Chapter 10

There was a strange smell and I felt really odd. I tried to lift my hand to my head. The headache was unbearable, but for some reason my hand, my arm, wouldn’t move.

“This one’s awake,” came a rough voice.

I opened my eyes and realised I was lying, bound and blindfolded, on a hard surface. I wasn’t gagged though. “What’s going on,” I muttered. My throat felt on fire. I was ignored.

I listened. There must have been a least two people, just from the movements I could hear, but no one was speaking.

“Hello?” I called again.

I heard a muffled grunt coming from close beside me and turned my head in that direction. “Hello?”

There was a faint noise, then a whisper. “Toby?” It was Sandra.

“Sandra? You okay?” I whispered back, realising almost as soon as I’d asked the question that it was a silly question.

“No,” she whispered back, tears in her voice. “I think I’ve been,” she paused, “I might,” once more she stopped and I could hear her starting to sob.

I tried to move towards her, but found I was not only tied, I was tied to something as well.

There were footsteps coming towards us and I tried to listen. At least two, no three people.

My foot was kicked. Not hard, more to gain my attention. “What’s your name?” It was a different voice from the first one.

“Toby,” I whispered. “Who are you?”

“Not Steven?”

“No.”

“Or Adam?”

“No. I told you. My name’s Toby.”

There was a pause then the first voice spoke. “She called him Toby.”

“Hm,” said the second voice. “And you girl. You are Sandra?”

“Yes,” she whispered,

“Why were you together at the bus stop?”

“I was going home,” Sandra whispered.

“She’d been to see me,” I said. “It was cold and dark so I walked her to the bus stop. Her parents will be getting very worried.”

“Her parents?” came a third voice, scoffing. “Her parents are away with the fairies.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Her parents, like yours, have been kidnapped by these so called aliens.”

“What?” cried Sandra. “When?”

“Don’t try and be clever girl,” came the second voice again. “We know about that so called collection. What we’re trying to work out...” He was interrupted by Sandra.

“But my parents haven’t been collected! They were at home this morning.”

There was a pause. “You’re parents weren’t in the same collection as this boys traitorous parents?”

“No,” we both said.

There was another brief pause, then the second voice spoke again, but not to us. “Well?” he demanded of someone.

“She’s still a virgin.” This was yet another voice. So there were at least four people in the room.

I gasped and Sandra started to sob again.

“Shut up girl,” came the second voice. The one I now assumed was the leader of the group. “You haven’t been hurt.” He obviously turned his head away again. “You sure?”

“I’m a doctor and a gynaecologist. I know what an intact hymen looks like. Hers is still intact.”

In my head I named the four voices as Leader, Doctor, Whiny and Coarse.

“This doesn’t make sense,” came the third voice, Whiny.

“Shut up,” came the second, Leader.

“But...”

“Go find out if her parents really are at home you knob ‘ead,” growled Coarse angrily.

“How?” asked Whiny.

“Use your head,” came Doctor’s voice tiredly. “We have her phone. It’s got her home numbers in it I would imagine. Use it to ring home. See who answers and see what they say.”

“But what do I say when they answer?”

“You don’t say anything. Just listen. Maybe make a funny sound that may or may not be her. Let them talk first.”

“Uh.”

Leader spoke again. “These are the two hanging around with the bosses kid?”

“I’m sure they are,” replied Coarse. “Seen ‘em a few times.”

“But neither have a card, and she’s still a virgin,” came back Doctor. “That doesn’t make sense. If they were planning to kidnap her and go off with the aliens,” the voices were slowly moving away now, and Leader and Doctor were talking in low voices so I lost what they were saying.

I was about to say something to Sandra when I realised we were not alone.

“Fuck,” came Whiny’s voice. “Your phone’s locked. What’s the password?”

“I have to touch my finger to the sensor, it reads my finger print.”

“Here. You’d better open it up then, hadn’t you.”

I heard movement, then a gasp followed almost immediately by a screech from Sandra. There was more movement, hurried this time, then what sounded like a hard slap and a cry of pain.

“Leave her alone,” said Coarse.

“I only wanted to see what a real virgin feels like,” muttered Whiny in an even more whiny voice than I’d heard so far. “I’ve never had one before.”

“And you’re not gonna have one now. Maybe this one’s for the boss, maybe not, but you touch her again and you’ll be talkin’ in a high voice for the rest of your very short and pain filled life.”

“What happened,” I whispered to Sandra.

“Shut up!” snapped Coarse, giving me a kick in the ribs. “No talking unless spoken to.”

I gasped in pain and shut up.

“Make sure it’s on speaker phone,” Coarse growled, presumably at Whiny. Then, “What are your parent’s names girl?”

“Brian and Monica,” Sandra said softly.

I heard a phone auto-dialling, then silence for a few moments, then a click and the sound of a ringing tone. The phone at the other end rang about four times then there was another click and a woman’s voice.

“Sandra? Where are you love? It’s very late and we were worried.”

“MUM?” Shouted Sandra.

“Sandra? Darling? Where are you?”

“I’m in,” there was a noise and Sandra’s voice went muffled.

“Sandra? Sandra? Where are you love? What’s happening?” I could hear worry, even terror in the woman’s voice.

“Mrs Walmsley?” asked Whiny in a very smarmy voice.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Who are you? Where’s my daughter?”

“You are Mrs Walmsley?” asked Whiny.

“Yes. Who are you,” demanded Mrs Walmsley.

“My name is of no consequence. Is your husband there?”

“Yes.” Now I could hear her calling to someone. She had obviously lowered the phone from her mouth. “Brian? Something’s happened to...” there was a click and the phone cut off.

“That’s enough,” said Coarse. His voice was puzzled.

“Your parents went boy, but yours didn’t girl. Is that right?”

“Yes,” we both whispered.

“Why didn’t yours?”

“My parents don’t know hers,” I said.

“So... “ he went silent. “Here, girl,” he suddenly said. Lift your hands, I’m going to put something in them.”

Sandra made a funny sound then a gasp. “Oh. Can I... ?” she trailed off.

“Yes.”

“But ... Oh.”

I wasn’t sure what I was hearing, but I heard Sandra moving. “Um,” she began.

