Chapter Eight
“That was quick; I thought the hotel renovations would take a lot longer,” I said, glancing around the familiar room, “The corridor and new carpeting look nice and fresh, but no major changes in here”.
“Still going on all around me but just the one in here”, she replied and nodded towards the big bow windows and the sleek modern slimline radiator beneath them. “The plumber said my noisy old antique wasn’t worth trying to do anything with repair and salvage wise. I must confess I won’t miss its regular nightly prolonged grumbles. There are certain fittings in this building that I regard as ‘old friends’ but not that noisy thing!”
I took my usual seat in response to her gesture. “Rumble or grumble?”
“Oh, definitely grumble. Help yourself; the coffee pot only preceded you by a couple of minutes. Yes, a loud grumble, that cantankerous old hunk of iron was long past its retirement age and wasn’t averse to letting you know it in the middle of the night,” she laughed.
I grinned at her and poured myself a cup of coffee, and reached for a way too tempting cholate biscuit before sitting back in my chair, waiting for her to begin the next instalment. I wondered if I should politely remind her of where we’d broken off previously, but she pre-empted me.
“Comfortable?”
I nodded, for my mouth was full of delicious home-baked biscuit. Was that the correct term for something baked in the hotel? I half wondered as she resumed her story and then promptly forgot that thread.
“Eighteen months, I said as I recall,” she mused. “The time I stayed on in London, but as I told you, things slowly changed as indeed I did now, I think back upon those days.” She stopped and frowned. “I remember quite clearly a growing sense of…of; I suppose frustration would be the closest term I can think of, although not absolutely apt. I was enjoying my new life, and yet it was too sporadic, too ad hoc as it were. I must confess that I am not the most organised of people, but I do like a degree of order in my life.”
She paused to take a sip from her cup and thought for a moment before continuing. “It was fun at first all the sudden coming and going of Celine’s reluctant acquisitions, but after a while, it began to, well, not become annoying because I found it all so enjoyable.”
“Irritating, perhaps”, I offered.
“No, but a near miss. Erratic might be a better term. It was all so frustratingly hit and miss and, at times, downright exasperating. I’d go weeks without a playmate, and then when I did get one, as often as not, they’d be a ‘strictly hands-off reserved for future owners use only!’. She paused and laughed. “Heck, it wasn’t even bus stop syndrome, you know, where you wait forever in the rain then three come along at once. Hell, I’d be lucky to get one!”
I flashed her a sympathetic smile, wondering when the last times she had waited for a bus or even been on one?
“The pattern of unwilling guests I hosted seemed to change significantly over that period so that by the end of my little stint as accommodation gaoler, almost every one of them was an ‘off-limits’ to me. It seemed to me that I had been relegated to a mere custodial role. As I probably said previously, I derived a degree of pleasure out of that initially but doing nothing but feeding, washing, toileting and cleaning up after those captives soon became decidedly onerous!”
“Not to mention frustrating, I expect?”
Just for a second, I was a little startled by the angry, hostile look she threw at me until I realised that I was merely in the line of fire from a distant memory. She gave a little shiver containing that suppressed outburst of anger and composed herself, but I noted a certain something smouldering in her eyes.
“Frustrating! Pah, I’ll say it was! Those…those wretched creatures, they were…..so ungrateful, so….so lacking in respect would you believe” her voice trailed off in momentary indignation that I found amusing but sensibly kept my expression strictly neutral. I mean, what did she expect from them? Thanks!
“The way they behaved towards me, my goodness, how I yearned to introduce them to my painful toys. I’d soon have had them singing to a different tune.” She stopped and looked intently at me. “Why aren’t you laughing?”
The question took me completely by surprise, but before I’d even begun to get my brain into gear, she continued with her narrative without waiting.
“My niece always finds that so funny!” she said with a wry grin. ” I can see why; I mean if you are abruptly kidnapped off the street, stripped naked, collared, manacled and find yourself in a small spartan cell on a limited diet, shitting in a bucket, etc. etc. Then showing respect and gratitude to your jailer is not going to be top of your agenda!”
I shook my head, and now I was grinning. “No, I suppose not”.
“Mmmm, some of them were so, well I don’t know how they behaved once they left my place but had they belonged to me, well!”
“Attitude adjustment?” I offered.
It was her turn to nod, slowly and smile. “Attitude adjustment, exactly. Such a delightful expression and one I’ve used many times myself. I’d almost, well, I’d thought about calling a halt or at least telling Celine to find another temporary location for those ‘untouchables’ of hers. I was worried, though; if I did that, she would house all of them elsewhere; thus, I’d be no better off. Worse probably!!”.
“Something of a predicament”, I observed.
“Quite, nor did I want to upset my newfound friend. Celine had opened the door to a whole new world for me, and I certainly didn’t want to find it slammed in my face! Therefore, my mind started down another tack. I had two very secure cells and rarely were both occupied, so why not see if I could obtain a suitable ‘pet’ of my own. I had a few reservations about that though”
“How so. Your facilities seemed suitable from what I have gathered, or was it price?”
