloud cannot help but detect the undertone of insolence and contempt in the girl's attitude.

"That is good," says Miss McCloud: "But sadly that is not the only concern that has come to my attention. It has also been suggested to me that on occasion you deliberately arouse the girls: that is, you stimulate them sexually."

"Miss McCloud," says Miss Lucy, looking the Warden straight in the eye without blinking: "the girls I shave are often sexually frustrated. When I am shaving them it is true that some of them try to arouse themselves sexually, despite all I do to discourage this. There are even some girls who ask me to give them sexual relief. When I refuse, they are disappointed and bitter. They have doubtless made up these lies out of pique - to try to get back at me."

"I see," says Miss McCloud. "So that is the way of things."

"May I ask who has been spreading these lies?" asks Miss Lucy.

"We will not go into names," says Miss McCloud."

"Well whoever these girls are," says Miss Lucy, "I feel that they should be punished."

"Do not worry on that score," says Miss McCloud. "The girls who are guilty of lying will be punished."

The girls in the Waiting Room are watching all this with baited breath. They do not know what is going on, but they know it is something serious. But why is Miss McCloud allowing Miss Lucy to fob her off so easily?

"What would you say," Miss McCloud persists, "if a girl was to claim you had urinated into her mouth and made her swallow it?"

There is a gasp from the girls in the room: from all except Clare Davenport who stares down at the floor in front of her.

Clare Davenport, thinks Miss Lucy. That little bitch. My God, she is going to pay for this.

"I would say that she was a malicious liar," says Miss Lucy. "And a girl with a disgusting imagination. I would say that she should be punished severely."

"And what would you say if a girl claimed that you had forced her to write a letter to her father demanding he pay you a large sum of money in order that you refrain from abusing his daughter?"

Despite her poise, Miss Lucy is starting to feel the ground shift under her feet. Clare Davenport and Karen Frayn - the situation is more serious than she had first thought.

"I would say they were lying in order to discredit me," says Miss Lucy.

"Then perhaps you would care to look at this?" says Miss McCloud, producing Karen's letter from her pocket.

Miss Lucy does a double take: how has McCloud got hold of her letter? She falters for a moment - then regains her composure, reminding herself that these Wardens are nobodies, just sad institutionalised women as much prisoners of Hazely as the girls they watch over.

"That," she laughs. "I can explain that. One of the girls - Karen Frayn - begged me to let her write to her father. She has been offering me money for weeks to give her sexual relief. Of course I refused. I suppose I should have informed somebody, but I did not want to get her into trouble. Today I had had enough: I let her write the letter, but I had no intention of posting it. In fact I was about to show it to my Aunt, to ask her what to do about it."

Miss McCloud is staring at Miss Lucy in utter disbelief. In the Waiting Room there is a hush so absolute you could hear a pair of knickers drop. The only movement comes from Karen Frayn, who is wringing her hands, wondering how Miss McCloud got hold of her letter, and what the consequences will be for her.

Then Miss McCloud speaks:

"Rebecca Lucie, you have an explanation for everything. In fact you tell such a fine tale that had I not seen you with my own eyes I would have been inclined to believe you, and a goodly number of girls would have been punished unjustly. Now what do you have to say when I tell you that I have spent the best part of this afternoon concealed in your lavatory, and that I have seen and heard everything that has passed in your Consulting Room? Perhaps you will say that I too have asked you for sexual relief and that because you refused me I am bitter and vengeful?"

Miss Lucy's face has turned white. She has the look of somebody who has just taken a blow to the stomach and been severely winded.

"Yes," says Miss McCloud, with the ghost of a grim smile on her face: "I thought perhaps you would not have an answer to that one."

Rebecca Lucie's only answer is to reach out for support: she feels faint: she feels that any second her legs will give way beneath her.

"Here," says Miss McCloud, taking one of the hair-cutting seats and re-positioning it. "You had better sit down."

Miss Lucy slumps into the chair. Miss McCloud withdraws and Miss Bulstrode takes her place, towering over Rebecca Lucie.

"You will be leaving Hazely shortly," Miss Bulstrode says. "But before long you will be returning. Only this time as an Inmate."

When Rebecca finds her voice it is a very much smaller voice than the one she has used on Karen Frayn, Clare Davenport and the other girls earlier in the afternoon:

"No," she says: "You're getting this out of proportion: it was only a bit of sexual titillation."

"Abusing the girls," says Miss Bulstrode. "Blackmail. Trying to obtain money by coercion. I think you've done enough to earn yourself three years in Hazely."

The blood drains clean away from Miss Lucy's face as she sees her future before her: a future of chastity, corporal punishment, Reformatory Slops, and the total loss of her liberty.

"Please," she breathes.

"We've wasted enough time," says Miss Bulstrode. "I need to communicate with the Police without further delay. Matron: may I use your telephone please?"

Without waiting for a reply from Matron, Miss Bulstrode strides towards the door. As she exits Matron follows her:

"Please Miss Bulstrode, a word," she says, as she follows the Warden out into the corridor.

In the Waiting Room the girls look at each other in astonishment. Nobody dare speak, but their looks and their gaping mouths are full of eloquence. Clare Davenport, sitting without her knickers on, is the only girl not looking around her: for Clare is wondering whether she needs to scratch - and wondering whether the other Wardens know that she has permission to scratch. In the end she resists: for Wardens are apt to use the cane first and ask questions later.

Several pregnant minutes pass: then Miss Bulstrode and Matron return. Miss Bulstrode immediately rounds on Rebecca Lucie.

"Your Aunt has been speaking to me," she says. "She has tried to persuade me to keep the Authorities out of this matter, on account of the severity of the punishment you would face. She has also cited the reputation of Hazely. Personally I am not disposed to be lenient: as far as I am concerned you deserve to face the full force of the justice system.

