Chapter 8. Disaster
Mary slept little and awoke early. She arose, washed and cleaned her teeth again
and noisily started the fire going. She made tea but not coffee. Hearing her
cluttering around, Vernon woke, visited the bathroom and came to the table where
Mary was sipping her tea. Bending down he kissed her neck and whispered, "I'm
sorry. I really am. I didn't want that to happen like that."
"You're the master. I am only a slave. Sir. You have me for ten more days to do
with as you please. I must accept that." The reply was in a flat monotone. "Do
as you will. I am only here to pay for my crime."
Vernon kissed her neck again and repeated, "Mary, I really am sorry." Lifting
Mary to a standing position, he opened the front of her robe and looked at her
breasts. They were still very pink but no deep stripe marks. "Would you like
some cream on them?" Vernon enquired.
"Its up to you Sir."
"Damn Sonja," said Vernon almost inaudibly.
They heard Sonja go to the bathroom and return to bed. "Take her some coffee,"
Vernon said, "I think she will need it after all the wine she drank."
"Yes, Sir!"
She made the coffee stronger than she knew Sonja liked and took it in and left
it by the bedside almost without looking at the figure in the bed. Before she
could leave Sonja called, "Mary, please ask Vernon if he has any paracetamol or
aspirin, my head's killing me."
"Yes, ma'am."
Vernon found the tablets and suggested she also take in a glass of Andrew's
Liver Salts. She made the foaming brew again adding more crystals making it
stronger and saltier than required. Maybe she would find the taste revolting
too.
When Mary returned Sonja was sitting up in bed with her ample breasts fully
exposed above the bedclothes. "I wouldn't mind using the flogger on those," she
thought, "A pay back would do her good," but she kept the words to herself. As
she turned to leave Sonja caught her arm and held her back. "Close the door and
sit here, I want to talk to you."
"I don't think we have much to say to each other. The sooner you leave the
better and the sooner I get out of this mess the better as well," Mary retorted.
"Do as you are told slave girl."
"I am not your slave girl."
"Maybe not, but I would only have to ask Vernon and you would be told to stay,
so just close the door and sit." Mary did as she was told, wondering what Sonja
could say that would make up for last night.
Dealing with people was something Sonja was good at. That is why Vernon employed
her. She started in boldly, "You love him don't you?"
"I hate him," vehemently answered.
"You think you do at the moment but that is only after last night. When I came,
I could see it in your eyes."
"No." Mary didn't want to believe it.
"Yes, and I think he likes you more than he would have us believe. I am not
going to apologise for last night. In a way it tested both of you."
"It showed me how really perverted he is."
"Not necessarily. I put him in a situation where he couldn't reasonably back
down without losing face. He didn't have to put himself under you. He did I
think to show he cared and wouldn't ask you to do anything he wouldn't do
himself. He didn't enjoy it either but he got his own back on me by making me
drink from him as well as you. I didn't plan on that."
"Why did you want to do it to me, Sonja? Were you jealous? Are you in love with
him?"
"First of all I don't love him but I do like him and kinda want to protect him
from the mercenary bitches that try to get at his money. I like him but don't
love him. We fuck together well and we enjoy it but I am too much like him. I
want to be boss and two bosses together create problems. Had you not been here
yesterday afternoon when we went through the presentation, we would have been
arguing and squabbling over minor details. I think he wanted to impress you. Was
I jealous? Probably at least a little but I think it was more the protection
thing. I wouldn't have been surprised if you had asked to leave this morning. He
couldn't have done anything much about it but instead you are giving him the
cold shoulder while still obeying his commands. That is brave and honourable of
you."
"I was one of those mercenary bitches you referred to but I intend to keep to
our agreement."
"Mary, you were openly mercenary but you were only after a set amount of money.
A £1,000, a paltry sum to him. The real money grabbers are those that want to
lure him into marriage and then get a large cut of the divorce settlement. I
don't think you are one of those. If you marry him it will be for the right
reasons."
"I hate him and what he has done to me - and you too for that matter."
"You may well hate me, but underneath you don't really hate him. You have had so
many new experiences in these last few days, many of them traumatic and painful,
others more pleasurable. Overall though I think you gained more than you lost.
Think it over."
"I don't think I need any more advise from you. I was resigned to my fate until
you came and upped the stakes with your disgusting idea."
"Well Mary, I am going to give the advise anyway. I have known Vernon much
longer than you remember. If I was in your place I would continue with the cold
shoulder attitude for a while and then gradually thaw out. You may well get back
to where you were or better."
"I'll work things out for myself if you don't mind."
"Okay Mary, but try not to think too badly of me. When you get to being Vernon's
real secretary, we will be in frequent contact. Anyway, good luck and if you
want to get away, then be ready before I leave and you can have a ride to
London."
