See What Happens

Then she looked at me, and her face changed to one of stern anger. “Sixty-five cents for the bread and (she paused, listening further)….. five cents? …… For the chocolate fish?” she finished the sentence as if it was a question, rather than a confirmation. Everyone’s heads turned to me simultaneously. To where I was, on the other side of the table, with my half completed, rapidly cooling dinner in front of me. Their looks surprised, intent and accusatory. My younger brother’s mouth dropped open. “Thank you very much”, said my mother. She hung the phone up. “I like chocolate fish too” said my younger brother. Then my mother spoke in a quiet even tone. “Go to your room” was all she said. I stood up. Oh dear. “Go to your room”, prior to the arrival of my father getting home from ‘across the road’ (the tavern/pub), meant to expect punishment form two, at the very least. And on this occasion, due to his actual proximity, it would not be long before he was home to present it to me.

I stood cautiously, I moved around the table keeping as far from my mother as possible. Despite her quiet tone, it was not a foregone conclusion that my father would be the only one to administer the from two type punishment. Keeping as far as possible from her arms length. Remember she was not a tall woman, but a clout from her carried the full weight of her person (see blog September 22^nd 2012). I went to my room, in the now familiar state of mind as I had on many previous occasions. I was certainly feeling remorseful (now). A little late after the event. In fact, I felt remorseful when I decided to buy the chocolate marshmallow fish. Not remorseful enough to say no at the time. But knowing that I was stealing it from the other family members. It was being paid for, but as no one else was sharing in it, and I did not have permission to spend the families money (five cents), it was still theft. I had once again ‘stolen’ something (also something very minor. In fact, one twentieth the price of the last deliberate theft, for which, I remind you, I also was caught and experienced the form one type of punishment – see blog 4^th November 2012). But stealing is stealing. I knew it was wrong and now had to face the consequences.

This time I was to receive a somewhat severe physical punishment. It was unpleasant and as well as the immediate belting I received, there was an extension in my father’s idea of what would constitute punishment. After I had been ‘dealt with’. I was made to stand in the corner of the bedroom with my arms raised above my head. I think the military had done this type of punishment over the years. They had of course made soldiers hold their firearms there as well. My father didn’t have any firearms (fortunately).

(Continued Tomorrow)