Juliet is juststaring, wide eyed, not sure what to say and she simply comes over and plants akiss on my cheek and mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Juliet, that was lovely. I betyou’re all hungry? There’s some bread and butter over there if you want to fixyourselves some.”
James is still unfazed. “I’m not botheredabout fixing myself food, I want to get you both out of here! How long is heleaving you here for?”
“Overnight,” I respond. “Don’t worry, it’snot so bad and I’ll look after mother.”
“That’s not on,” hesays and with lightning speed he is around the back of my chair trying toloosen off the bindings. I’m panicked now but try to keep my voice low so asnot to alert him. “Get off, James, now I mean it! You’re only going to makethings worse for us.” I feel his hands loosening their grip and at the sametime I exhale a sigh of relief.
I address all three of them; “We bothreally appreciate you trying to help us but if you really want to help us thebest thing you can do is grab yourselves a quick bite to eat and get out ofhere as soon as possible. If he catches any of you in here, you might findyourselves in the same position as mother and I.”
Mother seconds this, “Yes just go, allthree of you, be gone now!”
James and Juliet seem to be pacified withthis, but I sense there’s something to come from Caroline.
“Are you in pain?” she asks, and I can’ttell whether this question is borne out of concern or a morbid fascination, youwere never too sure with Caroline. I assume the former.
“No, we’re OK, thanks, Caroline, we’re notin pain, just a little bit uncomfortable.” There is more to come.
“Did you know that you can lose fingersand toes if the blood supply is cut off for long enough?” This was worrying. Iam starting to think the things she’s seen in the croft are having a really badimpact on her. This needs nipped in the bud.
“I’m sure we’re not going to lose anyfingers and toes, Caroline, so don’t worry.” With that last sentence I hear asharp intake of breath from mother. I have to call time on this because it’sclearly distressing her even more. “Just be quick the three of you, please,that’s all I ask in case he comes back and you get into trouble or get us intofurther trouble.” It looked as though finally my words had penetrated as theyset about making a quick snack for themselves before reluctantly leaving us toit.
I had no idea what time it was as therewas no clock in the kitchen and being June there wouldn’t be a sunset untilafter 10 o’clock. I stare across at mother. She had what could only bedescribed as a weary acceptance scrawled across her face. I wasn’t old but Iwas old enough to realise that she was a broken woman. This was mental tormentwhat he was putting us through, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty. Mother wasbeing punished for something I’d done. I broke the silence; “I’m so sorry,mother, for all this, it’s all my fault. If it weren’t for that note, youwouldn’t have got into trouble.”
She beams across at me, “That’s OK, son,but what note? What are you talking about?” What are you talking about? What amI talking about?? What was she talking about?! How could she not remember aboutthe note?
“The note, mother,from my teacher. That’s why we’re both tied up!”
“Sorry, son, but I don’t have a clue whatyou’re talking about.”
This place is literally driving me insane!Why couldn’t she remember what happened earlier this evening that led to usbeing tied up to the chairs? I’m too young to understand the workings of themind and ponder whether she’s becoming forgetful (although I think she’s tooyoung for this) or is she suffering somehow with trauma over what he’s put herthrough over the years? Perhaps she is adapting and evolving to hercircumstances and has found a way to blot it all out? I decided there is nopoint in forcing the issue as I don’t want her to have to relive the experienceall over again. Anyway, I have a more burning issue to attend to. What I fearedwould happen has come to fruition – I have a full bladder and I can’t hold outmuch longer.
I distract myself by looking out of thewindow and notice that sundown is approaching. The sky is vibrant, one of thosesummer skies where you get flashes of red, pink, and blue etched across thehorizon and you know it’s going to be a hot day the following day. Thisprovides only a momentary distraction as my bladder snaps my mind back to thefore. Instead of just a niggling sensation, it has developed into something farmore insistent. It feels as though every square inch of my groin and stomachare fit to burst. I cannot go in front of mother, I just can’t. I wonder if sheis enduring a similar torture and I glace over, surprised to see her headlolling gently back and forth resembling a nodding dog as the first signs ofsleep begin to envelop her.
I can hold it no longer and just let go. Ifeel the hot liquid gushing down my leg, the tell-tail stain spreading its wayacross my jeans. I watch in fascination as I see the liquid pouring forth outof my jeans, some choosing to saturate my socks and stay put in my trainers;the rest pouring out across the wooden floor, spreading out in all directions.I’m sure this is what father was hoping for and only gives him ammunition tofurther berate me. I take a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. The pungentsmell of ammonia hits my nostrils from the puddle at my feet and makes me gag.
One thing I can be thankful for is thebindings around my wrists and ankles have loosened off somewhat. I can onlyassume mother’s bindings weren’t as tight as mine
