JAY IN COURT

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

In late November 1963 I was summoned to court. I was a junior member of the planning department in the local council. Earlier in the year I had been sent undercover to investigate a school called Tangmere Grange. I posed as a sixteen year old boy which was quite easy for me. I had found a blatant breach of the planning rules. The school had in effect doubled its size by using a hidden and unauthorised building - known as the Lower School. Unfortunately while I was there I had to take ten with the cane but otherwise the investigation was a success. The Council had launched a prosecution. I was the star witness.

I was a bit surprised the school was fighting the action. In the presence of Mr Lewis the senior planner, Mr Findlay my immediate boss, a police inspector and a man from the Inland Revenue I had revealed the building. I had demonstrated how the twenty eight boys there lived and worked. It seemed to me to be a cast iron case. Mr Lewis put me right.

"They might just get away with putting up the Lower School" he told me. "Its dimensions are almost within permitted development limits. What they can’t get round is the use of the building. However they will probably say that it was only in use for twenty eight days a year. That would also be allowed."

"But they’d be lying sir," I exclaimed. "Even though I was only there for a week, it was obviously in use all through the year."

"Yes, but it will be your word against theirs," Mr Lewis pointed out. "I suspect you may be in for a bit of a rough ride."

I didn’t like the sound of that. I had never been very good at any sort of public speaking. The idea of being in court under hostile cross-examination got me really worried. I’d rather get a good spanking off Mr Edwards, the Council officer in charge of the boys who worked at the Town Hall. We had to accept corporal punishment until we were twenty as a condition of our employment. So far I’d managed to avoid it; so far.

The night before I was due in court I was really nervous. Mr Foster, my landlord, tried to be nice but I was too keyed up. In the end he took me into his study, sat me down with a glass of sherry and talked me through the procedure. I felt a lot better after that. Then I got a long cuddle and a kiss. I was hoping he’d take me. But Mrs Davies, the housekeeper, was in. So we couldn’t enjoy ourselves the way we did when she was out.

"It’ll be alright Jay," he soothed me, " You’ll see. Just take your time and don’t lose your temper."

"Yes sir," I said quietly, "Thank you sir."

In bed that night I read through my notes for what must have been the hundredth time. I had compiled them each day I was at the school. I would be allowed to refer to them in court. I knew them off by heart by now anyway. By the time I put the light out I felt I could give my evidence. But I worried about the questions I would be asked. I was awake until about three in the morning.

The feeling I had when I got up was worse than waiting outside Mr Foster’s study for the tawse. Luckily I didn’t need to shave. I was shaking so much I would have cut myself. But once I went downstairs for breakfast I recovered. I wasn’t very hungry but Mrs Davies had cooked me egg and bacon on toast. I started to force it down. Then my appetite returned and I finished it happily.

"That’s better," she smiled. "A good breakfast will see you through the day. And there’ll be a nice supper waiting for you when you get back."

"Thanks Miss," I grinned.

I went back upstairs and checked I was a smart as I could be. I shined my shoes to gleaming perfection. My jacket seemed a little grubby so I took it off and put a freshly cleaned suit on. That looked much better. I carefully brushed my hair, cleaned my teeth and re-tied my tie. I was ready.

Mr Foster saw me off. "Good luck Jay," he said. "You can come in for a sherry tonight."

I grinned at him. Tonight Mrs Davies would be out. I knew I was going to get more than a sherry. The thought put me in a really good mood. I walked to the courthouse dreaming of the pleasure to come. It wasn’t until I got there that reality set in. I began to shiver again.

I was in plenty of time. Our case wasn’t due to be heard until ten thirty. I hung around the building. There were a few other boys my age there. They were sitting staring at the floor or talking and laughing in loud voices. I didn’t think they were there as witnesses. A number of adults were also present. More came in. Suddenly Mr Rowan, the headmaster of the school appeared. With him was Mr Tyrell, the teacher who’d caned me. I tried to make myself invisible. Luckily they didn’t see me. They were with two other men, obviously lawyers, and went into a huddle at the end of the corridor.

