Emma had planned to be
alone that day. There was so much to do in her husband's isolated, 17th
century, former rectory.
In the intervals of
gallivanting around London whilst John was away doing his oceonographical
research in some remote Pacific island, she had thrown herself into doing up
the pretty house and its delightful garden. The garden was so lovely and the
countryside so entrancing that had Emma had almost forgotten the dreadful scene
with the Baroness and her final threat to tell Ursula everything. London seemed
a long way away.
And anyway what could
they do to her here? She was a married woman, Mrs John Ffoulkes,
with a position in the county society.
She even had a part-time job in a local charity. No, they could not
touch her here. All she had to do was to resist any telephoned blandishments
from either of them to come up to London, and she would be quite safe.
So sucks to you
Baroness Stefan von Altman, she thought, and sucks to you Miss Ursula de Vere.
You can both go and jump into the lake! And, anyway, she now felt, how could
she have become emotionally attached to such an evil woman as Ursula?
Yes, Ursula might be
back again in London after some months abroad, exhibiting her pictures. She
might have bought a new house to house her studio and her pictures – and,
doubtless, her girls. And, probably, she had hoped to lure Emma back, to become
one of her girls again. But Emma kept telling herself, she was now immune to Ursula’s
wiles - even if her husband was still often abroad for long periods.
Yes, Emma laughed,
there was now no chance of her allowing herself to fall again into Ursula
clutches. She was free now, and was going to remain so.
Suddenly Emma heard the
front door bell ring. Damnation! Who on earth was disturbing her carefully
planned day alone? She looked out of the window and saw an unmarked white van,
parked on the gravel in front of the house. How strange, she thought.
Two burly looking men
in white paramedical uniforms were unloading a stretcher from the back of the
van under the supervision of a large black man who was incongruously dressed
like a butler in a black tie and coat, with black striped trousers. He was
wearing white gloves that contrasted sharply with his black skin.
They must be lost and have come to the wrong place, she
thought, as she innocently ran down the stairs to open the door and re-direct
them. .
'Mrs Emma Ffoulkes?' asked the large black man of about 30, in a deep
tone of voice. He spoke in rather broken English with a strange French or
African accent. His face had a sinister look about it and his bloodshot eyes
gleamed cruelly. Normally Emma rather liked black men, provided they were
friendly and respectful. But this one seemed rather frightening and menacing.
Behind him stood the
two men in white suits with the stretcher.
'Yes,' replied Emma in
some confusion, 'But what ... '
'Don't worry, we just
come to take you away for your treatment,' said the butler in his deep voice
and in a strange half French and half Caribbean accent. Then, with a sinister
smile, he pushed his way past her into the hall.
'Treatment!' cried
Emma. 'What treatment? I'm not due for any treatment ...You've come to the
wrong house. You ... '
The men with the
stretcher were already placing it on the floor of the hall and were laying out
some straps attached to its sides.
‘What are you are
doing?’ she cried. ‘There must be some mistake.’
‘No! No mistake,’ said
the black man. 'We sent by Miss de Vere
to collect you. She want you for her new enterprise.’
Miss de Vere! Ursula!
Without a word of warning Ursula had sent these awful people! To collect her like some absent pet dog . . . and just because she wanted her for
some new enterprise. No! She had broken with Ursula. She was free now,
free of Ursula’s control.
‘No!’ she cried. ‘I
don’t want to have anything more to do with her.’
‘That not your
decision,’ laughed the big black man. ‘If Miss Ursula want
you, you come.’
‘I certainly will not!’ Emma
cried nervously backing up against the wall. ‘And you can’t make me come
either.’
‘Oh, yes we can, ‘ came a woman’s voice in a strong German accent.’
Emma turned and saw a
middle aged, rather grim faced woman, wearing a short white doctor's coat and carrying
what looked like a doctor's medical bag. She must have just got out of the van
and had followed the others into the house.
Horrified, she
recognised Doctor Anna.
Doctor Anna! She was
the cruel lady doctor whom Ursula, without a word to Emma, had previously got
to send a note to her husband certifying that she not fit to carry out her
conjugal duties. Ursula did not share her girls with any man, not even a girl’s
husband.
Emma shivered as she
also remembered hearing how during the Cold War, Doctor Anna had been the
dreaded Medical Officer of an Eastern European prison camp for women – young
women who were considered to be “Enemies of the State”, or who had tried to
escape to the West. There, it was rumoured, that she had conducted certain
medical experiments not only on caged animals, but also on similarly caged
young women. Later, in London, she had set up a discreet clinic to offer
treatments based on those experiments – treatments in which Emma remembered
Ursula saying that she was very interested for her own girls . . .
Emma gave a gasp of
fear as she now saw the big black man shut the door whilst the lady doctor
opened her case and took out a syringe.