"However: as a personal favour to your Aunt, who has given many years of valuable service to Hazely, I am prepared to offer you a choice: we can call in the Police: or we can settle the matter here and now."

Rebecca Lucie looks up from her chair: a sliver of light has appeared in the thunder clouds that surround her.

"Settle it here and now," she says in a shaky voice.

"Very well," says Miss Bulstrode, holding up her riding crop and rapping it against her palm. "You do understand what that means? It means that I and all the other Wardens will thrash you. Do you still wish to proceed?"

Rebecca Lucie surveys the black-uniformed Wardens, hovering around and above her. Something of her innate rebelliousness starts to surface: how dare these nobodies think they can thrash her? Yet the prospect of the Police, the doubts as to whether she could lie her way out of the charges laid against her, weigh heavier than her contempt and fear of the Wardens.

She nods her head.

"Was that a 'yes'?" demands Miss Bulstrode.

"Yes," says Rebecca sullenly.

"In that case get your Uniform Dress off, and remove your underclothing," says Miss Bulstrode.

"What?" says Rebecca. "Not here. Not in front of the girls."

"I think it is highly fitting that the girls get to see justice done," says Miss Bulstrode. "Now get a move on before I change my mind and make that phone call."

Rebecca casts a pleading look at her Aunt:

"Aunt," she says. "Can't you do something?"

"Miss Bulstrode," says Matron: 'may I make another request?"

"Well?" says Miss Bulstrode, who is not at all disposed to further clemency.

"Lay it on hard," says Matron.

"Oh, we will do that alright," says Miss Bulstrode grimly.

"A moment," says Miss McCloud, as Rebecca Lucie reaches slowly for the hem of her Uniform Dress. Miss McCloud undoes the button on the dress pocket, and pulls out a little round box, which she holds up so that everyone in the room can see.

"Itching power," she announces. "I am afraid at least two of the girls here have been victims."

The girls stare intently at the box, none more so than Kelly Watson:

"You bitch," Kelly ejaculates, as the final piece of the itching puzzle falls into place. Immediately she has uttered the words she claps her hand to her mouth, aware she has spoken out of turn: but for once none of the Wardens censure her.

Miss McCloud puts the box of itching powder into her own pocket, and Rebecca Lucie, Miss Lucy still to all the girls, slowly and resentfully raises the hem of her Uniform Dress over her shoulders. Still more slowly and resentfully she unhooks her black bra, steps out of her black knickers, and stands naked before the thirty girls in the Waiting Room.

The girls stare at her in mounting excitement. Only Clare Davenport has seen Miss Lucy naked, and the others take in her sensual curves, her fine full breasts, and the trim little thatch of dark hair on her pubis.

"We're going to give you what we call in Hazely a 'back and front'," says Miss Bulstrode. "That means six strokes on your behind and six on the front of your thighs. Any girl who has had the misfortune to be on the receiving end will tell you it is the most painful punishment Hazely has to offer."

Miss Lucy is literally trembling: her shapely legs are shaking, her knees knocking together. She eyes the Wardens with fear and loathing.

Miss Bulstrode takes the haircutting chair Miss Lucy has just been sitting in, and turns it around.

"We will start by having you bent over this chair-back," she says. "Place your hands on the seat and grip the edges."

The blood is pounding in Miss Lucy's temples. She will not submit to this, this outrage, in front of the Inmates. She is Rebecca Lucie: she will not allow herself to be thrashed like some Reformatory delinquent. But she has no choice: no choice at all if she wants to retain her liberty.

Very reluctantly she bends over the chair back and grips the seat.

"This is going to hurt," says Miss Bulstrode. "Brace yourself." She takes a pace back, braces her own legs ready to strike, raises her crop and brings it screaming down onto Miss Lucy's bottom.

Miss Lucy emits a shriek that has some of the girls covering their ears with their hands: she clutches at her bottom, half rises from the chair, then turns, wild-eyed, her hair awry. She looks at Miss Bulstrode with such a savage expression on her face that if looks could kill, that worthy upholder of Discipline would be writhing in her death agonies.

Then suddenly she lashes out at Miss Bulstrode with her fist, catching the Warden on her shoulder, twists away and, naked as she is, makes a run for the door at the far end of the Waiting Room. The Wardens are caught by surprise; Miss Lucy is already snatching at the door handle before they have sprung into action. All heads are turned; it seems Miss Lucy is about to break free. But one girl has other ideas. Standing nearest to the door is Kelly Watson: and before Miss Lucy can hurl herself through, Kelly has grabbed onto one of her wrists.

"Let me go you Harpy," screams Miss Lucy: she swings a punch which catches Kelly on her cheekbone and knocks Kelly's head sideways. But Kelly does not let go: despite the shock she clings on like a bulldog. A second time Miss Lucy raises her fist: but before she can land a second blow the Wardens are upon her. Miss Barker, who is the fittest and fastest, has her arms around Miss Lucy, dragging her back from the door, dragging her away from Kelly Watson. Screaming obscenities Miss Lucy struggles and kicks backwards at Miss Barker. But Miss Barker knows a thing or two about physical combat: quickly she has her arms under Miss Lucy's armpits and her hands clasped behind Miss Lucy's head, forcing it forwards and downwards. And before Miss Lucy can land a kick the other Wardens have seized her.

"Get hold of her legs," orders Miss Bulstrode.

Miss Armstrong and Miss Harman each have hold of one of Miss Lucy's legs, and have raised her off the ground, though so wildly is Miss Lucy struggling it is all they can do to hold her.

"You little wildcat," says Miss Bulstrode, advancing upon her. "Hold her legs open."