At about ten past ten the Council lawyer came up to me. He introduced himself as Mr Joliffe. He explained what was to happen. This was a preliminary hearing. I was the only Council witness to be called. After I had given my evidence the defence would suggest to the court that they had no case to answer. If they were successful that would be the end of it. If the magistrates were against them then it would be set down for trial either here or at Quarter Sessions.

"So," he concluded. "Its all up to you. Don’t worry too much. If you’re thrown by a question just ask for time to look at your notes."

"Yes sir," I replied nervously.

"Got them with you?"

"Yes sir, they’re in my jacket pocket," I smiled.

I felt in my pocket. The smile froze on my face. Frantically I went through my other pockets. The notes weren’t there. I realised what I’d done. I’d left them in the jacket I’d changed out of. They were at home. I stammered an explanation. Mr Joliffe was furious. Even if I ran all the way there and back it would take at least twenty minutes.

"You’d better start now then," he said coldly.

I ran all the way home. I burst through the door, charged upstairs got the notes and galloped off again. I just yelled something at Mrs Davies when she anxiously appeared. Luckily I was fit from the running I had to do and the Council’s gym classes. I made it back in twenty five minutes, completely out of breath. Mr Joliffe was tapping his feet impatiently. I’d kept the court waiting. Almost immediately I was ushered into it.

I got some time to recover while the preliminaries were gone through. Then I was called into the witness box. I swore the oath and gave my name and occupation. Before Mr Joliffe could start questioning me one of the three magistrates interrupted. She was a small, wizened old lady who was sitting in the middle of the others. She wanted to know why I was late. I explained. I apologised. She sniffed and let Mr Joliffe carry on.

He took me gently through my evidence. I regained my composure. I identified the school on a map, produced its planning permission then pointed out where the unauthorised building was. I went through the routine of the school. He asked me if it was possible that the Lower School was only in use for twenty eight days. I said it couldn’t be because I wasn’t due to take my exams there until next year. He thanked me and sat down.

The defence lawyer got to his feet. He was thickset, with ruddy features and a loud voice. He obviously enjoyed the sound of it.

"Tell me, young man," he began pompously. "Why did you get ten with the cane on your bare bottom while you were at the school?"

I winced. Mr Rowan smirked to himself. I stuttered an answer. I had skived off a run. It got worse. I had a motive to get revenge on the school didn’t I? Why had I deceived Mr Rowan? Why had I forgotten my notes this morning? I had made the court wait for me hadn’t I? Was this proper conduct for a witness for the Council? Almost in tears, I asked if I could look at my notes.

"You won’t find the answers there," the lawyer snapped.

My ordeal seemed to last for ages. My evidence was taken apart piece by piece. How did I know that boys weren’t sent home after the first week and only came back at intervals? On and on it went. Finally he sat down. I gasped with relief. Mr Joliffe asked me a couple of questions. The lady magistrate sniffed in my direction. I could leave the stand.

I went to the back of the court and listened to the lawyers argue. The defence said I was a thoroughly deceitful young man, incompetent, forgetful and ill disciplined. No reliance could be placed on my evidence. The case against their clients should be thrown out. The bench retired.

I just sat there staring numbly at the floor. Mr Joliffe and the other lawyers chatted amongst themselves. I was sure after all that had been said that we’d lose. It would be all my fault. What would happen then? Eventually the bench came back.

"We find there is a case to answer," the lady magistrate announced. "The witness for the Council is to be congratulated for doing a difficult job. We find nothing wrong in the way he went about it."

I was stunned. I nearly burst into tears of relief. There was more legal stuff and then it was over. I stumbled out of court in a daze. Mr Joliffe came up.

"Well that’s that, Jay," he smiled. "I doubt you’ll be needed again. They’ll plead guilty and hope for a lenient sentence."

"Thank goodness for that sir," I said weakly. "I don’t think I could go through it all again."

"Jay, if you want to be a proper planning officer then you’ll have to get used to it," he replied. "Now back to the Town Hall with you, it’s nearly lunchtime."