She pulled a face before replying, “Various things I suppose held me back. Price, no, not so much. I had accumulated a substantial sum in my new bank account by that point. Celine was never stingy with her payments. I dare say I could even have cut a deal with her for one of the ‘spontaneous’ acquisitions her shady associates brought along from time to time. It was more a case of practicalities, in the long run, I suppose”.
I waited while she topped her coffee cup up, blew on it gently and then continued. “Practicalities. West London, I concluded, was not the best location to keep such an exotic ‘pet’ permanently incarcerated. There may well be people; indeed, I know of one rather nasty ex-model who does just that not far from my old stomping ground, but I wanted more elbow room as it were. I wanted more isolation plus, oh, I don’t know, but I just wanted more, substantially more than I had at that point. I can’t put the why’s, whatever’s and wherefores properly into words!
“Greedy”, I risked reproving her with a broad grin and a wink diluting any sting in my comment.
“Not in the least. I felt betwixt and between, stuck in the mud and going nowhere, if you know what I mean. Anyway, even before I could say anything to Celine, everything abruptly changed overnight. It was one of those rare occasions when I did have both my cells occupied. A real duo for once, a young Australian couple and a right feisty pair they were as well. I probably had as much vitriolic lip off that pair as a dozen others I’d housed put together. The girl mainly being the chief culprit!”.
I laughed. “Loud too,” I expect if they were Aussies!
“Loud, crude and exceedingly hostile! That pair certainly tested my soundproofing, and that was without me even laying a finger on them. Well, correction, fingers and hands were needed to feed and clean, but you know very well what I mean!”
I nodded. “Unappreciative of the room service at your establishment! Bet you were tempted, though?”
It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, my yes, like never before!” she paused and chuckled. “I’d be lying if I were to say that my slapping hand didn’t accidentally meet flesh occasionally! The girl, Marlene, her name was or had been. Pretty, no, she was more than just pretty but that foul mouth on her, talk about verbal filth, oh my goodness! Way worse than her boyfriend! Anyway, I suppose that I ought to be grateful to them, for they were part of the pivot that resulted in my abrupt change of direction and discovering my true vocation!”
I sat up. “Your move to France and pastures new, I take it?”
“Very apt, the pastures part in particular. Yes, I must have only had them for a couple of days, three maybe four at the most, before Celine called to say she was coming to see them and me. The ‘and me’ sounded a bit ominous. Nothing I could put my finger on, but it was the way she said it I recall, particularly as she added that we needed to have a little chat about things!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Things! That does rather sound as though she was not happy about something?” I observed, but she shook her head vigorously.
“No, no, it was nothing like that, although I must admit that my thoughts ran along those very same lines for several days.” She stopped and chuckled. “I said as much to her when she did explain, and the poor girl was most apologetic for having caused me to worry needlessly!”
I nodded. “So, it was about a change, a change of circumstance then, or situation?”
“Perceptive, but given what I have said previously, you don’t get any brownie points for playing Sherlock Holmes, I’m afraid!” She shrugged her shoulders. “Celine had decided to retire, temporarily perhaps! I noted she did emphasise the temporary as though she wasn’t entirely sure. Her mother was very ill, the same wretched creeping insidious malady that would eventually take Celine, alas”. She finished in a regretful whisper.
I eyed her with interest as she produced a small packet of tissue from a nearby handbag, extracted one and dabbed at her eyes. Curious, I thought, one moment she can talk about a kidnapped couple held captive without the slightest trace of emotion and yet, now? Curious, very curious, I repeated to myself.
I watched her precise movements as she folded the tissue into four and carefully placed it down on the coffee tray rather than just crumpling it into a ball as most people would have done, me included. Her handbag also caught my eye as she replaced the packet, or rather her shoulder bag. It was an old, very battered brown leather bag, more satchel like than bag, and from the visible scars had served its owner through many campaigns!
“An old friend, a very old friend indeed and most reliable,” she said, following my gaze.
An appropriate moment to change the subject for a few minutes, I thought. “Gucci, Givenchy or Louis Vuitton,” I asked without thinking but knowing how rich her unusual occupation must have made her over the years. I should have known better!
Her response was to throw back her head and emit that eardrum threatening laugh of hers once again. “Way off target, I’m afraid”, she laughed, calming down. “Designer labels, really! Is that how you see me? Good heavens, I am neither a film star nor a pop star and certainly not some cheap over made up little tart lusting after things she can’t afford merely to impress!” she grinned and waved a hand towards the bedroom door. “Go check out my wardrobe if you doubt me, go on, but the only labels you will find are ones out there on the average high street” she waved towards the window this time. “Nor are any of them brand new, one use only, either!”
I smiled. “I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, I’m far too comfortable to get out of this chair,” I temporised.
“Designer labels! Pah, expensive status symbols for wannabe’s, silly influencers and so-called celebrities and such!” she almost spat the words out.
I’d obviously touched on a raw nerve for some reason, interesting, but I decided not to explore any further, but I didn’t have to, for she elaborated immediately.
