My wife brought the subject up, as I was sitting in my armchair hoping to watch T.V. on a Monday night. I had worked a hard shift down at the factory and had also got soaked on the way home. In spite of that, I was looking forward to a top F.A. Cup replay that was kicking off shortly. However, my wife was in no mood to let sport take precedence over her need to air her concerns. So, I left the remote alone and gave her my full attention. I had been married long enough to heed the warning signs.
The subject of our discussion, as always, was her young sister. You see, Harriet, my wife, at 27 was a good 8 years older than young Molly, who she thoroughly disapproved of.
Harriet’s parents had thought that they had finished having children when they had older brother Bob and then Harriet. And, years later, having another baby daughter was unplanned and a bit of an embarrassment for them. However, Harriet, was always bitching about the girl. The circumstances being, that Molly had been unable to get a job in the run down pit village where she had been brought up in the family home, and so, at her mother’s insistence, she had come to live with us in Nottingham. I think my wife resented Molly, firstly for being born, and, secondly, for having to make room for her in our home.
Molly was 19 now, growing up fast and turning into a very attractive young lady. She was developing curves in all the right places and had a pair of legs that I had trouble keeping my eyes away from. I didn’t think she was particularly badly behaved either, but, that was just my opinion and when it came to family matters like that, my opinion didn’t count. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept out of it as much as possible. Harriet could be a bit of a dragon, so, it was just as well to keep one’s mouth shut. That was my experience anyway. Harriet had a down on her and nothing the kid could do was right in her eyes. As far as Harriet was concerned, Molly was lazy, irresponsible, selfish, rude and cheeky. And that was just for starters. Anyway, around about that time Molly seemed to go through a bad patch in terms of keeping on the right side of her elder sister and my instincts told me that it was all building up to something. As it turned out, I was right.
The previous night, Molly came home late from the cinema, where she had been with her friends from work. (Molly worked as a shop assistant at a large department store in the town.) Well, when I say she was late. It must have been no more than 40 minutes, but, that was more than enough for Harriet to get worked up about it. For her, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Something has to be done about her,” fumed my wife. “She’s getting away with things too easily…She has to be punished.”
“What do you mean?” I said putting down the newspaper and looking up at her.
“Well, when I was a little girl, Daddy used to spank me when I misbehaved. Bob got plenty of it too. He made sure we were punished regularly, so we knew how to behave. He was a great believer in corporal punishment and in upholding family discipline. Even poor Mum got it when she stepped out of line or displeased him. We used to lie awake listening to her screams of torment. I tell you he was a right devil with that strap, our Dad.