I was quiet over lunch. Some of the boys asked me what it had been like but I only gave them short replies. I was still in a bit of shock. I think they realised this because after a while they left me alone.

When I went into the planning office Mr Findlay was there.

"Hail the conquering hero. Himself would like a word," he smiled gesturing with his pipe stem at Mr Lewis’ door.

Mr Lewis was sitting behind his desk reading a folder. He looked up as I came in.

"From what I hear you did well this morning, Jay," he told me. "That’s one case off our books. Now what’s this about you forgetting your notes?"

"I changed my suit at the last moment, sir," I stammered. "I forgot that the notes were in its jacket."

"What did we say at your performance review?" he asked me coldly.

"That I was too vague. I should concentrate more, sir."

"Doesn’t seem to have sunk in does it?"

"Oh but sir," I squeaked, realising where this was going, "I didn’t mean to. I just forgot."

"Jay," Mr Lewis concluded, reaching for a sheet of paper, " You forgot your notes. You kept the court waiting. You damaged our case. You’ve been told about this before. It’s time you learnt to keep your mind on the job."

I just stood there dumbly watching him scribble on the paper. He folded into quarters and put it in front of me on the desk.

"Take this to Mr Edwards."

"Oh sir, please sir."

"Take the note to Mr Edwards now Jay!"

What could I say? I picked up the note and slowly left the room. Mr Findlay looked up when I came back to our office. He started to say something, then saw the paper and my expression.

"Well," he said after a pause. "It was bound to happen sooner or later you know."

"Yes sir. I do try to concentrate sir."

"I know Jay, but I’m afraid you’ve got to try harder. Go along with you now."

I trudged down the corridors to Mr Edwards’ office. He worked in the Parks Department. He shared an office with two other men. When I went in the others hastily buried themselves in their work. They knew what it meant when an anxious boy appeared clutching a folded piece of paper in his hand. I went to stand by his desk.

"Please sir, I’ve got a note from Mr Lewis."

Mr Edwards sat back in his chair and regarded me grimly. He was a dark haired man, in his thirties. He was already going bald at the front but kept his hair cut short. He had been a P.E. teacher before moving to the Council. He supervised our gym sessions. Silently he held his hand out. I gave him the note. He opened it and read it.

"Alright Jay, come and see me in the basement at five fifteen."

"Yes sir," I replied mournfully.

I wandered despondently back to our office. What would I get? Spankings from Mr Edwards were whispered about amongst the boys. He didn’t do it often but when he did you knew you’d had it. It was always double helpings - the strap and the cane. Hardly any boys could take them and those that said they did were rarely believed. I was really for it.

At five o’clock I left our office with a heavy heart. I went to the loo and then made my slow way downstairs. As with anything else, a certain ritual had built up for these occasions. First I had to go to Mr Baxter, the chief porter, for the punishment book. In a way it was just as bad as the spanking itself. I duly presented myself to him.

"Please sir," I asked him quietly, "Can I have the punishment book?"

"The punishment book for Jay Bee," Mr Baxter yelled to one of his subordinates. Everyone in earshot, which was about half a mile, could hear him. I cringed. People going past stopped and looked at me. I just wanted a hole to open up in the floor. I knew what they were looking at. My bottom.

As usual they kept me waiting for it. It wasn’t until ten past five that somehow they found it.

"Here you are Jay," roared Mr Baxter. "The punishment book. Been a naughty little boy have we? Going to get our little bottom smacked? Good!"

Again everyone in the vast hall turned to look at me. I was bright red by now. There can’t have been anyone in the building who didn’t know what I was there for. I just grabbed the book and scuttled down to the basement as fast as I could.

I recovered my breath as I waited outside the office that Mr Edwards used to deal with us. The dimly lit basement was deserted. It had been made into offices during the war but now only Mr Edwards and piles of old documents occupied the place. As I waited for him to appear I began to shiver with apprehension. Personally I believe that no matter how hard a boy pretends to be, when a spanking is imminent he starts to tremble. I certainly do. My heart rate had shot up.