'Yes,’ added the black
man, ‘Miss de Vere, she very angry at way you been behaving in London behind
her back. She say you have had enough freedom and to
quieten you down it now high time you joined her other girls – and got given
same Treatments as them.’
‘Treatments’ cried Emma.
‘What Treatments?’
‘Never you mind. You wait and see,’ laughed the big black man
mysteriously. ‘Doctor Anna give all new girls First
Treatment when they made to join Miss de Vere’s new enterprise.’
Emma gasped in horror.
Made to join Ursula’s new enterprise? That was the expression that the Baroness
had used in that dreadful last scene.
‘What new enterprise?’ she cried.
‘Ah, you soon see,’
replied the big black man, adding mysteriously, ‘after I give you good
Introductory Thrashing with my dressage whip.’
‘Oh no,’ cried Emma. To
be thrashed by this huge brute of a man. How awful!
‘Oh yes, that make sure
you frightened of whip and so become good little whore.’
‘Whore?’ cried Emma.
‘Yes, special whore for
Ladies. Miss de Vere, she say upper class English lady earn her plenty money
from her lady clients, pretending to come see her pictures.’
‘Oh, no,’ cried Emma. ‘I’m a respectable married woman –
with a position in society.’
‘And that why Miss de
Vere’s rich clients will pay extra to have you made to pleasure them – and pay
to have you sponsored for exciting and very special Second Treatment.’
‘What do you mean Second
Treatment?’ again cried Emma.
‘Never you mind,’ again
laughed the black man. ‘You just await Happy Little Event!’
To Await a Happy Little
Surprise? Emma’s mind was
racing. What could this awful black man mean? She turned to Doctor Anna
‘Please let me go! I’m
not rich but I’ll pay you … ’
‘Oh, no,’ laughed the
foreign sounding lady doctor. ‘You could never pay me what I earn from Miss de
Vere and her wealthy clients, especially when a really rich client pays to specially
sponsor a girl, who’s caught her fancy.’
Sponsored, thought
Emma. Surely that meant
earning money for someone else by doing something you didn't really want to do?
'What do you mean?'
Emma cried out. 'Sponsored? For what?
'Sponsored for one of my
special Second Treatments,’ replied the lady doctor.
‘What?’
‘Yes, Miss de Vere makes
plenty money from pretty mothers-to-be.’
'Pretty mothers-to-be?’ Emma cried nervously. ‘What do you mean?’
'Ah, you wait and see,'
replied the black man mysteriously.
Suddenly Emma saw that
the lady doctor was loading a syringe. My God! ‘What are you doing with that
syringe?’
'That’s to quieten you
down.’
'No!' Emma screamed in
desperation, again backing up against the wall. 'Oh, no! I'll scream and the
cleaning lady will hear ... The Police will come and arrest you all, and ...'
But the large black
man, dressed like a butler, just laughed. 'Oh no! We
know no one now in house except you ... We been
watching!’
The two white-coated
men had now finished preparing the stretcher.
‘Now, don’t be a silly
girl’ said the foreign lady doctor briskly picking up the syringe.
It was a threat that
had an immediate calming effect on Emma - as did the sight of the huge black
man and the strong looking men with the stretcher. What could she do?
‘Alright,’ she said,
‘all right. I’ll come quietly, but I warn you my husband …
'Miss de Vere, she
already contacted your husband in Pacific,' replied Sabhu
with a cruel laugh. ‘She tell him Doctor Anna here say
you need long rest. He said he only too happy to let Miss de Vere look after
you for few months whilst he's away.’
A few months, thought
Emma, oh my God! Anything could happen to her in that time.
'But the house, what
will happen... '
'Don't you worry,
little girl!' replied the German woman, now speaking as if she was reassuring a
little girl. 'Just relax, my child. Everything has been taken care of. Ursula
has hired a reliable house-keeper to look after the house whilst you are away.'
'But the mail, my
letters, the bills, the ... '
'Oh the house-keeper
will be forwarding them to Ursula to deal with.'
‘But my friends …’
'Don’t
worry the housekeeper will tell them that as your husband is away,
you’ve gone away on a long cruise.’
‘Oh! But
what about the garden? And my part-time office job?' cried Emma in
desperation.
'Don't worry, child.
Miss de Vere has taken care of everything. She's paying a nice jobbing gardener
to look after the garden whilst you are away and do any little jobs that the
housekeeper wants done. And as for your job, I have already spoken to them, as
your doctor, and said that you aren't well and will be away convalescing for
several months. They've even agreed to keep your job open for you until you
return.'
My God, thought Emma, Ursula
has thought of everything! She was just going to disappear - disappear into
Ursula’s strange new enterprise.
‘You now not have a care
in the world,’ laughed the big black man, ‘just like Miss de Vere’s other girls
... Now just go and lie down on the stretcher.
'But my clothes! I must pack.'
Perhaps, she thought desperately, this might give her the chance to
telephone for help.
