by Abigail Armani
Beth arrived home early and dumped her bag on the kitchen table. The sound of soft music emanating from somewhere upstairs made her smile. Joe always listened to music when he worked; it helped him to concentrate and gave him added inspiration to write his novel. Taking a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge, she grabbed a couple of glasses and made her way upstairs, intent on surprising him.
She did. Their bedroom door was ajar and she kicked it fully open with her foot.
"Surprise!" She burst into the room, her face wreathed with smiles.
Joe was lounging naked on the bed, his head cushioned by the satin-covered pillows. He looked like a Greek God with his dark blonde hair curling into the nape of his neck, and his honed body stretched out invitingly. His eyes opened, flashing sparks of blue. He was obviously startled.
"Beth! Bloody hell! What are you doing here?"
"I live here, silly. Sorry - were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake you."
Beth deposited the wine and glasses on the bedside table and bent to give her boyfriend a kiss. "This novel writing must be very taxing if it makes you take a nap in the middle of the afternoon. Still, now that I'm here, I may as well join you and wear you out properly."
Beth grinned and began unbuttoning her blouse, but her fingers stilled as she saw the look on his face. He had paled beneath his tan, and was looking extremely agitated.
"Joe? What's wrong?"
"Beth. I - we ... Oh God, I'm sorry, Beth."
"Sorry? Whatever for?" Her euphoria faded.
Outside, the sun hid behind a cloud, casting dappled shadows in the room. And then the bathroom door opened and a naked woman walked out, her skin still damp from the shower, her golden hair cascading in damp tendrils over her pert breasts. She entered the room and involuntarily clapped a hand over her mouth when she caught sight of Beth.
Beth looked at Jane. The two of them had been best friends since junior school. Jane stared back. She lowered her hand, and her pouty pink lips curved into the semblance of an ironic smile. She made no attempt to cover herself. Beth reeled in disbelief. Jane and Joe? How could they? She staggered backwards and looked once more at Joe. His guilt was evident by his hangdog expression. He held out his hands. It was a strange gesture, almost an entreaty.
"I'm sorry, Beth," he repeated.
"Well - she had to find out sooner or later," quipped Jane. She moved languidly over to the dressing table and picked up a brush, and began smoothing down her damp curls. It was Beth's hairbrush, on Beth's dressing table, in Beth's bedroom - and it was readily apparent that Jane had been shagging Beth's boyfriend. "These things happen, Beth. It's nothing personal."
Nothing personal? The words echoed hollowly. Beth felt physically sick. Here were the two people she loved most in the world, and they had been deceiving her in the most hateful of ways. It was too much to comprehend. Without another word, she turned away from both of them, walked out of the bedroom and stumbled towards the staircase. She felt suddenly nauseous. Her head spun. Her whole world crumbled.
She drove for hours in a state of shock, paying no heed to where she was heading, and not even remembering getting in the car. Soon, all traces of leafy suburbia and the clamour of the crowded city were left far behind, and the road took her North towards Northumberland.
The roads were quiet and still in the late Spring afternoon. In the distance was the impressive range of Cheviot hills which stretched over the Northumbrian border and into Scotland. But Beth barely noticed them or the wild and spectacular sweeps of surrounding countryside. She blinked back her tears and simply drove until her car coughed and spluttered and slowed, finally coming to a standstill on a road which was no more than a track in the middle of nowhere. Its only distinguishing feature was a tall black boundary stone, a solitary and ancient monolith with a circular hole drilled half way up.
The petrol gauge read empty, and Beth cursed her stupidity. With a shock, she realised that not only had she run out of petrol, in the rush to get out of the house she had not thought to bring her handbag containing money, cash cards, mobile phone and other personal belongings. There was nothing for it but to abandon her car and walk. Her plan was to hail a passing car, or call at a house and beg to use their phone to call the nearest garage. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was something to focus on.
So Beth locked the car and set off on foot. She continued North, and after the first half an hour, her feet began to ache, her toes cramping in the unsuitable court shoes as she plodded up the road cut into a hill. There had been not one car, nor any sign of human habitation, and as the sun began to slowly dip in the west, she shivered apprehensively. This was not good. The thought of having to spend the night alone in the dark was terrifying. In spite of the pain in her feet, she quickened her pace.
Some twenty minutes or so later, she reached a crossroads, and was just deliberating which road to take, when she heard a sound. It was the clip clop of horses" hooves, and the rattle of wheels bouncing along the road. At that moment, it was the most beautiful and most welcome sound ever. A horse and cart came into view, and Beth sighed with relief.
The cart drew nearer. A man of indeterminate years was at the reins, and next to him sat a big woman wearing a grey shawl and a yellow sun bonnet. A motley assortment of children rode in the back. They were all quite scruffily dressed with bits of hay sticking out of their hair, as though they had spent the day working in the fields - which, as it turned out, was exactly what they had been doing.
Feeling awkward, Beth stepped out to greet them, and waved her arms. The driver slowed and stopped the cart, and the big carthorse waited patiently.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm lost," began Beth.
"I can see that, lass," said the man. "'Tis not a good time to be lost, with the curfew approaching." He looked skyward at the setting sun, heralding the beginning of twilight.
"There's plenty of room in the back, lassie. In you get," smiled the woman in the bonnet. "You will ride with us to the castle. Take no notice of old Walter - we will be there before curfew."
"Thank you so much. I'm afraid I have no money with me. But when we get to the - the castle - I hope to find someone who has a phone."
Her new travelling companions exchanged brief but puzzled looks. They waited until Beth was seated in the back of the rickety old cart, and then resumed their journey.