“Here,” responded Coarse.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Once again I could hear strange noises, then there was the sound of a zip and it all began to fall into place. Sandra had been naked. At very least from the waist down. I’d just heard her doing up her jeans.

There was a small grunt of pain from, I assumed, Sandra. “Sorry, but you need to be fully tied up.”

“Oh,” whispered Sandra, once again tears showing in her voice.

It finally became clear to me that Sandra had been scared she’d been raped. Well, she had been sexually assaulted, but fortunately not raped. I suspect that from Sandra’s point of view, right at that moment the difference was only minor.

We lay there for what seemed like a very long time. I could hear Coarse and Whiny moving about occasionally, but nothing was said. Finally, after what felt like hours, we heard footsteps approaching again. “Well?” demanded Leader.

Whiny spoke. “A woman answered. Seemed to be her mother. She called for her husband; and the girl said it was the right name for her father.”

“Well of course she would,” replied Leader.

“No,” said Whiny. “I mean we asked her their names first. Brian and something. Then we rang them and the woman called for Brian.”

“Uh.”

“So why didn’t your parents go with his?”

“They didn’t know them,” Sandra replied.

“Your parents didn’t know his?”

“No.”

“Why were you left behind?” It took me a moment to realise I was the one being addressed.

“I didn’t want to go,” I said.

“Why?”

“Well, I just didn’t.”

“I need a better reason than that. Do you even have a card?”

“None of us do,” interrupted Sandra.

“Shut up,” snapped Leader. “One more sound out of you and you’ll regret it.”

“Well boy?”

I followed Sandra’s lead. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Just never have. Never got the chance.”

“Did you ever want one?”

“Never really thought about it.”

“Liar. You must have thought about it when your parents left.”

“Not really. I didn’t want to go then.”

“So you want to go some other time?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe.”

“So which slave girls would you take?”

“What?”

“You do know,” he said heavily, “that the girls go as sex slaves. They’re not real people.”

“Well, some go as sponsors.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there was one in the group that went when my parents went.”

There was a brief pause. “So you’re telling me, you’ve actually seen a woman go as a sponsor?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I knew it was supposed to be true, but I’ve never heard of it actually happening.”

I was about to say something when I realised he wasn’t talking to me.

“I’ve heard of it,” said Doctor. “Or at least, I knew that’s what they say.”

“So who was the woman? Did she take a male slave?”

“She took a bloke with her, yes.”

“Who? What was her name?”

I paused, pretending to try and remember. I did remember Pauline Lipp, she had some nice knickers. “I can’t remember,” I said after a pause. “I only knew a few of the people there, and not very well.”

“Why not?”

“They were mostly friends of Mum or Dad.”

“Hm. So. Who would you take? If you went.”

“I’d want to go with Sandra.”

“You’d want to take this tart here?”

“Hey, she’s not a tart!”

“But you’s still want her as your slave?”

“No. I’d be just as happy as her concubine.”

“You’re in love with her,” came Whiny’s voice in a sneering tone.

I didn’t answer. It was true, but so what.

There was a pause and then I heard noises outside the room.

“What’s that?” Asked Coarse.

“This building’s supposed to be empty,” muttered Doctor. At least, I think it was him.

“You two, go investigate,” ordered Leader. Two sets of footsteps left. Then, “Have you got a weapon on you?”

“Only my knife,” replied Coarse.

“Guard these two.”

At that moment there was a shout from elsewhere in the building, and a cry of alarm.

“What the fuck?” muttered Leader. I could hear softly running feet; I guessed it was Leader. He was back moments later. “Shit, there’s dozens of ‘em.”

“Who?” asked Coarse.”

“The bleedin’ fuzz.”

“Are they looking for us?”

“Don’t see how, but we gotta get outta here.”

“What about the kids?”

“Gag ‘em and leave em.”

Sandra chose that moment to let out an ear-piercing scream.

I practically crapped myself because I wasn’t expecting it. The two men were equally startled. “Fuck,” yelled Coarse. “What’s...”

“Jeez,” cried Leader. “Shut her the fuck up.”

I heard rapid movement and decided I had to get in on the act too.

“HEEEEEEEEELLP!” I yelled. “WE’RE IN...” something covered my mouth and I realised Sandra’s scream had also been stopped. I felt something quickly stuffed into my mouth, then heard feet running. It took me a couple of minutes, but I managed to spit it out, and resumed my yelling.

Only moments later I heard another set of feet. More than one. Lot’s actually, and voices.

“Up here.”

“In here.”

“Behind there some where.”

Then another voice, more ‘official’ than the rest. “This is the police. Who is that?”

“I’m Toby Simpson,” I called. “Sandra Walmsley’s here too, but I think she’s been gagged. We’re blind folded and tied up.”

“Anyone else there?”

“Not that I can hear.”

“All right, bear with us a sec.”

I heard another spitting sound next to me, where I think Sandra was, then she too called out. “I’m okay. I’ve spat my gag out.”

“Darling?” came a voice.

“MUM?”

Then I heard another voice, much closer. “They’re here.” Moments later I felt my blindfold being removed. I turned my head towards Sandra to see that she too was trussed up much as I was. It was a young policeman, didn’t look more than eighteen or nineteen himself, who had found us first. The room, what I could see of it, was very dark, the only light was torches. Sandra and I were lying on wooden pallets and surrounded by chests and boxes of all sorts. The young constable carefully got out a knife, and well away from the knots, cut the cord tying my hands down and together, then did the same for Sandra. I reached over and took her hand just as three more people appeared. Two were policemen; the third was a woman.

“Darling,” she called and ran towards Sandra. One of the policemen caught her before she could reach us.

“Please ma’am. We need to process them to try and find any evidence. Don’t touch them just yet.”

After that it became a whirlwind. Sandra and I were told not to talk, and we were fairly quickly whisked off to ambulances and taken to hospital where a doctor diagnosed mw with a case of mild concussion from a severe blow to the head. Because of that, I was formally admitted for the night. It was now after two o’clock in the morning, but before I could relax, I needed to know how Sandra was. I continually asked after Sandra, only to be told each time not to worry.

After the fourth or fifth repetition of this, I snapped back. “But just telling me not to worry is what’s making me worry!” The nurse looked at me reproachfully. “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Just calm down and I’ll make enquiries.”

