When I was a child, I developed a deep fascination for horses, as many young girls do. I would sketch their noble heads in the margins of my schoolbooks, and whenever the opportunity arose, I would ride with friends. Several of my companions owned horses, and although I did not, it was never difficult to find someone willing to share a ride.
Not far from our home stood an ancient estate. The elderly Mrs Nelson, who resided there, had once possessed a splendid collection of carriages and horses, or so my grandmother and mother often recounted. Yet, the property had fallen into disrepair, and the old stable was now considered unsafe. We were strictly forbidden to enter. It was both trespassing and perilous.
One golden afternoon, my friend Leslie and I strolled past the Nelson estate. The iron gate stood ajar, and the grounds were silent. We decided to wander through the garden and perhaps greet Mrs Nelson, whom we all admired.
We knocked at the front door, but no one answered. Undeterred, we circled to the side porch and rapped on the French doors. Still, there was no reply. Just behind the house loomed the carriage house and stable, and, forgetting all warnings, we resolved to explore. In our nine-year-old minds, having knocked, we were not trespassing. The place seemed deserted.
I pushed the door open with great caution. The interior was dim, the shutters closed and battered, allowing only thin bands of sunlight to stripe the dusty floor. Leslie and I stepped inside.
We tiptoed through the rooms, discovering that the rear of the carriage house contained the horse stalls, long empty. Old straw still littered the ground, and ancient tools hung from the walls, rusted and forgotten.
Suddenly, Leslie stumbled over a loose board. Her foot plunged through, scraping her ankle and twisting it. She cried out in pain. I hastily pulled the board aside, revealing a gaping hole into the cellar below. Leslie’s ankle bled from the scrape, but she insisted the twist was not severe.
Fearful of more hidden dangers, we dared not walk upright. Instead, we crawled, one after the other, towards the door leading back to the carriage house. At that moment, the door swung open and Mr Jenckes, the caretaker, entered, calling, “Who is there?”
“It is I, Mr Jenckes—Gigi. Leslie is with me.” “Who cried out?” he asked. Leslie replied, “I did, Mr Jenckes. The floor is loose here, and I hurt my ankle.” Mr Jenckes hurried to us and helped us into the bright sunlight.
“What were you two doing in there?” he demanded, examining Leslie’s leg and leading her to the house to wash the wound. We explained that we had sought Mrs Nelson, and, finding no one, had merely looked at the carriage house.
Mr Jenckes frowned. “Mrs Nelson is visiting her sister in Orlando until next week. You two are in quite a bit of trouble.” “Oh, we shall leave at once. We meant no harm. Please give Mrs Nelson our regards,” I said, attempting to sound cheerful. But Mr Jenckes had other plans.
“You two sit right there—I am going to telephone your parents, Gigi. I do not know your friend’s number, but I am certain your family will.” My heart sank. I had been expressly forbidden to set foot on this property. I knew I would be punished. I wondered who would answer the call—Nanny, Father, or Mother? I could not guess.
I do not know with whom he spoke, but Mr Jenckes soon announced that someone would arrive shortly. We were to wait. Father’s driver appeared, and dread filled me—Father was known for his severe punishments. “Please let him be away from the house,” I prayed silently. Leslie looked pale with fear.
We entered the car and were driven the short distance to my home. Suzanne greeted us at the door. Evidently, Mother had telephoned Leslie’s mother, and the driver would take Leslie home. They did not wish her to walk on her injured ankle until it had been examined. I was summoned inside.
Tears welled in my eyes as I approached the house. Suzanne led me into the front hall and informed me that Mother awaited me in the drawing room.
“Well, what do we have here, Gigi? You were in the Nelson carriage house, Leslie got hurt and Mr Jenckes is upset.” I hung my head in shame. Why didn’t I think of these things before I did them?
“You know that you will have to be punished, Gigi, don’t you?” I nodded. Why do I get into so much trouble? “Go up to the nursery. Wait for me there. I have to finish this letter.”
I left Mother and went up the big front staircase and walked around the house until I reached the nursery wing. Jeff was playing with some little cars and his railroad trains.
“Hey, Gigi, want to play?” he called out as I came in. “No, I’m in trouble.” “What did you do?” Jeff looked really concerned. He sat back and looked at me. “Leslie and I went to Mrs Nelson’s and went into the stable.” As I said that, I burst into tears and ran into my room, leaving Jeff behind me. I climbed into the big armchair by the window and cried and cried with my teddy bear.
It wasn’t long before Mother came into the room. Nanny was with her. Nanny shook her head and said something in a strong Scottish dialect that I didn’t understand. She told my mother that she would take Jeff down for tea. Mother nodded, not taking her eyes off me for a minute. Nanny closed my door, leaving us alone together.
“OK, Gigi, let’s get to this, sweetheart. You know I have to spank you, right?” “No, we could just talk about it, and I would never go there again.”
“Yes, we can talk about it, and we will, but you will also be punished. I do not want to do this. Do you want to wait here in your room for Daddy?” “No, please!” “All right, then.” Mother came over to me and led me out of the chair. My bear fell to the floor, and she picked it up and put him on my bed.
“Take off your dirty shoes, Gigi – they have been in a barn.” I sat on the floor and pulled them off, one by one. “Stand up, now.” Mother helped me to my feet. She took me to a chair and stood me in front of her.
She continued to discuss the dangers of that barn.
she placed me face down over her knees. With her elbow, she held my back in place
Then the spanking began – and, oh my, it was awful! Mother even separated my legs a bit to be able to place spanks on my inner thighs. I was spanked from my knees to my waist and all around the sides. I was jumping all over her lap.
I stood up, I squatted down, up and down, up and down. Nothing helped that pain. “Now! Stop the crying! I did not spank you that hard! I just spanked you in a lot of places. Think about the danger you put Leslie in.”
I couldn’t think about anything. Why do parents ask philosophical questions when you are trying to put the skin back on your bottom? I knew that Leslie would be OK. I wished I had hurt my ankle instead.
Mother took hold of me again and shook me. She pulled me nose to nose with her as I continued to rub my bottom.
“Now, tell me the rules about Mrs Nelson’s place!” I – can’t – go – there – ever – any – more,” I sobbed. “That’s right. Not unless one of the grown-ups is with you. Is that clear?” “Y-yes.” It was really hard to talk.
