Read Online Rectory of Correction by Amanita Virosa - Free Book Online Page A

meaningfully at each of the other girls in turn.
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    Another man might have looked ridiculous in those baggy khaki shorts, Amelia thought as she stood in the line of girls outside the rectory. The Reverend Dawes in shorts and singlet, however, appeared even more formidable than he did in dog collar and tweed jacket. Partly it was the fact that more of his body was revealed. His biceps might not have been massive, but there was a well-honed power about the man’s lean musculature that Amelia found strangely compelling in an ominous way.
    Then there was his carriage. As always he stood erect, shoulders back, stance well balanced. The gym kit made him look more like an army drill instructor than a prelate. Certainly Amelia felt every bit the hapless conscript, quivering before his baleful gaze.
    The final element making him seem so formidable was the thing he swung casually in his right hand as he glared at the glum row of blushing trainees.
    â€˜After luncheon, every day, we shall have a spot of exercise. Whilst the weather is fine, this will be a nice long run. Make no mistake, girls,’ he slapped the short riding crop in his hand for emphasis, ‘I mean to mould your bodies, as well as your minds.’
    He produced a stopwatch from one of the pockets of his shorts. ‘The course will take us into and around the grounds of Hope Hall. The Marquis and Marchioness have graciously given me their permission for us to use the park. I am sure Amelia in particular will appreciate their generosity.’
    Amelia stared at the ground and clenched her fists.
    â€˜It takes me just under half an hour to complete the run,’ the Reverend continued. ‘I shall allow one hour today, as some of you,’ he gave Gretchen a meaningful stare, ‘are flabby and unfit. Take more than one hour and, make no mistake, it will be a good hard slippering on your return.’
    A slight sound behind her caused Amelia to turn. Faith and Rose, both attired in gym kit, came out of the rectory. Amelia remembered seeing Rose hauling the Reverend’s pony-cart in the Silver Cup. As a loser the girl had been flogged unmercifully. A few fading welts could yet be seen on her pale upper thighs, but otherwise she seemed to have recovered.
    â€˜Rose will lead off as she knows the course. Do not go too fast, girl; the others will need to keep you in sight. Faith will bring up the rear and keep an eye out for stragglers.’
    The Reverend looked at the quailing row of girls, stopwatch in one hand and riding crop in the other, and it seemed to Amelia that he almost smiled. ‘All right, girls,’ he said quietly, ‘go!’
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    Even before the run started terror had engulfed her. As soon as she heard the dread phrase, ‘cross-country run’, Gretchen had felt sick to her stomach. She knew the other girls were, without exception, younger, slimmer and fitter than her. There was no doubt they would be faster too. The next hour or so, she knew with hideous certainty, was going to be the purest form of hell.
    Nor was she mistaken. Rose had led the little pack of runners off up the rectory drive, the Reverend running back and forth along the line of girls, shouting encouragement and swishing his crop by way of punctuation. By the time they reached the road out of Hatherby Gretchen was already last. Faith ran beside her with a concerned expression.
    â€˜Come on, Gretchen, you will have to run a bit faster, at least.’
    The road out of Hatherby wound gently upwards on its way towards Hope Hall. This easy slope was quite enough to leave Gretchen gasping within the first few dozen yards. Despairingly she watched Charlotte inexorably pull away. Though she was the next slowest of the group, every time Gretchen looked up, panting, the girl was more distant.
    â€˜Hurry it up! Hurry it up!’ Gretchen looked up just in time to see the Reverend Dawes lay a sharp stroke with his crop across Charlotte’s