“All right, thank you.”

“Now please relax Mr Simpson.”

She came back about an hour later. I was still awake, and worrying. “Miss Walmsley is absolutely fine,” I was told. “She’s on the paed’s ward.”

“But she’s not hurt?”

“No. Now please Mr Simpson, try and get some rest.”

It turned out I was on the Surgical Assessment Unit, SAU, because I’d had quite a serious bang on the head, and they needed to monitor me. It meant that every two hours I had my blood pressure taken and my eyes and vision checked. It was frustrating in one sense, but I couldn’t get to sleep anyway because the ward was permanently active, with admissions and discharges going on throughout the night.

About ten the following morning, just after I’d had a visit from the doctor and my blood pressure taken yet again, I was moved into a side room.

A few minutes later Sandra was wheeled in, in a hospital wheelchair. With her was a couple who she introduced as her parents. We weren’t allowed to talk for long as the police had told the hospital staff that we were not allowed to talk without someone else being there. Apparently Sandra had driven her parents mad with her concerns for me, but they hadn’t been able to find out even as much as I had found out.

They left after about ten minutes; Sandra had already been officially discharged. It’s odd. In an NHS hospital, all patients, until they’ve actually left the building, are required to be in wheelchairs if they are no longer on the ward. And often even if they are. I’m sure it must be some stupid Health and Safety rule. Either that or over litigious lawyers trying to screw every penny out of the NHS that they can. Just seeing Sandra had reduced my tensions and worries, and, knowing she at least was on her way home, I think I finally relaxed. I was told later that having seen me, Sandra too had finally calmed down.

Shortly after that a couple of plain-clothes policemen came in to see me. They asked me a few questions, then left. Not long after they had gone, a nurse came in. She was in a slightly different colour uniform, which I later found out meant that she was a Nursing Assistant rather than a nurse.

“Toby? You’re ready to be discharged, but after your head injuries you can’t be discharged on your own. We can’t seem to contact your parents, the numbers we have for them are coming back unknown. Do you know where they are? Or what their numbers are?”

“Oh. Er.” I had a frantic panic. “Um. My mum’s in Bradford, visiting friends.”

“Your father?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen him in months.”

“Do you mean to say you’re on your own at the moment?”

“For a couple of days, yes. I’ve got more than enough food and stuff in the house, and I know not to drink any alcohol, and,”

She interrupted me. “How old are you?”

“Almost eighteen,” I told her.

“Oh no. We’ve got you down as eighteen. You shouldn’t have been on this ward. You’re a child. Legally.” She sighed. “You’ll have to stay in the side ward until we can sort something out.”

She left and another woman came in almost immediately. “Can I have a number for your mother please?”

I picked up my phone. “Shall I ring her?”

“Please.”

I began to go through my phone. I know I had Mrs Clarke’s number in here, what I couldn’t remember was whether it was a mobile number or a landline. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw the number started with 07. I quickly edited the entry so that it read ‘Mums mobile’ instead of Mrs Clarke, and then rang it.

Mrs Clarke answered a few moments later.

“Hello?” she answered cautiously.

“Hi Mum it’s Toby I’m in hospital there was an accident and the nurse needs to talk to you,” I quickly rushed out, hoping that she would catch on. I wasn’t going to tell her that I had been kidnapped, not over the phone anyway. I didn’t know if the nurse knew, but if she did I hoped she would realise what I had said.

“Er what?” came the confused response. “Toby?”

I quickly passed the phone to the nurse.

“Hello? Mrs Simpson?”

There was a short pause before I heard Mrs Clarke say slowly, “Who is this please?”

“Hello Mrs Simpson, my name is Sophie Hutchens. I’m the ward clerk for the SAU at the hospital. Your son was involved in a minor accident last night and ended up in hospital with a bang on the head. Unfortunately,” I tuned out at this point, wondering what Mrs Clarke was doing, and whether she had caught on to what I had done. The clerk left the room still talking on the phone, coming back a few minutes later with my phone.

It was half an hour before I heard what was happening. The Nursing Assistant came back in. “Right Toby. Unfortunately you’re going to have to stay with us for another night. Legally you are still a child, but the paeds ward only has one bed free. In any case, putting you there with children as young as four and five is just silly, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in this room until your mother can collect you.”

I nodded. “I’ve got no wash stuff or anything.”

“I’ll get you a towel, some soap and a bowl of warm water. It’s the best we can do for now.”

“Thank you,” I said with real gratitude. “That would be ace.”

She smiled. “I’m afraid there’s not much to read, and there’s no TV in the side rooms, but I’ll see if I can find you a book or two. Might not be very exciting I’m afraid. Is that okay?”

“Yes please,” I said fervently. I was bored.

“Give me a little while and I’ll see what I can sort out.”

About twenty minutes later she came back with the towel and warm water. “You okay with this love?” she asked me in a friendly voice.

“Thank you, it’ll be lovely.”

She waddled out again. She was a middle aged woman, about the same age and height as my own mother, but probably three times the weight. When I’d put on the hospital gown I’d sneaked the knickers I was wearing off and hid them in my trouser pockets. This was the first chance I’d had since then to be on my own, so I quickly slipped them back on again. It felt more comfortable to be wearing underwear, even lacy knickers, than to be wearing the horrible, open backed, hospital gowns. After just a moments thought, I got completely dressed.

I sat down in the chair and waited. It felt like hours before the NA came back to retrieve the bowl and towel. She saw that I’d dressed, but said nothing, so I said nothing.

“Would you like a drink love? Tea? Or squash?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely,” I answered. “Thank you.”

She smiled and left with the wash stuff. Then it was the ward clerk who came in. She had a newspaper, three gossip magazines and a Mills and Boon romance novel. “It’s all I can find for the moment,” she said apologetically.

Shortly after the tea had arrived, and I’d flicked my way through one of the magazines, my phone rang. I looked at it. “Mum’s mobile” Mrs Clarke.

“Hi,” I said. “Sorry about that earlier, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No Toby, that’s absolutely fine. You did exactly the right thing. Okay, you’re obviously on your own at the moment, yes?”