'You
not need any clothes whilst kept caged’,’ said the big black man with a
horrible grin. ‘You just be kept caged
earning Miss de Vere plenty money.’
‘Kept caged!’ gasped Emma.
‘Yes, in cages of Miss
de Vere’s menagerie of pretty girls whilst you wait,’ went on the black man,
‘to earn big fee to be sponsored for Second Treatment.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Oh, yes!’ cut in the lady
doctor with a grim smile, ‘kept caged just like the animals and girls in my
prison camp. ‘But don’t you worry Mr Sabhu will take
complete care of you in your cage, just the prison guards looked after the
caged girls I was experimenting on in the camp.’
‘Experimenting on!’
again gasped Emma.
‘Then, yes. But now,’
she said again proudly, ‘my techniques have been proven.’
‘What do you mean,’
cried Emma anxiously.
But the lady doctor did
not answer. Instead she looked embarrassed as if she had already said more than
she had meant to do.
'Oh! But I’m not going
to be put into one of those awful chastity belts, am I?’ Emma asked anxiously.
‘No,’ laughed the black
man cruelly. ‘We got something else, quite different, in store for you. You wont need no chastity belt – not
after First Treatment.’
‘What do you mean?’
gasped Emma, ‘Tell me! Tell me!’
‘Oh, you soon see,’ came the mysterious reply. ‘And then you not able to be
naughty girl. You not then masturbate! You then just like
Miss de Vere’s other girls.’
‘Oh!’ cried Emma, alarmed.
Not masturbate! Oh, how awful to be spoken about such an intimate matter by an
uneducated black man.
The two big
white-coated men were now coming towards Emma, one on either side.
'Everything is going to
be alright.' again came the almost hypnotic voice of
the doctor. 'Now just lie down on the stretcher, like a good little girl.’
‘Oh no!’ cried Emma. ‘I
want to continue enjoying my freedom!’
‘Freedom! Oh, you wont
be enjoying that again for several months,’ laughed the doctor cruelly. ‘You’ll
be too busy being made to earn Miss de Vere a lot of money . . . Now lie down
on the stretcher, like a good little girl,' she said. ‘Or the men will put you
down on it - and you won't like that, will you?'
Nervously Emma eyed the
big butler and the two other men, standing on either side of her. Hastily she
lay down on the stretcher. Quickly the straps were fastened. Within seconds she
was quite helpless, strapped to the stretcher, with her legs strapped together
and her arms strapped to her sides.
The butler nodded to
the two men and they picked up the stretcher and carried it to the car. They
placed it on a rack. Emma shivered as she saw the doctor come over to her.
'Now no more talking,'
she said, again picking up her syringe.’
Emma caught her breath,
terrified at what was happening to her. She looked wonderingly at the
frightening big strong black man.
'Miss de Vere now uses
Mr Sabhu as her overseer in charge of her girls,'
explained the doctor, 'He was a animal trainer in a
circus and so is used to handling difficult young females – and he comes from
Haiti, where the black slaves revolted and enslaved the wives and daughters of
their former Masters.’
Haiti? Surely, thought
Emma, that's the island in the Caribbean, where they speak a sort of French. No
wonder he has an odd accent. But what did the doctor mean about him being
Ursula’s overseer in charge of her girls? He's a man! A black man from Haiti
looking after Ursula's girls!
She knew about black
eunuchs controlling girls in Moorish harems. But this was England, and Sabhu with his deep voice, was clearly no eunuch . . .
'Now, ‘ the lady doctor
was saying, ‘I’m going to give you a little injection that will make you sleep
for the journey – and when you wake up you’ll be in your new surroundings.’
She took hold of Emma’s
tied arm and thrust the needle into it.
'Now I'll leave you to
have a nice little sleep,' said the doctor. Then the doctor pointed at the
frightening looking black man, now sitting on a bench opposite her. 'Mr Sabhu will be staying with you, so you'll be all right. And
when you wake up you'll be in his care along with your little companions - Miss
de Vere's other girls '
The doctor followed the
other men out of the back of the car. The rear door was slammed shut. Emma
heard them climb into the front. She heard the engine being started and then
they drove off.
Emma looked at the
sinister big Haitian.
'You just have good
sleep!' he muttered, adding with a laugh, 'I now in charge of you! You soon
learn call me, “Mr Sabhu, Sir”
‘Oh!’ gasped Emma. To have to call this uneducated black brute ‘Sir’. How
degrading!
As the van drove
quietly off, Emma lay helpless strapped onto her stretcher, but her mind
reeling. What, she wondered, was going to happen to her back in Ursula’s power
again? What was Sabhu’s mysterious First Treatment?
What did being sponsored for some equally mysterious Second Treatment mean?
What was Doctor Anna’s role in all this? And above all what was the role of
this huge and ugly Haitian brute called Sabhu?
Soon she began to feel
drowsy and began to remember ... to remember about the Baroness..