The woman up front turned her head towards Beth. "I am Agnes. This here is my husband Walter. Next to you is Isabella and then Marjorie and Maria. And the boys are Thomas, Roger, Adam and Gilbert."
Beth smiled at the row of dirty inquisitive faces. "What a wonderful family you have. It's very kind of you to let me ride with you. My name is Elizabeth, but people mostly call me Beth."
"That's a nice name," said Marjorie. She extended a grubby little paw and shyly took hold of Beth's hand. "Are you staying to supper?"
"Well, I ..."
"Of course she is," declared Agnes emphatically. Call it women's intuition, but she noticed Beth's red and puffy eyes. "And if there's no one to meet her at the Castle, she can stay with us the night."
"Aye, that she can, and be welcome," nodded Walter. He flicked the reins and the old horse moved at a faster pace, pulling his load up the hill.
Beth was touched by the generosity of these people and thanked them warmly. She meant to ask more about this castle that they were heading for, and the curfew, but tiredness made her eyelids heavy. The sway of the cart and the rhythmic clop of the horses hooves lulled her, and very soon her head was nodding on her chest. Little Marjorie put a protective arm around Beth's shoulder as the cart wheels rumbled along the track.
Beth was still dozing when they arrived at the castle and were admitted by the guards through the big oak gates. Swarms of other folk were going through, some riding on horseback or on horse-drawn carts, but many on foot. People milled around amongst stray dogs, cats, goats and chickens. The pungent aroma of wood smoke from the cooking fires filled the air as people prepared for their evening meal.
Walter stopped in front of a rather ramshackle wooden structure. He jumped from the bench and unhitched the horse.
"I'll see to Clopper," he said, leading the horse into the stable.
Beth blinked sleepily, and followed the children up a rickety ladder that led to a dwelling over the stable. Looking over her shoulder, she realised that this was no isolated country pub by the name of The Castle, but a real castle, complete with turrets and battlements, and filled with people in the grounds. She blinked in surprise as Agnes quickly set to work lighting the candles and preparing supper, while the older boys blew the kindling into life on the fire. The other children were dispatched to fill buckets with water from the well in the castle grounds. Beth watched with some amusement when they returned and spilled half the contents on their way up the ladder.
Supper was a strange sort of broth containing oatmeal, onion and turnip, and some sort of stringy meat. On platters on the rough wooden table were set big hunks of bread to mop up the juices from the cooking pot, and there was also a slab of crumbly cheese and a jug of ale. Everyone tucked in and ate heartily. To her surprise, Beth found supper amazingly tasty, and she ate as hungrily as everyone else.
The family chattered about the day's work in the field, and the weather, and Mary the baker's wife, who had just had her twelfth baby. The children laughed and squabbled amicably, and Beth felt at ease. Thoughts of home crept unbidden into her mind, but she pushed them away. She was in no hurry to return. With a shock she realised that she had no home to return to, since it was Joe's house she had been living in. She yawned and tried not to think about her problems. Tomorrow she would find a phone and call a garage. All she needed right now was a good night's sleep.
"You are weary, Beth lass. Marjorie - take Beth to the middle room. She can share your pallet."
"Yes, Mama," said Marjorie, and tugged at Beth's sleeve.
The middle room was a generous name for a tiny space with three pallets arranged side by side on the floor. Apart from a wooden chair and a candlestick, there was no other furniture. But Beth was too tired to care, and lay down gratefully on the floor and snuggled down under the coarse blankets. Marjorie curled up next to her. They were joined shortly by Isabella and Maria, the four boys sleeping in an equally small space in the next 'room'.
Beth had just drifted off when she was rudely awakened by a sound like a pistol shot. She sat up in alarm and stared around her into the darkness. The sound was repeated again and again, and was accompanied by little squeals and grunts. Beth shook Marjorie's shoulder.
"Wake up! Wake up! What's that noise?"
"It's just Mama and Papa," replied Marjorie sleepily.
"But, what are they doing? It sounds like someone's getting hurt."
"They do it most nights," said Marjorie, and snuggled back down under the blankets.
"Take no notice," whispered Isabella. "It's just what they do. You'll get used to it."
"But what are they doing?"
The sounds came again, this time in a great volley of noise, peppered with screeching.
"They spank each other," said Isabella knowledgeably. "Don't worry, it doesn't go on for too long. You'll soon be able to go back to sleep."
Beth was bemused. "They spank each other? But why? What for?" But the girls were sleeping already and there was no one to answer her questions. Being next to the wall, she peered through a tiny crack into the room beyond. It was lit by the glow of two flickering candles.
A mattress of stuffed heather was positioned in the centre of the floor, and on it lay Agnes. She was wearing a grey-white nightgown which was rucked up to her waist, revealing her naked buttocks and thunderously wide thighs. Beth gasped, for the woman's ample bottom was red as a cherry. It quivered and wobbled each time Walter brought a hefty wooden paddle down onto his wife's bare bottom. Beth was astounded, and yet fascinated. Why - it actually seemed as though Agnes was enjoying this treatment.
Beth continued to watch through the little crack in the wall. Now Agnes was sticking her bottom out for more, and Walter obligingly cracked the paddle onto the proffered target. Agnes' twin moons beamed like beacons in a dark night. Her flesh seemed red and swollen, but if she was in pain, she gave no sign of it.
When Walter eventually put down the paddle, his hands caressed his wife's tenderised rump, and then his fingers began to wander in the direction of her secret and most intimate places. At that point, Bella decided she had seen enough. She lay back down and stared into the darkness thinking about what she had just seen, and puzzling at her own arousal and the wetness between her thighs. It was some considerable time before she fell asleep.
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