“Yeah. I’ve been put in a side room because I’m under eighteen and should really be on a paediatric ward. The nurse said that’s silly ‘cos of how old I am, so they’ve left me here for the moment.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. If someone comes in, just say the word ‘Mum’ and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now. Tell me what happened.”

I told her, carefully editing out the bit about Sandra and me on the bed. I told her everything I could remember, right up to when we had been rescued, even briefly mentioning that Sandra had been examined by someone who claimed to be a doctor, checking to see whether she was still a virgin. Throughout the entire thing, Mrs Clarke said nothing, not even to ask questions.

There was silence when I had finished.

“So Miss Walmsley knows you are alone?”

“Yes.”

She quizzed me on a couple of points, but otherwise didn’t say much. After a pause, she sighed. “You, me and Miss Walmsley are going to have to have a chat as soon as practically possible. In the mean time I think it might be best if you do move in with me”

“Yes Miss,” I muttered.

She chuckled. “I really don’t understand you. I know you want me. I know you have a crush on me. Yet you don’t want to come and live with me.”

I thought for a moment. “It’s down to what you said. About the wrong relationship. About how it mustn’t change yet.”

“Mmm. All right. I’ll think about it some more and we’ll have a talk when I get you home.”

“Yes Miss.”

“I’ll be leaving Yorkshire first thing in the morning. I’m sorry but I can’t leave now. I’ll come straight to the hospital. What ward are you on?”

“SAU.”

“Okay. I’ll find it. I’ll see you tomorrow as soon as I can.”

“Yes Miss, thank you. And sorry.”

She gave a little chuckle and hung up.

The police came to see me a bit later, and this time they went through my statement in much finer detail. They questioned me for well over an hour, before grudgingly leaving when a nurse came in to find out what was going on. She forcefully shooed them out when she realised just how long they had been there.

“You’re not supposed to be having any stress at the moment,” she told me a little crossly. Though I don’t think she was actually cross with me.

“It’s okay nurse, they weren’t stressing me.”

“So you might think,” she told me a little severely, then gave me a smile. “I can’t really imagine you would like that,” she nodded at the book. “I know where there are a few hidden away. Shall I see if I can find you something better?”

“Yes please.”

She frowned. “Did you get any lunch?”

“No.”

Her mouth closed and this time she looked really annoyed. She nodded and left. She was back two minutes later with a pack of sandwiches. “Sorry, this is all that’s left. This okay?”

It was sausage and tomato sauce. I nodded. “Fine.” I didn’t particularly like tomato sauce, but I didn’t dislike it either. It would do. She came back with a murder mystery book about five minutes later. “Not the most exciting,” she said with a soft laugh, “but it’ll be more interesting than a romance.”

“Thank you.”

I was given a hot meal about two hours or so later, went to bed in knickers and tee-shirt, and when I finally managed to get to sleep I slept, really slept, until I was woken up about six am.

“‘ello love,” said the night nurse. The nurses on this ward worked a twelve and a half hour shift with the half hour for handover. Seven until seven thirty each day and worked three shifts a week. Most nurses worked days only or nights only, but one or two did both. We had sat and chatted for a little while the previous evening when she had brought me a late night cup of tea. She had noticed I was still awake and had come in to check I was okay. I had slept soundly after that and half wondered whether she had given me a sleeping pill. I didn’t ask though.

“Hello,” I said.

“Sleep well?”

“Very well in the end.”

She nodded. “I think it’s just ‘cos you were so tired from not sleeping the previous night.”

I nodded. “Could be. You off shortly?”

She looked at her watch. “Hour and a bit.”

“Good. Thank you. And tell everyone else as well.”

She smiled. “I will love. You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah. Not sure what time though. Mum’s driving down from Yorkshire.”

“Oh dear. Well it’ll be a long and boring drive down the M1, hope she takes suitable breaks.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s not daft. Can’t be, she’s an A-level maths teacher.”

The nurse laughed gently. “I’ll come and say goodbye before I leave.”

Mrs Clarke turned up almost dot on eleven o’clock. It had taken her just four hours, including a brief stop half way. While we were in the hospital, she treated me at all times as if I was a difficult son. Somehow she had managed to look different. Older. More haggard almost.

Once we were in the car however, she smiled at me, took a face wipe from her bag, and began to wash off what turned out to be makeup. “I do amateur dramatics,” she told me, “so I can make myself up to look a little older than I really am. They know you have a twenty-three year old sister and if I’d turned up looking my normal self, they would not have believed I was your mother. I’m barely old enough to have an eighteen, seventeen-year-old son. I’m certainly not old enough to have had a twenty-three-year-old daughter.”

“No Miss.” I said, fascinated by her transformation.

She gave me one of her lovely smiles and took me straight home.

“Get a shower. You stink,” she told me with a wry smile.

“Sorry.”

I showered, and this time I had to wear my own underwear. Because of Sandra, I had removed all the knickers from my own room and there was no way Mrs Clarke would understand why I went into Mum’s or Jo’s room to get clothes to get dressed.

She had made us both mugs of tea, having checked that the milk was still okay, and was waiting for me when I finally got down, feeling so much better.

“All right, tell me what happened.”

I started to tell her all about the kidnap again, but she shook her head. “How did Sandra find out? What did you tell her?” The questions were quiet and relaxed. She didn’t sound at all cross or annoyed with me.

I frowned and tried to think back. Why had I told her? When had I told her.

Okay, I’d told her Friday afternoon in town. Why? I eventually remembered Sandra asking what I’d be doing for Christmas. I explained all this to Mrs Clarke.

“It’s funny,” she said. “I don’t know Sandra all that well. I’ve spoken to her on numerous occasions about Talulah, I was her form teacher in year nine, but still, she never really came to my attention. Yet the more I find out about her, the more I wonder about her. The more I realise she would be a wonderful asset and concubine to anyone. I even think that maybe, just maybe, she should actually be a sponsor. I’ve never actually seen her card, only what she’s told me. I wonder.”

She looked at me. “I really think you should come back with me. At least until the start of term. I’ll drop you about a mile away from the school and you can get a bus from there.”

I shook my head. “No Miss. Thank you an’ all, but it won’t work.”

She nodded. “Maybe not. But ... It’s New Years Eve tomorrow. Are you sure you want to be at home, alone, for that?”