All too soon I heard his footsteps on the stairs. I took a deep breath to try and control myself. Then he was striding towards me. He swept by without a glance in my direction and entered the office. There was a pause. I heard the metal cupboard where the cane was kept being unlocked. I broke out in a new bout of shivering. After another period of silence he called me in.

Reluctantly I went to the doorway - there was no door. He beckoned me to the desk. I went in, handed him the punishment book and then stood in front of him. Lying side by side on the desktop were the cane and the strap. I just gazed in horror at them. The strap was a long, light brown piece of leather about half an inch thick and a good four inches wide. The cane was a stout piece of bamboo. I shuddered at the sight. Mr Edwards gave me time to consider them.

"Well, Jay," he said eventually, "I’m sorry to see you here. Suppose you tell me about it."

I tried to explain. I didn’t mean to be forgetful. I tried to concentrate. But this morning I was worried about the case. I was a bit scared. I wanted to look my best so I changed my suit. Unfortunately I forgot to transfer my notes to the new one. I was sorry.

Mr Edwards took time to think about it. "You’ve been warned about this before, haven’t you?"

"Yes sir," I admitted glumly, my eyes fixed on that terrible looking cane.

"A short sharp lesson on the consequences of not paying attention to what you are doing might be useful then?" He suggested.

I shuddered. I knew there was only one answer to that. "Yes sir," I agreed.

"Six with the strap and three with the cane," he announced.

I just looked at him in amazement. For him this was really lenient. I had expected a lot more. My shock must have shown.

"You’re not a bad lad Jay," he smiled. "You don’t need a good hiding. What you need is a reminder. When you take over your new duties in January I hope you’ll appreciate the difference."

" But," he continued sternly, " If the reminder doesn’t work then a good hiding may become necessary. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," I said weakly. In January I would become responsible for the discipline of the younger boys. Then it would be me seated behind the desk. On the other hand I would still have a year and a bit to go before I was free of Mr Edwards. I definitely didn’t want a good hiding from him.

"Right then," he frowned, "Let’s get on with it. Go over to the horse please."

I turned round. In the corner of the office was an old sawhorse. It was covered with a couple of gray blankets. Despite the fact that I was being let off fairly lightly, I found it difficult to move. But after a few seconds my legs started working and I went to stand in front of it.

"Take your jacket off and put it on one side."

I did as I was told. Even then I worried a little about laying my clean jacket on those musty blankets. Would it need cleaning afterwards? The next command made me forget about that entirely.

"Take your trousers and pants down."

My hands fumbled at my waist. I got the belt undone. The buttons were next. I had a bit of difficulty with them but soon they were free. I pushed at the top and my trousers slid to my ankles. My white pants were next. I grasped the hem and pulled them down. They stopped at my knees. Without needing to be told I stooped and pushed them all the way down. Then I straightened up. My bottom felt cold and vulnerable. I shivered with fear.

"Bend over the horse."

I slowly bent forward. I put my hands over the other side and reached down. A long, solid bar of wood joined the legs of one end of the horse to the other. I gripped it firmly. Then I moved my own legs apart and straightened my knees. I wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable. Then I stopped. I was now bent over the horse, my bare, quivering bottom high in the air. I was ready to pay for my sins.

After what seemed an age I heard him get up. He took something from the desk. Which was I going to get first, the cane or the strap? He came to stand behind me. A hand pushed my shirt high up my back. Then he stepped to one side. Cold leather caressed my firm, round bottom. I shook for a few seconds and then stilled. The leather was removed from me.

It swooshed back, landing with an echoing crack. A wave of heat and pain rushed through me. I gasped and shivered. I took a firmer grip on the bar. The second got me lower down. A new area of pain erupted. I shivered again. The third was a good one; right across my now tender cheeks. I managed not to yell but knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. Just one more. I could keep quiet for just one more.

I nearly didn’t. It was the best yet. It got me almost in the same place as the last, dead centre and right across me. My poor bottom was a sea of fire and pain. I gritted my teeth but I think a little squeal may have emerged. I wriggled about, bouncing up and down on my toes. I knew I couldn’t take the fifth.

