By SUSAN POPE

Last updated at 10:37 07 April 2008

There was nothing ominous about the knock at the door, but when I pulled it open I was confronted by four police officers and our street was thick with panda cars.

This is not a scene you see too often in our home village of Great Malvern, not even if there has been a rare burglary in the respectable part of Worcestershire where we live happily among other decent, law-abiding families.

But the police were not coming to our aid. Instead they were coming to arrest me and my husband Folke for child abuse.

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Before the nightmare: Susan Pope and her three children photographed with an entertainer during a Christmas trip to Harrods in London in 2006. The faces of Guy and Harriet have been obscured to protect their identity

Looking me straight in the eye the officer said: "We are about to arrest you for cruelty and neglect to Guy Pope."

Guy is our 11-year-old son. And my crime? Smacking him once after he had ignored my warnings to stop his temper tantrum and repeated swearing.

He and his 16-year-old brother, Oliver, had then concocted a tissue of lies claiming we had starved and beaten them and - far worse in their eyes - refused to let them have their games consoles.

But rather than examining my well-fed younger son and his unmarked, if rebellious brother, the police had called in social services and arrested us.

Folke and I were about to be thrown in police cells for the next 32 hours, interrogated by detectives and warned we would be facing charges.

Worst of all, we would see our children placed on the child protection register by social workers who believe an isolated smack is child abuse.

Nearly a year later I've lost my job at a private school - and my unblemished career with it - and my family is still subject to the whims of the social services because, I believe, we had the temerity to fight our corner.

Resolute: Despite her ordeal, Susan Pope says parents must have the right to punish children

For all the heartache, however, I can appreciate a certain bitter irony in finding myself in this position.

I worked with children throughout my 25-year career as a nurse - first in paediatrics and A&E, and latterly at Malvern St James, a local all-girls private school.

I am aware of the boundaries when it comes to discipline inside and outside the home, but if society needs boundaries to avoid anarchy, then so do children.

My husband and I moved to Worcestershire in 1987. Folke is a chartered surveyor and we have three children: Oliver, now 17, is at a sixth-form college, Guy is at the local comprehensive and Harriet, nine, attends Malvern St James.

I had just picked up Guy and Harriet from school on the Thursday before the bank holiday weekend last May when they began to bicker.

Guy was in a foul mood when we reached home and my patience was wearing thin because, despite repeated warnings, he began to swear at me rather than calm down.

"Guy, enough is enough," I said. "I will not have you swearing at me.

"You have already been warned about this. If you don't stop you will get a smack."

He stormed out of the house and went off in search of Oliver.

When they returned, there was more trouble. Guy said "F*** off, you cow" to me once too often, so I smacked him once on the backside, firmly but not hard.

Smacking is a last resort, but Folke and I believe it is our right as parents to administer this punishment if absolutely necessary.

Guy and Oliver stormed off. Folke went to fetch them - we had a good idea where they'd be.

Oliver had fallen in with a local family who to me represent many of the problems in society: the children (who have different fathers) are able to do as they please without any parental control.

Oliver had been playing truant and would sometimes stay with this family at night. As much as we disapproved, at least he was safe.

When Folke arrived at this family's house he was met by the police.

An officer said: "Serious allegations of physical and mental abuse have been made against you by your children and you are not allowed to go near them."

The allegations were, of course, completely untrue. Oliver subsequently admitted he had provoked Guy before calling the police himself and making the claims on Guy's behalf.

Folke returned home furious but also in a state of shock.

Then two policemen arrived at our house and said they wanted to check Harriet was safe.

Incredibly, we were also told Guy was going to stay with this other family despite the fact that they had not been subject to any Criminal Record Bureau checks and had no foster-parenting experience.

There was not even any Emergency Protection Order (EPO) in place - required before your children can be subject to local authority care.

I felt our family was fragmenting before our eyes.

Knowing you cannot go near your child and have lost all sense of control is agony. But I was determined to hold it together.

Both boys stayed the night with this family and the next morning I tried frantically to contact Social Services.

Eventually a social worker called us and said: "You're not allowed to see Guy this weekend. We will be reviewing the situation after the bank holiday."

With the benefit of hindsight we should have called a solicitor immediately, but we were in shock.

So Folke spent the weekend sanding floorboards while I tried to keep Harriet entertained.

Since Oliver was 16 at the time, there was little we could do but let him fend for himself.

On Tuesday, we went to our solicitor Nick Turner and began to kick up merry hell with Social Services.

We warned them that because they had no EPO they had no right to dictate where Guy went and we would see them in court.

Rather than apologise, they told us: "We will be interviewing your children whether you like it or not.

"You are under investigation for child abuse. Stay away from Guy."

Just as we were about to leave to go to court, the police arrived and placed us under arrest on suspicion of child abuse.

Folke had to text his father and brother asking them to attend the court in our absence.

At Worcester police station, I was ordered to remove my hair grip and pins and had to place my Kurt Geiger shoes next to a pair of trainers belonging to a tramp.

We spent the next 32 hours in freezing cells furnished with a plastic mattress, threadbare pillow and a filthy lavatory.