Not really, I thought, but I nodded.

“Okay. When’s Sandra visiting again?”

“We’ve nothing arranged.”

“Um. See if you can arrange something. Monday. New years day would be best because we’re all back at school on Tuesday.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.”

“It’s a shorter than normal Christmas break this year, because of exactly when Christmas and the new year fall. Just over a week rather than the more normal two weeks.”

“I’ll text her now and ask.”

I got my phone and sent Sandra a message. “Home. U ok?”

She must have had her phone in her hand waiting, because the reply was very quick. “Yes. Need 2 talk can I ring?”

“YES” I sent back immediately.

“She’s gonna ring me,” I told Mrs Clarke.

“And she knows everything?”

“About you coming here occasionally to make sure I’m okay, but that’s all.”

She nodded. “She doesn’t know I’ve agreed to be one of your... ?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Sandra rang moments later.

“Hello babe,” I said.

For a few moments our conversation was purely personal and intimate, but then she got around to the reason she wanted to talk.”

“Dad thinks he might know who at least one of the men is. He’s fairly certain he saw him running away when they came into the warehouse.”

“Did he recognise him?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know his name.”

“Okay. But we never saw his face.”

“No,” she said slowly, “But Dad says he’s told the police of his suspicions. If they arrest him, we might be able to recognise his voice.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s a good idea. Um. Look. Is there any chance you could come here for a short while?”

There was a long silence.

“Please? It’s urgent. It’s about what’s happened and what’s going to happen.”

“Dad’s not going to let me come, I don’t think. Not without talking to your parents first and they aren’t there to talk to.”

I’d held the phone so that Mrs Clarke could also hear this part. “Tell her I’m here,” she mouthed. “And tell her I’ll take her home.”

I did so, and for a long moment Sandra was quiet.

“Tell her to put her father on to talk to me, but make sure she tells him I’m your mother,” whispered Mrs Clarke.

Once more I passed the message on.

“Okay,” came Sandra’s voice. It sounded a little odd.

It was all agreed, and twenty minutes later Mr Walmsley’s car pulled up. I went out to meet them, while Mrs Clarke stayed just inside the front door. Mr Walmsley might have met Mrs Clarke before, but it would have been a few years earlier, so by standing where she could be seen but not recognised, Mrs Clarke gave him the right impression. She waved to the car, then went back inside.

Sandra gave me a hug when she saw me, and took my hand to walk up the drive. As we got close to the front door Sandra faltered briefly, but then smiled at me and resumed her steady walk.

“Come on babe,” I said, “this is important.”

Sandra nodded and we entered. I shut the door carefully behind us.

“Come on in dear,” Mrs Clarke said softly from the living room door. “Thank you for coming. We do need to talk.”

Mrs Clarke had made another tea for me and herself and Sandra a mug of coffee. Just the routine of making a cup of tea can be quite relaxing. Sandra gave a diffident smile and sat on the settee next to me. I could see Mrs Clarke trying to hide a smile.

“Okay Sandra. Please believe me when I tell you that you are not in trouble because you found out about Toby.” I felt Sandra relax very slightly beside me. I think she had worried a little about that. “I’m far more concerned about what these men were after, what they were thinking, and how it affects us. If it does.”

“I think they might have been referring to Talulah at one point,” Sandra said slowly.

Mrs Clarke nodded. “Tell me.”

Sandra mentioned the ‘hanging around the bosses kid’ comment.

“And you think that’s Talulah?”

“She’s the only other girl that we both hang around with. There’s a couple of other girls that hang around with Tee and me, but when they are with us, Toby and the other boys aren’t.”

“Hmm. I see what you’re saying. Well if this is true, it means that either Mr Evans is suddenly suspicious of his daughter, or has realised that even if she takes him, he’s going to be in a very bad position as soon as she realises she’s the boss not him. I think he’s decided she’s not to go at all.”

“Do you think that was about scaring us away?” I asked.

“Maybe,” said Mrs Clarke slowly.

We talked around it for a few minutes but made no decision and came to no conclusion.

“How did your dad find us?” I suddenly asked Sandra.

She smiled. “He works for O2. He’s a senior technical guy in one of their information control centres.” I took that to mean computer room or similar. “When he found out something was wrong, he rang someone at work and got them to trace my phone. It’s one of the reasons all the family is on O2. We get great deals, but we also get that bit of added security.”

“Ah. That explains why they got there so quickly.” I paused for just a moment. “Do you think if I got an O2 contract he’d be prepared to monitor my phone?”

“I could ask him,” she temporised. “But I don’t know.”

“I think that’s a damned good idea,” Mrs Clarke said softly. “If I gave him ... hmm, what’s your father’s view of the Confederation.”

“The Confederacy? He’s a total supporter. He wants to be collected.”

“Does he now. And does he have any idea who he wants to take?”

“He sort of wants to take Mum, but she doesn’t really want to go with him. I think my parents are on the edge of a breakup.”

“Oh no. Your mother has a card as well?”

“Yeah. She’s got a four point oh score.”

“I need another sponsor,” Mrs Clarke murmured. “Do you think if I approached him he would be willing?”

“Maybe, yeah. I’d have to ask.”

“No. Let me do it.”

“Miss?” asked Sandra slowly. “Are you going?”

“If I can, yes. I would certainly like to go. I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Who would you be taking?”

“Now that is the question,” Mrs Clarke said slowly.

“You’re not a sponsor are you?” Sandra suddenly said.

“You cannot tell anyone. No one must know. Especially not at school.”

“All right. I understand. You could go with my father I suppose.”

Mrs Clarke laughed. “No dear. I already have a prospective sponsor.”

I twitched. Sandra felt it but and I think she took it as meaning this was news to me.

“Does he know?”

“Yes. He asked me. Someone else also asked me on his behalf. It took me a while to make up my mind, but yes, I’ve agreed to go with him should the circumstances arise.

“Are we allowed to know who it is?”

Mrs Clarke gave a big sigh. “I really don’t know. Not yet.”

“So we do know him?”