But I did. It landed slightly higher up. It really hurt me. My eyes began to water. But I didn’t yell. I shivered uncontrollably, I writhed in pain, but I didn’t yell. If only I could take the last one. I knew it would be a real scorcher. But could I take it?

There was a pause. I imagined him looking at my burning cheeks, making sure of his aim. I heard him move his feet a bit. There was another pause. Then the strap swooshed viciously through the air. Again it exploded on my throbbing bottom. I nearly bit my tongue off it was so bad. Tears fell from my eyes. But I didn’t howl. I shook all over the place, but no sound escaped my lips. For the first time in my life I’d taken six with the strap.

He moved back to the desk. My pride at my achievement faltered. I remembered the look of the cane. I might have managed the strap. I knew I had no chance with that bamboo. The strap was laid on the desktop. A click announced the cane being picked up. His footsteps moved closer to me. A long, heavy cane tapped on my poor bottom. I shifted a little, got a firm grip on the strut and prepared as best I could for the agony that was about to descend.

The cane lifted away. It whopped back. It was as if a white hot rod of metal had struck me. I couldn’t help it. I shrieked in pain, I writhed and jiggled about. The tears now came thick and fast as I sobbed into the blanket. The second was just as bad. It was a little lower but really, really hurt me. Once more I howled my sorrow. I nearly jumped up but somehow managed to keep my grip on the strut. I was crying uncontrollably now, my bottom one throbbing mass of pain. It was so bad I couldn’t tell where the third one landed. It just did. Again pain exploded through my body. I was finished. I howled and cried and shook. If that hadn’t been the last I would have begged for mercy.

He let me stay down, sobbing softly by now, while he went back to the desk. I was so hurt I didn’t hear him go. I was too wrapped up in pain and misery. If that was a reminder I very definitely didn’t want a good hiding.

"You can get up now Jay," he said softly.

I had a job unclenching my hands from the strut. There were livid weals on my palms where I had gripped it. I slowly raised myself until I was once more upright. My hand crept cautiously to my backside. When he didn’t object I started to give it a rub.

"Get dressed and come over here."

I pulled my clothes back up. I paused to give myself another soft rub then put my jacket on. Hesitantly I made my way back to the desk, my tears slowly drying.

"In future young man, remember what you are supposed to be doing."

"Yes sir," I sniffed, "Thank you sir."

"Alright, you’d better sign the book."

He pushed it towards me. I read the entry. `Jay Bee - six with the strap, three with the cane - inattention to work after warning - comment: if sent to me again for this should get ten with the strap and six with the cane.’ I just gaped at it. Ten and six. I’d be a howling, sobbing little boy, rolling around the floor.

"Really sir?" I asked horrified.

"Really, Jay." he replied. "It’s high time you grew up. It’s only the special circumstances of today that got you off lightly. If there’s a next time, for whatever reason, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry."

"Yes sir," I said shakily. I vowed that that would never happen. From now on I would keep my mind firmly on what it was I was supposed to be doing.

I signed the book. He let me go. I had to take the book back to Mr Baxter. There were the usual caustic comments from him. I ignored them. My mind was on two things, my sore bottom and the prospect of worse to come. I went home a very subdued young man.

Mrs Davies had been true to her word. There was a nice supper waiting. But I had to tell them why I had dashed in and out of the house. I then had to say what had happened as a result. Mr Foster frowned at me. I knew he was wondering if his plans for the evening had been ruined.

After Mrs Davies had gone out I put my shorts and T shirt on and went down to the study. At first he wasn’t pleased to see me. But when I was naked and he’d examined my wounds he became nicer. Once more he stroked me to the height of pleasure. Then I bent over his desk and let him take me. It hurt, not inside but where the cane had landed. I just gritted my teeth and hoped I didn’t let it show. Afterwards he forewent the usual good smack on my bare bottom to remind me of who was in charge. He cuddled me for a bit and massaged my sore cheeks. It felt really nice. I was in a much better frame of mind when I went to bed that night.

Jay Bee

July 6 1998