Robbie Wilson 2.8 Big Brother Wrongly Accused


by Robert Wilson <Pollux99b@yahoo.com>

Grudgingly James conceded that he was awake. It had been a good sleep and he feared that waking would be a disappointment. However, the sun was streaming through the open window and the light did not hurt. Radio One was blaring along the corridor and the noise did not hurt- in fact he felt pretty good and had escaped the hangover he was expecting. His life seemed set to continue along its present charmed route. Last night he and the rest of the school hockey team had truanted from the founders day concert, broken bounds and gone out for a pub meal, where not only had they drunk excessive ammounts of beer and been rather rowdy but he had successfully groped one of the waitresses- admittedly she was only a townie but he still felt it to be a notable achievement. And it looked as if they would get away with it all! Only a couple of weeks a go he'd virtually gotten away scott free after beating the sh1t out of his younger brother. His life did indeed seem to be charmed.

After a token shower James hurtled into breakfast seconds before the servery closed. At the group of tables reserved for prefects he grabbed a chair amongst his cronies and started to devour his meal. After a few mouthfuls he came to the realisation that his behaviour of the previous night was not the most interesting topic of conversation. Following the pointing fingers of his mates he turned and looked through the panoramic windows behind him , across the sports fields to the river. At first he saw nothing strange but on his second visual sweep his eyes locked on to it- but his brain was slower to make sense of it all. There , on the cricket pitch neatly aligned with the crease was a parked car, not just any car you realise but the unmistakable battered and elderly bright yellow mini which was owned by Mr Ashford the new assistant games master. Like every one else James experienced a mix of feelings:- What was it doing and how did it get there ? How could anyone desecrate the cricket table in this way ? And by no means least, a high level of respect for whoever had engineered this particular stunt, it had to be the most audacious prank in living school memory.

The car had already caused some friction between Ashford and his boss Mr Pickering the senior games master. Soon after his arrival in the school, the car had broken down and had been semi abandoned by the cricket pavillion. Ashford had spent a few weekends trying to repair the thing but his mechanical skills were not up to the task, and his bank account was too overdrawn to allow him to employ a garage to do the job. Pickering was tiring of the sight of the little car and was impatient to see it gone- certainly before the school's sports festival week which was rapidly approaching

Staff from the sports department had spent most of the day trying to move the car. Due to two flat tyres itcouldnt be pushed away, attempts to use a forklift truk had been abandoned before serious damage was caused to the cricket table, the car was too small and awkward a load to be lifted with any degree of safety. At one point they'd tried a trolley used for launching the dinghys, but there was insufficient ground clearance . After nearly four hours a groundsman had worked out how the car had been got there in the first place and from then the task was swiftly and easily completed. (If you really must know, 4 scaffold poles [ part of the CCF command task kit ] were arranged under the car in a # shape stretcher and 8 people could lift it with relative ease).

Shortly after the close of the academic day, in response to messages from Mr Pickering, the hockey team had assembled in the cricket pavillion. It had been easy to catch up with them all for although they were drawn from both upper and lower sixthforms and no two of them was studying exactly the same combination of "A" level options the school central timetabling computer had tracked their scheduled whereabouts in hardly any time and e-mail messages to the individuals concerned, their teachers for the last period of the day and their housemasters ( just in case ) had been effective in ensuring a full and timely gathering.

Fourteen teenage hockey players ( the first team and three substitutes) aged 16-18 yo were subdued and apprehensive. Pickering's arrival was met with a fraught silence. Ashford's presence seemed an irrelevance. The question was open to all.

"Right- do you all know why you're here?"

But it was James the team captain who replied " No Sir- perhaps you could explain"

"I assume you know about the car on the cricket pitch ? Well, I think it was you who put it there"

"Oh no Sir it wasn't us, What makes you thi....."

"Be quiet Wilson- Why would I think it was you ? well that's simple. There is a long standing animosity between you and the cricketers, and none of you was in the Abbey last night for the Founders day concert. If I put these two facts together I reach an obvious conclusion".

"But Sir it wasn't us"

"In that case Wilson, be so good as to tell me where you were and how you spent last evening"

Fourteen pairs of eyes inspected the floor, none would meet Pickerings quizical stare. This was a no win situation, explain where they really had been and they'd be jumping from the frying pan into the fire- silence was not a surprising result.

Pickering posed two more questions and addressed them in turn to each boy

"Where were you last night- is there anything you wish to tell me about this incident?"