Mrs Clarke just looked at Sandra, frowning in deep thought, while Sandra just stared back at her with an open and hopeful expression on her face. Eventually she sighed. “Yes dear. I think you should know. But before I tell you, you must, both of you, absolutely promise not to let anyone else know. Not even a hint. It could hurt a lot of people, some very badly.”

“Bondy?” whispered Sandra. “You’re going with Bondy?”

“No dear. But he’s one who will genuinely be really very hurt if he finds out just yet.”

“So who?”

There was a long and pregnant pause. “I’m going with you.”

“Me?” Sandra was startled. “But I’m not a sponsor. I’m going ... with... ,” she turned and looked at me, her mouth open in shock. “You. She’s going with you?”

Mrs Clarke moved over to sit next to Sandra. “We are both going with the man you are in love with. The man who’s in love with you. He’s not in love with me.”

“But he has a crush on you,” said Sandra, clearly upset.

“Yes lovely girl, he does. But that’s just a crush. It’s you he’s in love with. You can see it in every fibre of his being.”

“But...”

Mrs Clarke took Sandra’s hand and gently led her out of the room. “Stay here,” she told me sternly.

I listened carefully, and worked out that they had gone into Joanne’s room. It was about as far from the living room as it was possible to get. I thought about what Mrs Clarke had said. That I just had a crush on her. Sure I lusted after her, but was that all a crush was? I was sure it wa more that ‘just’ a crush. I know I had real feelings for her. Was that love? I wasn’t sure.

I timed them. They took twenty-two minutes, and when they did finally return, Sandra had a gentle smile on her face and she looked radiantly happy. Mrs Clarke just gave me a strange look that I couldn’t interpret.

“Now,” she said, “We have to sort out how we rescue Talulah and Amber. When and where. We also need to sort out, to a limited extent, concubines for some of the sponsors. Misters Blish and Higgis in particular.”

“Shouldn’t we really be doing this with them?” I asked.

“Yes. But unfortunately, we also have to get a preparatory set of concubines. There’s not much point in only supplying one or two. We have to pick four or five for them to chose from. For various reasons, I think that Mr Blish should take Amber. I think she’s quiet enough and sufficiently undemanding for Mr Blish. He would cope better with her than Mr Higgis would. I don’t know who to suggest for Mr Higgis at the moment. As I understand it, Mr Bond has three of his four,”

“Yes but that includes his sister,” I interrupted.

“I know. For now at least I need to leave them together. None of the other sponsors currently in the group is currently suitable.” She turned to Sandra. “Do you know what your father’s score is?”

“I think it’s a six point six or six point seven. Not sure for certain.”

“Does he have his two?”

“No. He wants my mum, but she doesn’t want to go with him.”

“Does she want to go at all?”

“I think so?”

“You’ve got a brother in year ten haven’t you?”

“Yeah. He’s not got a card. I don’t know whether he’s interested.”

“Okay. Apart from your mother, who else did your father want? Do you know?”

She took a deep breath. “He said he’d take me if I couldn’t find anyone else, but then last night he told me that I should go with Toby.”

“So choosing you was only for your safety, not for any darker reason?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, good. All right. I’ll contact him discreetly. If he’s interested, we have our ten sponsors. Now we just need to think of a way to persuade Amber to get a card.”

“I think we should all start meeting somewhere,” I said. “It’s getting hard to arrange things if we can’t talk to more than just one or two people at a time. Not here though,” I added as I remembered some of what I’d heard the other night.

“No. Not here. Not at anyone’s home, I don’t think. Not yet anyway. There’s a parents’ evening coming up at the start of February. I’ll see if I can sort something for then.”

“There’s another big issue as well,” I pointed out. “Talulah. She needs to take a male, but I can’t see who she could possibly take. I’m not sure she would be happy with a stranger, and all the blokes she knows well are sponsors. The only male concubine I know would absolutely not be right for Tee.”

“I’ve sort of had an idea about that. It’s possible, maybe, that for now she either takes no one, or takes two girls.”

“But how,” I started.

“That is a bridge we’ll have to cross afterwards. There’s also four male teachers, all of whom are actually sponsors, but for Talulah any one of them would go as her concubine. I have two in particular in mind, but if she prefers there’s two more to fall back on. He would get her through her initial ordeal, then help her find someone more suitable. That’s another option. Amber first though.”

We spent nearly an hour talking about Amber and Talulah; and about their father. By the end we had a sort of plan for if Amber wouldn’t get a CAP card, but it very much depended on Talulah and her acting abilities. She didn’t need to do much acting, just be herself. Her real, vulnerable, hurt inside self.

We wound up the meeting. For a long moment we stood by the door, Sandra and I just looking at each other.

“Go on,” whispered Mrs Clarke to Sandra. “You know you want to, and you know it’s never going to be an issue for me.”

Sandra took hold of my hands and pulled me to her. We kissed hard and furious for a few minutes. It was amazing.

“Don’t be so rough dear heart,” Mrs Clarke said softly. “Here.”

All of a sudden I was kissing Mrs Clarke as I’d never kissed her before. It was soft and it was tender and it was wonderful. The erection I had started to get with Sandra got even harder. I could tell she could feel it as she pressed her belly tight against mine, grinding herself ever so slightly against me.

I must have looked as shell shocked as I felt when Mrs Clarke let me go, because both of them giggled at my expression.

“Now you,” whispered Mrs Clarke.

Once again Sandra was in my arms. It was gentler than last time, but she was still a lot more aggressive than Mrs Clarke. I didn’t care. These were the two women I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I genuinely didn’t care that I was supposed to have two more. These were the two important ones. The only important ones.

“I want to make love to you,” whispered Sandra into my ear as we hugged.

“To my total surprise, so do I,” said Mrs Clarke softly. She looked at me. “But you know why it can’t be.”

I nodded.

They left, Mrs Clarke giving Sandra a lift home. It was now almost six in the evening and I was hungry. More importantly though, I was horny. I locked all the doors and closed all the windows and curtains. Then I went upstairs. I went through all the knickers I had yet to wear, and found a pair that looked right. Two minutes later they were in the bin and I had found another pair.