I had to ring for lavatory paper - supplied four sheets at a time.

Eventually, on Friday evening, I was led into a tiny interview room where two stern-faced female detectives lay in wait.

Initially I felt scared but then an overwhelming sense of outrage swept over me.

"Why did you smack Guy's bottom?" demanded one of the officers.

"Surely you know this is abuse? Why have you not fed him properly?"

"This is ridiculous," I said. "My son is not emaciated and smacking is only used as a last resort.

"As far as I know, reasonable chastisement is still legal in this country."

Later that night we were released on bail but warned we faced further investigation.

Indeed, as we walked away from the police station, a social worker appeared and warned us we still could not see Guy except under supervision for two hours a week.

In the meantime they were going to assess us as parents. That was the first time I had ever heard my husband tell someone to "F*** off".

By the time we arrived home we were dishevelled, filthy and on the edge of hysteria.

But thankfully there was some good news: the judge had thrown out Social Services' case because officials did not have a leg to stand on.

My brother-in-law had contacted them after the ruling and said: "We are collecting Guy and there is nothing you can do about it."

Guy had been away from our house for seven nights and was getting very concerned.

The enormity of what he and Oliver had done had long since sunk in.

Meanwhile, Folke and I had yet more meetings to attend.

First was a child protection meeting in Worcester.

Moments before we went in, the supposedly independent chairman told me Rosalind Hayes, the headteacher at Malvern St James, was going to be there and that he had already told her I should be suspended due to the seriousness of the allegations.

Over the next three hours, Folke and I faced a barrage of accusations.

"Why does Guy have no furniture in his bedroom?" we were asked.

This was easy enough to explain. It was obvious, even from a cursory examination, that we were in the middle of refurbishing our Victorian house. The floorboards were being stripped, ready to be varnished.

But the accusations became more and more ridiculous.

"Why are you starving them and depriving them of toys?"

We explained that both allegations were nonsense. The "starvation" claim stemmed from the fact that Guy had been putting on too much weight, so when he demanded snacks between meals I'd sometimes say no.

As for depriving the boys of toys, Oliver and Guy have a Nintendo DS, a Sony PlayStation and a computer.

Like many parents, however, I would not let them vegetate in front of a screen all day.

Our explanations to the panel made not the slightest difference - we were told Harriet and Guy would be placed on the Child Protection Register.

We were horrified and humiliated but determined not to give in and refused to sign any paperwork.

Two days later I received a letter from Malvern St James confirming my suspension, although I was assured the school would support me.

Then came another knock at the door. It was four social workers, demanding that we sign a child protection plan so that they could assess our suitability as parents.

When I read it I noticed the names on the form were not ours. When I pointed this out, the senior social worker said he would cut and paste our names in.

Eventually we did sign a replacement-document because it seemed the only way to get Guy back home.

When we finally went to pick Guy up from my brother-in-law's home, he was deeply upset. "I just want to go home," he said. "Please, Mum."

We gave him a big hug and reassured him that we loved him.

Since then, we have been trying to piece our family back together again.

The police dropped the case against us but the assessment period imposed by Social Services, which was meant to be completed within 35 days, has still not expired and we have no idea when it will stop.

If the children were at risk then surely they would be the subject of court proceedings?

Being on the register means we must inform social services if we travel abroad.

And if we are in another part of the UK, we must tell the child protection team in that area.

But there is little chance of us going on holiday because I have lost my job.

In January, I attended a disciplinary hearing with my Royal College of Nursing rep, the school bursar Denis Smith and human resources manager Angela Hensher.

After a short preamble, I was told I was sacked - the end of an impeccable career, just like that.

Apparently, the school was worried about its reputation because my children were on the at-risk register.

A month later Mr Smith was convicted at Worcester Crown Court of dangerous driving and failing to provide a breath specimen - he had rammed a police car during an 80mph chase.

He was banned from driving for three years and given a suspended eight-month jail term - but he wasn't sacked by the school.

I am now taking the school to an employment tribunal, suing police for wrongful arrest and false imprisonment and pursuing more than a dozen complaints against Worcestershire Social Services.

Harriet is still haunted by the whole experience and finds it very difficult to sleep at night.

Guy has been trying to block out the whole affair.

Oliver has also finally shown some remorse.

"Look, I am really sorry," he told us. "I realise I made a terrible mistake and I am going to make it up to you."

He then went on his own to our solicitor's firm and made a statement withdrawing all the allegations.

Of course, we don't blame the children - they can't possibly have known what was going to happen.

But we are determined to take action against the police and Social Services, not just for ourselves, but on behalf of other parents who are being hounded in a similar fashion.

Parents need to have the power to set boundaries for their children.

Without discipline in the home, children grow up with no sense of right and wrong.

Folke and I adore our children and try to avoid smacking at all costs. But we would not hesitate to do the same again.

If our battle helps to restore the power of discipline to parents - not to mention teachers and police on the beat - then some good will have emerged from this terrible ordeal.

• When The Mail on Sunday approached Malvern St James, the school announced it had now accepted the resignation of Denis Smith on the grounds of ill-health. Police and Social Services refused to comment.