No one answered in a helpful way

"Well as you can't provide an explanation I will assume that I am right. Practical jokes are fine but this has gone too far. Almost a whole working day has been wasted by 6 people and we still have to repair some damage to the pitch. Apart from all that Mr Ashford's car could easily have been damaged and to cap it all this is not the way we expect school sportsmen to behave. You will each be caned- 6 strokes."

"You can't do that sir, we're sixth formers and prefects- we don't get caned...."

"Thank you for reminding me of that detail Wilson, in view of your seniority it will be six BARE. Now get ready all of you"

About the room fourteen pairs of trousers came off followed by an assortment of briefs and boxer shorts. The boys shuffled into a row and tried to stretch their shirt fronts as low as possible.

"Wilson you will be first- over here and touch your toes- I'm sure you know the way- I understand you've had a lot of practice with junior boys in the past term or so"

James made the long walk - all of 15 steps- into the midddle of the room spread his legs and reached for his toes, the classic position he'd been in so many times before and more recently the position he'd caused so many juniors to adopt. This time it was somewhat different he didn't deserve it- that was novel ! He was fairly sure he could still take six well enough ( only last month he'd taken a caning from some of his fellow prefects and that had not been easy), but games masters are somewhat better at this task than most others, and the senior canes that Ashford had magic'd out of thin air looked especially evil. So it was a somewhat troubled James who awaited his fate. The familiar pattern was started, shirt folded back, then a hand in the small of his back pushed him down to make sure he was fully bent, a couple of practise swings followed by a long pause. An ear splitting CRAAAACK followed by a searing white hot trail of pain across both cheeks. Christ I hope he doesn't keep this up for the next five strokes. But the hope was folorn. Three more parallel cuts then a diagonal, a final dramatic pause and then the almost obligatory final low cut across the tops of his legs- each as intense as the first. Pickering had done well, James was obviously suffering- ashen ,face rapid breathing even a couple of gasps had been heard , but James too had accquitted himself well and he and his rutted and firey arse were allowed up to watch the rest of the team suffer in turn.

James had been followed by his best mate- Northcott , and then a stream of boys had individually processed into the middle of the room and acquiesed at the treatment meted out to them. Each with a stiff lip - and a few with noticably stiff other bits. Pickering and Asford had taken it in turn to administer justice or at least exemplary punishment

At last Lawson - who had been number 14- stood up and shuffled back to his place in the row.

"Wilson - please come back as you are the team captain it's your responsibility to lead by example- you have failed in this instance and so another six may help to remind you of your duties - please bend over "

James was not at all sure that he could take another six, the first group had placed him very near the edge, has backside was already considerably damaged and another six could well push him over. Any hint of distress would lose him a lot of face. Oh God, it was going to be Ahford this time and he'd already seen this chap in action ( and been very glad that he'd suffered Pickering instead).

Strokes one and two were just bearable, in anticipation of number three he gritted his teeth so hard that his jaws ached. He thought there was not a square centimetre on his behind which had not been flamed already, but Ashford found some points and joined them with the already injured areas. Stroke number four provoked the beginings of him clutching his cheeks -but he quickly checked this action. Five and six were met with unmistakable gasps. When it was finally over he took a long time to straighten up. True he had been bowed and indeed beaten but, thank the gods, ( but only just) not broken; honour was intact.

James hobbled back to the group, it must be over now, his brain was as numb as his arse and he had missed the few words spoken byAshford, but as the others were now getting dressed he sought his own clothes.

"Wilson are you deaf or just stupid ? Come here"

James limped over- this was rapidly becoming a marathon. Ashford thrust a brown envelope towards him with the words

"This was found in the car- do you have an explanation ?"

The envelope was addressed to James and had a very recent postmark.

"It's from my Father - it's the way he sends us our allowance , he sends it all to me and I give some to Robbie er Robert my younger brother um er it must have got in the car after I gave it to him"

Clearly, Ashford was not impressed by this answer

"Is that the best you can do, try and blame your brother ? Every one knows where he was last night- in the Abbey with nearly 1500 witnesses including the headmaster and the bishop- he even played a solo. I think we can be sure it wasn't him, besides there is still £20-00 in the envelope- (he showed the bank note)-young lads may try and implicate their brothers but not if it costs them that much money. No Wilson you'll have to better than that. I don't think we've finished this matter yet, but for now you can go."

The hockey players made their way to dinner, subdued and in pain- but relishing they credit they would (falsely) receive for this jape and swearing all sorts of nasty revenge if ever they found the real perpetrators- currently the rugger players had the vote.

James however had the words of Ashford ringing in his ears - " .. for now you can go."

Somehow he felt his life was not so charmed and this chapter had a few lines yet to be written- and some probably to be etched on his own backside.


More stories byRobert Wilson