I went and lay on my bed and slowly jacked off. It wasn’t the most amazing orgasm I’d ever had. Sandra had given me that a few hours before we had been kidnapped. But it was good. The memory of the two women kissing me had been more than enough to get me off. After a light tea I went back to bed and once more jacked off to the memory of the two women pressed tightly against me as we kissed. I now knew for absolute certainty my feelings for Mrs Clarke were far more than just a crush. I wasn’t certain of her feelings for me, though she had hinted that she had been horny.

A little after midday on the 31st I got a text from Mrs Clarke. “Just spokn 2 mr walmsley. Hes in. Hell contavt you soon. Go”

I smiled. So even a teacher wasn’t immune to poor spelling and punctuation when it came to text messages. I wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘Go’. I waited. I was sure I’d find out soon enough.

Mr Walmsley rang me about half an hour later. “Hello son,” he said when I answered. “Would you like to come around for New Years Eve?”

“Erm,” I started.

“My daughter would particularly like it if you did.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“I’ll come and collect you about seven this evening if that’s okay?”

“That’s wonderful, yes.”

“Pack an overnight bag. You can stay here tonight.”

“Thank you sir.”

There was a chuckle. “I’ll see you later.”

Sandra seemed suddenly coy around me when I arrived. I guessed it was the presence of her parents. The evening was simple but pleasant. There was just the four of them, including Nigel, Sandra’s younger brother, plus me. Nigel gave me a supercilious look when he was introduced, grunted and muttered something under his breath. Quite why he had taken a dislike to me I’ve no idea. Unless, I suddenly thought, he had had designs on Sandra himself. From the little interaction I saw between them though, I didn’t think that was the case. Maybe I’d ask Sandra when I got the chance.

We chatted while we half watched an old film on telly. There were a lot of little nibbles around which Mrs Walmsley kept trying to tempt me with. They were lovely and I did somewhat overindulge, but I think she thought I was undernourished or something: I did suddenly wonder whether they knew I now lived on my own. I finally remembered to give Sandra her Christmas present. She loved it and changed her simple silver studs to the new ones. Then she hugged me tight. “Thank you,” she squeaked.

“Get a room,” grunted Nigel.

“Nigel, don’t be so rude,” said his mother. “You’ll have a girlfriend yourself one day. Maybe you need to watch Toby and see how much a gentleman he is.” Nigel just pulled a face but said nothing and thereafter ignored us.

About ten Nigel announced that he was going to a party with friends. Apparently his parents already knew about it as his father just told him not to be too late. “Three in the morning is too late. Any time before that.”

Nigel just stomped out. That was when I found out that in fact it was Nigel that had inhibited Sandra. She dropped into my lap and kissed me. It was soft and gentle and wonderful Not like the slightly aggressive kissing she had given me yesterday.

“I practiced with Mrs Clarke,” she breathed into my ear.

My cock got instantly hard and Sandra gave a soft giggle as she felt it erect against her firm bottom.

Mr and Mrs Walmsley totally ignored us, but I felt a warm wave of approval coming from them both.

“Sorry,” I said when we finally surfaced.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear,” said Mrs Walmsley. The very next time I called her Mrs Walmsley, she wagged a finger at me. “Monica please dear. If you are taking my daughter to the stars to save her from these aliens, then we can’t stand on ceremony.”

“And please call me Brian,” her father followed up with.

“Mrs Clarke says you’ll be joining us?” I said to Brian.

He nodded. “I was pleased to be asked.”

“Do you know who you’ll want to take?”

“I’d like to take my wife, but...”

Monica interrupted him softly. “You know why that’ll never happen,” she said calmly.

He just looked sad.

“There’s a couple of girls we know who might be suitable.”

He nodded. “Mrs Clarke has named a couple. Amber I think one was. I can’t remember who the other was.”

“What about you?” I asked Monica.

“I don’t have anyone to take me. But I don’t mind too much. My darling daughter will be safe.”

I smiled. “There’s a couple of guys who might be suitable. I don’t know.” I turned to Sandra. “Blish or Higgis maybe? They might find it easier with an older woman.”

“Maybe,” Sandra said thoughtfully. She looked at her mother who was looking back expectantly. “Adam Blish and John Higgis are together. We don’t know if they are actually lovers, but they are together.”

“They’re gay?” asked Monica.

We both nodded.

“It wouldn’t work dears, I don’t think. I’d have no problems with it, but I think they would soon have a problem with me.”

“Oh?” Asked Sandra.

“I’m only guessing here, but I would think that gay men, if they had to have women, would probably want a woman with a very low sex drive. Who would never ask them for sex. Never want it from them, or at least, not care that they didn’t get it except maybe when they needed to get pregnant.” Her eyes flicked briefly to her daughter’s before returning to mine. “My sex drive is far too high for that.”

“Oh.” I said. “Sorry.”

Sandra just looked at her mother in surprise. “Sorry Mum,” she said after a short while. “I didn’t realise.”

“There was no reason you should love.”

“So why aren’t you going with Dad?” she asked softly.

Monica just shook her head.

“Do you think she could go with Bondy?” I asked Sandra softly. She was still sitting on my lap.

“Maybe.”

“There’s another guy, Steven Bond. He’s not gay. He needs to find four people and the last I heard he only has three.”

“He your age?”

I nodded.

“Maybe. I’m not really into younger boys, but I’ll certainly think about it.”

“How many are you taking?” Brian asked me.

“Four. I only have two so far, and a faintly possible third.”

Sandra looked at me. “Who’s the third?”

“Well, Mrs Clarke said I should think about a girl called Neeka. I can’t remember her surname. But I think Megan Keller might also be interested in me.”

“Megan ... Oh you mean Margot? No. You can’t have her. She and I, well, let’s just say it won’t be pretty. Neeka I don’t know. I’ll find out who she is next week and let you know.”

“Okay babe,” I said with a smile.

“You are mine,” she said softly. “Any girls you want have to come through me first.”

I smiled at her and with that we changed subject and started talking about what we were watching on TV.

A news program came on. A new political party, Britain Together was being formed from two others: the old United Kingdom Independence Party - though what they wanted independence from I wasn’t certain, and a fairly new one called The People First Party. Somebody called Prendergast, from the PFP, was being proposed to lead it.

“Oh hell,” muttered Brian. “He’s a potential walking time bomb. This could get a little ugly.”