“I’m probably out of step, but I loath this current trend of reality television and stupid boring soap operas and the whole genre of these internet ‘influencers. The fake tans, the oversized false eyelashes, the fake fingernails! It’s all so damn phoney so plastic so….”
“Irritating”, I offered.
She laughed. “Downright fucking annoying”, she declared vehemently. “and you can spell the F word in capitals” she laughed again and then became serious. “Oh, I’m just getting old and cranky plus, given my track record, I certainly have no right to complain about social trends. I went my own way when I was younger and a very bizarre way it was, so who am I to moan about a generation also dreaming or seeking a certain something beyond that provided by the ordinary reality of their mundane daily lives!”
She picked her coffee cup up, drained it one long gulp, then smacked it down loudly upon its saucer, clapped her hands, squared her shoulders, and laughed again, winking at me and giving me a mock salute. “Alright, back on parade, mini-rant over, so let us resume. Actually,” she nodded to her bag, “it came from a car boot sale or the near equivalent. I stopped for lunch in a small village about twenty kilometres from Grenoble. There was some sort of charity fundraising event, and I spotted this on a stall as I walked back to my car. It wasn’t new then, and if it ever had a label, designer or otherwise upon it, it was long gone!”
“Love at first sight!”
“More a case of practicalities at first sight. I’d broken the zip and catch on its predecessor a few weeks before, and the temporary stand-in I was using kept muffing its lines every time it took to the stage, as it were. It just didn’t feel right. On the other hand, this one has been a thorough trooper through every performance, even if it is getting a bit like the proverbial ‘good old axe’.
“Two new heads and three new handles”, I quipped.
“Make that one patch, one zip repair, and several visits to a very ancient cobbler for some new stitching, and I do mean ancient. I’m told that he used to throw stones at coal-scuttle helmets with his school friends as a young child. Fortunately, those occupying both helmets and his village at the time took a tolerant view of such juvenile actions against the Reich!”
“Which rather neatly does take us over to France”, I observed.
She nodded. “Quite, I’ve been meandering again, haven’t I? Next time wave your hands and scream, stop at me; otherwise, we will be both still sitting here in ten year’s time.” She paused to look thoughtfully at one age-spotted hand. “Well, one of us will be, maybe!”
I was about to make a gesture dismissing such morbid thoughts, but her raised hand beat me to it as she continued. “Now back to London briefly first. Celine was delighted with that ad hoc Aussie pair I had locked up. She’d known about them, of course before she arrived, but I gather her ‘acquirers’ hadn’t been big on details when letting her know about them”.
“Was that unusual?” I asked out of interest.
She shook her head, paused and then nodded. “Occasionally yes but usually no. I mean, those people who perform such services are not daft; they’re not idiots by any means. They have been going for many years without any major problems. Any thug can snatch someone off the street but getting clean away with it time after time after time, that’s another thing entirely. Even for those, what did I just call them?”
“Ad hoc acquisitions”, I supplied.
“Yes, those that were ‘not to special order’ cases, so to speak, were not just taken arbitrarily on first sight like making an impulse buy at the supermarket checkout! I’m a sucker for those offers,” she confessed with a sigh. Anyway, cutting straight to the quick for a change. They are excellent, highly efficient at obtaining information and checking people out. Even those that just sort of pop up on the radar at short notice, as it were.
Please don’t bother asking me about the how’s and where for’s and so forth. We are talking about an area where you don’t want to go poking your nose in and asking questions! Not unless you want to find yourself getting some unpleasant hands-on experience for a long, long time! Nor do I want any problematic phone calls or comebacks, either! They are so very proficient at finding those subjects that tick all the right boxes and for the unlucky ones where a convenient and convincing exit can be arranged, well…”
“Bye-bye, freedom”, I whispered and shivered.
My host shrugged indifferently. “Some lambs are born to give wool others sadly to make chops. I never allowed such thoughts to bother me unduly! My unwilling guests below must have passed all the required tests to have been delivered to me. Celine was delighted with them when I took her down to make the introductions. Ecstatic even!”
“She must have had a good customer in mind for them”, I observed.
There was a low chuckle from the chair opposite. “Oh my, yes, the girl certainly did! Have a guess?”
I frowned as I looked at her. “Guess!” then enlightenment dawned. Ah, no doubt her very favourite customer!”
“Precisely. A little retirement present to herself, from Celine to Celine, although with sadistic lust rather than love! I could see that nasty sparkle in her eyes as she ran her hands all over the merchandise, very noisy protesting merchandise, I might add, for I had removed their gags to allow them to feed from their bowls. I hadn’t expected my eager young French friend to arrive so early. Marlene, in particular, did not care for the expertly objective way Celine examined her from head to foot, leaving no intimate place unprobed. I wanted to gag them, but Celine would have none of it, for she seemed to find that tirade of filth emanating from the girl's mouth amusing rather than annoying!”
“So, she took them with her?”
A finger wagged at me. “Now, don’t you go trying to rush the story! The answer to that question is yes and no, and those two loud-mouthed antipodeans would play their part in furthering my sadistic education, not to mention setting my feet firmly on the road my life was to follow.