109
Sunday 18 January
He ripped away the duct tape covering Jessie’s mouth, and as he pulled off the last layer, tearing it from her skin and lips and hair, she croaked in pain, then moments later, almost oblivious of the stinging pain, began gulping down air. Momentary relief that she was able to breathe normally flooded through her.
‘Nice to meet you properly,’ he said through the mouth slit in his hood, in his small voice.
He put the interior light in the van on and for the first time she could get a proper look at him. Sitting on a seat, staring down at her, he didn’t appear particularly big or strong, even dressed in his macho head-to-toe motorcycling leathers. But the hood chilled her. She saw his helmet lying on the floor, with heavy gauntlets folded into it. On his hands now he just wore surgical gloves.
‘Thirsty?’
He had moved her on the floor, propped her back against the wall, but leaving her trussed up. She looked in desperation at the open water bottle he held out to her and nodded. ‘Please.’ It was hard to speak, her mouth was so dry and gummed up. Then her eyes darted to the serrated hunting knife he held in the other gloved hand. Not that he needed it; her arms were pinioned behind her back and her legs were still bound at the knees and the ankles.
She could kick him, she knew. She could bend her knees and kick out and really hurt him. But what use would that be? Just enrage him further, and make him do something worse to her than he already had in mind?
It was vital to keep her powder dry. She knew from her nursing days where the vulnerable points were; and from her kick-boxing training, where to land a venomous kick, one that, if she struck the right place, would disable him for a few seconds at the very least, and if she was lucky, longer.
If she got the chance.
She would have only one chance. It was absolutely crucial she didn’t blow it.
She swigged down the water greedily, gulping, gulping, until she couldn’t swallow fast enough and it overflowed down her chin. She choked, coughing hard. When she had finished coughing, she drank some more, still parched, then thanked him, smiling, looking straight at him pleasantly, as if he was her new best friend, knowing that somehow she had to establish a rapport with him.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she croaked. ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I know you will.’ He leaned forward and held up the knife in front of her face. ‘It’s sharp,’ he said. ‘Do you want to know how sharp?’ He pressed the flat of the cold steel blade against her cheek. ‘It’s so sharp, you could shave with it. You could shave off all your disgusting bodily hairs – especially your pubes, all soaked in urine. Do you know what else I could do with it?’
He kept the flat of the blade to her face as she replied, shaking in terror, almost in a whisper. ‘No.’
‘I could circumcise you.’
He let the words sink in.
She said nothing. Her brain was kicking off in every direction. Rapport. Must establish a rapport.
‘Why?’ she said, trying to sound calm, but it came out as a gasp. ‘I mean – why would you want to do that?’
‘Isn’t that what happens to all Jewish boys?’
She nodded, feeling the blade starting to bite into her skin, just beneath her right eye.
‘Tradition,’ she said.
‘But not girls?’
‘No. Some cultures, but not Jewish.’
‘Is that right?’
The blade was pressing so hard she daren’t move her head any more. ‘Yes.’ She only mouthed the word; the sound was trapped, by terror, in her throat.
‘Circumcising a woman stops her from getting sexual pleasure. A circumcised woman can’t have an orgasm, so after a short while she doesn’t bother to try. Which means she doesn’t bother being unfaithful to her husband, there’s no point. Did you know that?’
Again her reply would not leave her throat. ‘No,’ she mouthed.
‘I know how to do it,’ he said. ‘I’ve studied it. You wouldn’t like me to circumcise you, would you?’
‘No.’ This time it came out as a faint whisper. She was quaking, trying to breathe steadily, to calm herself down. To think straight. ‘You don’t need to do that to me,’ she said, her voice a fraction louder now. ‘I’ll be a good girl to you, I promise.’
‘Will you wash yourself for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everywhere?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you shave your pubes off for me?’
‘Yes.’
Still keeping the knife to her cheek he said, ‘I’ve got water in this van – warm running water. Soap. A sponge. A towel. A razor. I’m going to let you take all your clothes off so you can clean yourself up. Then we’re going to play with that shoe.’ He pointed at the floor with the water bottle. ‘Recognize it? Identical to the pair you bought on Tuesday in Marielle Shoes in Brighton. It’s a shame you kicked one out of the van or we could have played with a pair. But we’ll have fun with just one, won’t we?’
‘Yes,’ she said. Then, trying to sound bright, she added, ‘I like shoes. Do you?’
‘Oh, very much. I like the ones with high heels. Ones that women can use like a dildo.’
‘Like a dildo? You mean use on themselves?’
‘That’s what I mean.’
‘Is that what you’d like to do?’
‘I’ll tell you what you’re going to do when I’m ready,’ he snapped suddenly, anger flaring from nowhere. Then he pulled the knife away from her cheek and began to cut free the duct tape binding her knees together.
‘I’m going to give you one word of warning, Jessie,’ he said, his tone all friendly again. ‘I don’t want anything to spoil our fun, yeah? Our little session that we’re going to have, OK?’
She pursed her lips and nodded her agreement, giving him all she could manage of a smile.
Then he raised the knife blade so that it was right in front of her nose. ‘If you try anything, if you try to hurt me or escape, then what I’m going to do is tie you up again, but without any tracksuit bottoms or panties, yeah? Then I’m going to circumcise you. Just think about that when you’re on your honeymoon with Benedict. And every time your husband makes love to you, for the rest of your life. Just think what you’ll be missing. Do we understand each other?’
‘Yes,’ she mouthed.
But she was thinking.
He wasn’t big. He was a bully.
She had been bullied at school. Bullied for her hooked nose, bullied for being the rich kid whose parents collected her in flash cars. But she’d learned how to deal with them. Bullies expected to get their own way. They weren’t prepared for people to stand up to them. She once whacked her school’s biggest bully, Karen Waldergrave, on the knee with a hockey stick during a game. Hit her so hard she’d shattered the bone, and she had to have an artificial kneecap made. Of course, it was an accident. One of those unfortunate things that happen in sport – at least, that was how it seemed to the teachers. No one ever bullied her again.
The instant she had her chance, this man wasn’t going to bully her again either.
He cut free the tape securing her ankles. As she gratefully began moving her legs, to get the circulation back, he went to the sink and ran a tap. ‘Get it nice and warm for you!’ He turned back and looked hard at her. ‘I’m going to free your hands now, so you can wash and shave for me. Remember what I’ve told you?’
She nodded.
‘Say it out aloud.’
