In the heart of our Scottish neighbourhood, there resided a boy named Freddie. It was well understood among the mothers that we were not to play with him, for his upbringing was considered rather different from our own.
My nanny, ever the guardian of propriety, referred to this as a matter of “breeding.” Freddie and his siblings enjoyed a freedom that, while enviable to us children, was viewed with some reservation by our elders.
One gentle afternoon, when I was six years old, my dear friend Betsy Thornton came to visit. Our mothers were close companions, and Betsy was a frequent and welcome guest. With Nanny’s assistance, we arranged a charming tea party for our dolls upon the west lawn, near the rhododendron bushes. The day was bright and full of promise, and Betsy and I were content in our play until we heard Freddie’s voice beckoning from within the shrubbery.
Curious, I inquired how he had entered, and he invited us to join him within the shelter of the bushes. Betsy and I, ever eager for adventure, followed. The rhododendrons formed a natural alcove, and within this green haven, we sat together, conversing in the manner of children.
Presently, Freddie announced that he needed to relieve himself. I was uncertain how to respond, but he did not seek permission. Instead, he declared, “I’ll show you what to do. You cannot always rely on a bathroom nearby.” With that, he demonstrated how boys might manage such situations outdoors.
Betsy and I, raised with the strictest decorum, protested that such behaviour was not permitted for girls. Freddie, however, insisted that his sisters had learned, and he offered to instruct us. Though he was younger, his manner was assertive, and we listened with a mixture of fascination and discomfort.
Freddie explained the practicalities, advising us to adjust our clothing to avoid soiling it, and to take care not to wet our shoes. He spoke with the earnestness of a child eager to share his knowledge, and we regarded his instructions with a blend of curiosity and embarrassment.
At that moment, Nanny appeared, her presence restoring order. “There you are. What is happening here? And how did Freddie become part of your game?” she inquired, her tone both firm and kind.
With gentle authority, Nanny explained to Freddie that it was time for him to return home, as we were needed indoors. Freddie, unaware of the true reason, departed cheerfully under her guidance.
Betsy and I returned to our tea party, but Nanny soon rejoined us. “Please tidy up and come inside. I must speak with your mothers,” she instructed. I pleaded with her not to mention Freddie’s “lesson,” but Nanny was resolute.
“Young ladies do not relieve themselves outdoors when a proper facility is available,” she admonished. “It is unseemly for ladies to undress before gentlemen, and equally improper for a gentleman to expose himself before ladies. Should such an incident occur, a lady must avert her gaze.”
With that, Nanny departed, leaving us to contemplate the gravity of our actions. Betsy and I exchanged anxious glances, aware that we had transgressed the boundaries of acceptable conduct.
We dutifully gathered our dolls and tea things and entered the house. Nanny met us in the hall. “Your mothers wish to see you in the solarium,” she announced, and ascended the stairs. Betsy and I approached the door with trepidation.
“Come in, girls,” my mother said. Betsy’s mother, visibly distressed, exclaimed, “Betsy! I cannot believe this has happened. Whatever shall we do?” My mother, with calm resolve, declared that I would receive a spanking for my unladylike behaviour.
Betsy’s mother, uncomfortable, suggested they depart. She assured Betsy that she, too, would be disciplined at home, prompting Betsy to weep. Her mother gently ushered her out, after bidding my mother farewell.
Once alone, my mother addressed me. “I wish to hear your account, young lady. I have already spoken with Nanny.”
I recounted the events, hopeful that my mother would understand. Instead, she reiterated the lesson Nanny had imparted regarding modesty and decorum.
“Gigi, I must discipline you firmly, for this is a lesson you must remember.
You could get into terrible danger doing things like this. I know you don’t understand. You simply have to obey until you are older.
“Right now, you know that Freddie was not to be there, and you let him. You also started to go to the bathroom outside, which you know is not all right. You involved a guest, which is inexcusable. This will be a very hard spanking.”
I started to cry. Mother was calm – too calm. It was scary. She sat in a chair near a leather-topped desk and called me to her. Standing me in front of her, she asked me to repeat why I was being spanked. I recited the list.
She nodded approval of my understanding and reached for my arm. She pulled me over her lap and, opening the desk drawer, took out a large ruler, which she placed upon the desk top.
“Do not reach back, Gigi, because I will slap your hand with the ruler if you do – do you understand?” I must have nodded. The spanking began in a fury. That ruler pounded all of my buttocks and upper thighs.
“You will never (spank) watch Freddie or any other boy (spank) who is going to the bathroom in front of you (spank) unless it is Jeff, who is your brother (spank)!”
The lecture continued – as did the spanks. I missed much of the lecture part for all my crying. I kicked my feet, and Mother brought the ruler down on the calves of my legs to bring a stop to that.
My arms were waving and I was begging her to stop. Finally she did, standing me up in front of her.
I was really angry at Freddie, whom I blamed for all of this. Here he had peed in our bushes and I got whipped for it. Where was that fair? I told Mother that it wasn’t fair, and she looked distraught. “I didn’t spank you for what Freddie did! I spanked you for starting to do it yourself! Do you need another spanking to understand that?” I shook my head and rubbed my sore bottom.
I was sent to the nursery to go to my bed until dinner. I went up the stairs, rubbing my bottom and crying. Suzanne met me on the staircase. She was on her way to help cook serve the dinner but she paused to bend down and hug me.
“Did you get a spanking, love?” I nodded. “Seems you did from your tears and the rubbing I see. Are you heading for the nursery now?” I nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.” I nodded and we continued on our separate ways. I always loved Suzanne.
Nanny greeted me. I backed past her to get to my room, for I knew she wanted to get a hold of my bottom in the worst way. As I opened my bedroom door, she caught up with me and briefly held me to plant several spanks on my bottom.
I hardly felt them because they were over my clothing and very light. I think it just made her feel better to know that she had been a part of my correction – for, after all, she was the one who had caught us,
