CHAPTER 77: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 17
“… I just want to know that you’re okay. Not living like this.”
“It’s my life! My choices! Now, Go to Hell! The pair of you. I have to go out now.”
I am lying. I have nowhere to go. I want nothing more than to sleep, but I need to escape from this situation.
“Will you please leave, both of you. I am going out now.”
They step out of the room. I pull the door shut on the latch and walk away. As I descend the urine-stinking staircase, I still hear them, talking quietly.
Outside, I have no clear idea of where I am going. I have left my bag, purse and money in the flat. Even to buy a cup of coffee, I need to go back inside. But Michael and James are still in there, and I do not want to return until they leave.
I stand out on the dark street, wishing I had at least thought to bring a jacket.
“Hello, darlin’,” says a voice. “What do you charge? I’ve got thirty on me…”
The man is tall, and I can’t make out his features. “Sorry,” I mutter, turning away. “You’ve made a mistake.”
But as I turn, there is another. “Well, I can add another fifty to the pot, love. C’mon. Two of us together eh? And you’ll not need to work again tonight.”
“No, sorry,” I reply. “But I’m not who you’re looking for.”
He grabs me by the arm, pulling me towards him, his friend moving closer, crowding me in. “Well, maybe we’ll just have it for free then.” Close up, his breath is sour. His clothes reek of unwashed body and poverty.
The two of them press me back against the wall. I am struggling, fighting back. “Get off me!” One of them I might have had a chance with, but two of them...
“Clap your hand over her mouth. Where shall we take her?”
“The alley round the back. No-one goes down there…”
I am trying to scream, but a hand is firmly over my mouth. Dragging me all the way, my arms pinned, I can do nothing as the two haul me into the dark alley entrance.
“I’ll hold her. You go first...”
And now, Michael and James are here. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing with her?”
As the men square up to fight, I am flung to one side, slung sideways. Losing my balance and my footing, I try to roll to break my fall, but my head smashes into the brick wall and...
“How do you feel?”
The question seems to come from nowhere, a voice in my head, as I stare at a blank white space.
How do I feel?
I have a crashing headache.
Trembling, I touch my head, to find it bandaged. I try to sit up, but my stomach rebels, retching, threatening to bring up its contents.
“No. Lie still. You have concussion. The doctor will be back soon to take another look at you.”
Then my vision clears. The blank whiteness is a ceiling. Moving my head carefully, in case it falls off my neck, I look across the room. My Master... James… is sitting there, leaning forward on to his knees. Michael is standing behind him.
Rolling my eyes around the room, it suddenly makes sense. I am back in the beach house, in the four-poster bed the three of us shared.
“You kidnapped me?” I would like to be incredulous, but it would take too much energy. My voice is weak. I can barely speak above a whisper.
“Don’t go into a panic,” says Michael, holding up a hand and pointing. “James is sleeping next door that way, and I’m sleeping next door that way. This is your room.”
Again, I try to sit up. The roiling in my stomach seems a little less.
“Want a drink?” says James. “Need to pee?”
My bladder is sending urgent signals. “I need the bathroom, yes.” I try to stand, but my knees buckle. Michael sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me to the bathroom.
“I can manage,” I snap, as he deposits me.
“No, you can’t,” he says. “Let go of your damn pride. With some of the things you and I have done together, d’you think that answering nature is something that should embarrass you?” But he pointedly turns his back.
“You done?” he asks after a minute.
“Yes.”
He picks me up again and puts me back in the bed.
“Doctor’s here,” says James.
Half an hour later, the doctor has looked me over and pronounced no serious damage, no fractures, or other lasting damage.
So, why do I feel so lousy?
“Is there someone to keep an eye on her for a few days?” asks the doctor.
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.” She hands Michael a card. “Call this number if there are any problems in the meantime.”
Michael leaves to show her out, James sitting there, looking at me, resting his chin on steepled fingers.
“You were right,” he says. “I’ve surrendered my right to have any say in what you do now. But you can’t go anywhere until you are back to full health. After that...”
“After that?”
“... after that, I ask that you remain here until we can sort out your situation. If you insist on leaving, it’s your choice, but neither of us wants to see you return to that place, that area, that job... You’re better than that, and you deserve more.”
“My stuff…”
“All here. Michael and I cleared your room...”
“You broke in?”
“You had the key in your pocket. It’s about all you did have on you. Why did you go running out like that? In a place like that…”
I stare at the ceiling, not meeting his eye, but reply. “You know why.”
Michael returns. His eyes I notice, are shadowed, red. James looks drawn. I think he has lost weight.
He says, “Charlotte, or Jenny if you prefer. Please understand, this is a no-strings offer. Please don’t try to leave. You might have been able to walk thirty miles before, but you certainly can’t now. We just want you safe. We will ask nothing of you, make no assumptions about our relationship.”
Michael breaks in. “Please, Jenny, say yes.” His voice is shuddering. “Oh, God... When you went down like that, I thought you were dead.”
“Charlotte,” I say.
“What?” asks James. Michael looks up.
“I’m Charlotte. Jenny became the fantasy. Charlotte is the real person.”