“But he’s not in parliament yet,” I protested. “How can it be bad? And BT would be a minor opposition party, not government. Not even official opposition.”

“He won a by-election about two weeks ago, so yes, he is in parliament. The problem is, his party, the combined party, is now the third largest. While it’s true he’s not the official opposition, to all intents and purposes he is as both the two main parties are badly fractured for various reasons.”

“Oh.”

“Thing is, there’s a number of MP’s from both the main parties who sympathise with him. It could, potentially, get very interesting.” The news finished and a nationwide entertainment program came on that would keep going up to midnight and the new year. They had various studios and outside stages set up around the country, with bands, choirs, and other entertainments locally. There was a central studio, probably in London, from were they would pop out and around the country at various intervals.

We sat and watched, Sandra still curled contentedly on my lap. This was the girl I had been afraid of? It really is amazing how one’s perceptions of a person could change so drastically in quite a short period. About ten to midnight, Brian went and got some glasses and poured us all a drink. “Hope you drink port,” he said to me with a grin.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had it.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

“Happy New Year,” we all toasted as the chimes struck. Big Ben chimed out midnight, the cameras in Parliament Square zooming in on the famous clock face.

We went outside when we heard fireworks going off, and watched for a few minutes as a local football ground not far away set off fireworks. There had obviously been a party of some sort in the bar there. I just hoped the bar staff were well compensated for having to work on New Years Eve.

“Where’s the loo,” I whispered into Sandra’s ear. “I’m suddenly desperate.”

She smiled and showed me to a small downstairs toilet

I had just relieved myself when I spotted something that took my breath away. Just adjacent to the toilet was a laundry room. There was a radiator rack on the radiator in there, and on the rack was a pair of knickers. Pink and lacy. In so far as I could tell they were the very ones I had seen Sandra wearing when she fell over. I stood and looked at them for a long time. Walking softly over to them I lightly felt them. I was so disappointed. They looked gorgeous and, assuming I had the right ones, they looked amazing on; but the fabric was one that I generally found uncomfortable. I wanted them though. I picked them up and continued to stroke them while I looked quickly around.

I spotted a pair of very different black knickers. I quickly checked the sizes of the two pairs. Monica was easily two or three sizes larger than her daughter, I thought. The pink knickers were a size eight, the black knickers a size fourteen, which sort of confirmed that the pink ones were Sandra’s. I knew from the knickers I had acquired, that I needed at very least a size twelve, preferably a fourteen, if I wasn’t to cripple myself, so Sandra’s would probably be too small for me. I kissed them and then put them carefully back. The thing was, I knew I’d actually like the black ones, both for the fabric and the style. Monica’s I assumed. I left them too, but I thought about both pairs, on and off, for a little while after.

“We’re putting you into Sandra’s room,” they told me. “Sandra is going into her sister’s room. It’s ... better that way than putting you into Georgina’s room.”

I nodded. I remembered what Sandra had told me about her older sister, but I made no mention of it. I was excited though. I wouldn’t pry in her room. Well, not too much. I spotted a pair of her knickers, used, just under the edge of the bed, but Sandra spotted them also and quickly whipped them up. I pretended I hadn’t noticed.

I slept like a log, and in fact never did get the chance to pry in Sandra’s room. I was still asleep when she bounced in, fully dressed, to wake me up.

“Hello my handsome prince,” she giggled, dropping onto me.

I put my arms around her. “Hello my beautiful princess.”

“Time to get up.” She tried to drag the duvet off me, but all I was wearing was a pair of bottle green lacy boy-short knickers that had been Pauline Lipp’s once upon a time. Some of this style weren’t all that comfortable to walk around in, but I loved sleeping in them. I didn’t want Sandra to see what I was wearing so I hung on, grinning at her.

“Maybe I want to see,” she whispered, assuming I was in the nude.

“And one day I want to show you,” I whispered back. “But I don’t think your parents would be too enamoured of me if I tried to take advantage of their daughter in her own bedroom.”

She pouted, but there was a grin in her eyes too. “All right meany, but don’t be long, breakfast is already on the table.”

I was quickly up, changed and dressed; and made my way downstairs as soon as I could. I stayed with them until just after one, when Nigel finally returned from his party. At one point I went to the toilet and took a peek into the laundry room. To my complete disappointment, both pairs of knickers were gone. I had worked up the nereve to steal one or other, or maybe both, so I was actually very sad, but in a way also relieved, to see they were no longer there.

Monica, accompanied by Sandra, took me home.

“Thank you very much for a wonderful evening,” I said.

“It was an absolute pleasure to have you dear,” Monica replied with a smile. “We’ve known for a little while now that Sandra probably had a boyfriend, a real honest to goodness boyfriend who actually cared about her, but we didn’t want to spoil it for her by inviting you around too soon. I think, I hope, we got it about right.”

“I think so,” I said, looking at Sandra. Her own broad and happy smile told me, I think, that she agreed.

I got out of the car. Sandra got out with me, but Monica stayed in the car. “Mum’s giving me two minutes alone with you, but no more than that,” she whispered.

I smiled and took her into my arms.

“I want to go inside,” she whispered. “I want to suck your cock.”

I put my hands on the side of her face and looked into her eyes. She looked deadly serious. “And I want to lick your pussy,” I whispered equally softly. “But we don’t have the time.” I kissed her again, very gently, to which she responded in kind.

“Time darling,” came Monica’s calm voice all too soon.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” I said softly, reluctantly letting go. We had text sex that evening, and I came like a rocket.

It was another two weeks before anything changed. In the meantime, Mrs Clarke came around each Wednesday evening and Sunday morning to check I was okay and that I hadn’t trashed the house too badly. The only thing she suggested was that I get an outside brush and sweep up the leaves from the various paths, and from the lawns. Saturdays Sandra and I went into town. It was now generally open knowledge at school that we were dating, but apart from one sarky comment about a girl’s cast off, that Sandra herself didn’t hear, most people seemed to be either completely neutral, or congratulatory to both of us. I wore at least two pairs of knickers most days, and during that time threw another nine away. When I counted what was left, I discovered I still had one-hundred and forty-seven I hadn’t yet worn, plus ninety-nine that I had worn, and had kept. I’d lost count of the number I had thrown away. It must have been close to eighty.