Mary turned and left the room. Vernon was cooking breakfast. "What was all that
about?" he enquired.
"Oh. Just some free advise," Mary answered dully.
Breakfast over, Vernon asked, "We won't be able to go out walking until Sonja
leaves and that will be at least 10.30. Pity because it looks like a nice day.
But we need to get some more supplies so do you want to come with me to Malham
or wait here?"
"Its Sunday, Sir, shops don't open to 10 am on Sundays."
"Oh so it is. We'll go for a drive first then. Are you coming or staying?" He
guessed she wouldn't want to stay alone in the house with Sonja and hoped that
being out in the fresh air wouldn't bring them together again.
They dressed in their outdoor clothes and about 9.30 left calling out to Sonja,
"We'll probably be back before you leave but if not, lock up and put the key
under the rock."
The heavy overnight rain had cleared and the morning was now bright but with a
strong cold wind. Vernon tried conversing with Mary but she only responded with
one or two words, hardly ever a sentence and always suffixed with "Sir." Perhaps
a walk will bring her into a better humour he thought. He drove the four miles
to the start of one of the footpaths that criss-crossed the moor and parked the
Rangerover. Zipping up their jackets and pulling their woolly hats down over
their ears they started off, Vernon leading the way. Both started to enjoy the
walk in the bright breezy if somewhat slippery conditions but there was still
this invisible barrier of silence between them. Each was wrapped in their own
thoughts.
For the first quarter of a mile the path rose gently over a low hill and then
descended to a small stream which normally, in the summer at least, was easily
fordable. Today, after the rain of the previous two weeks and the heavy downpour
last night, the stream was wide and running hard. Realizing they would not be
able to cross at that point Vernon moved a couple of yards upstream and stepped
on a boulder to get a better look at the situation. Unfortunately the strong
current had washed much of the soil from under it and the rock rolled sliding
Vernon into the water. In the millisecond during his slide, Vernon just thought
he would get his feet wet but the boulder rolled too and trapped his right foot.
Catching him off balance, the force of the water knocked him over, twisting his
leg at an angle to his foot and plunging him face down into the stream.
Mary, who had been gazing across the stream and deciding she wasn't going to
attempt to cross, turned to tell Vernon this just as he fell. "Vernon!" she
yelled, "Are you alright?" As soon as she said it she realized he wasn't. He was
lying face down in the cold water struggling to get up but could find nothing to
get a purchase on with his hands and the pain in his foot and leg was terrible.
Blindly Mary waded in and held his head above the torrent. "Get up, Vern, get
up!"
"I can't, I cant," he groaned, "My foot is trapped."
Mary reached down his leg to the boulder and felt rather than saw how his foot
was not in alignment with his leg. She pushed the boulder and while it rocked a
little it didn't move far enough to release the foot. She had to get more
purchase on it than she could. Trying to keep Vernon's head above the water with
one hand, she sat in the stream and pushed the rock with both feet. Helped by
the force of the water it rolled, freeing the foot.
Somehow she managed to roll him out of the water and on to the bank. It was then
began to take in the full import of their predicament. They were both completely
soaked with cold water. Vernon was shivering uncontrollably. His foot and leg
was twisted at an odd angle and it was obvious he wouldn't be able to walk. The
cold wind added to the chill factor caused by their wet clothing. They were out
of sight and it was unlikely any other walkers would pass by at that time of
year. Mary quickly debated the options. One, to leave Vernon and walk back to
the car where there was a mobile phone or two, to try and carry him to the car.
If the leg was broken she didn't ought to move him but if she left him he might
die of hypothermia. Vernon was drifting in and out of consciousness. Mary
decided, rightly or wrongly she couldn't leave him. At ten and a half stones he
wasn't all that heavy, about the same as she but wet clothing added to the
weight. Although cold and shivering herself, she experimentally lifted him on to
her shoulders. The adrenaline was still flowing through her veins as it had been
since she had started to rescue Vernon from the water. Slowly she made her way
back up the hill. It now seemed like a mountain. After only a hundred yards, she
had to rest. Then another slow hundred yards. And another. And another. Slowly
she crested the hill. The exertion warmed her a little but she still felt very
cold. A further rest in the lee of a rock outcrop and she started the descent.
She could see the Rangerover now but it looked far away even though she knew it
was less than a quarter of a mile. Another eighty yards. The distance between
stops was decreasing as fatigue set in. "I can't go much further," she said to
herself as she lifted him and stumbled on again. Then she saw it, a van coming
along the moorland road. She waved. She lowered Vernon to the ground slipped off
her jacket and waved that. Vernon had earlier laughed at the contrast between
its bright red colour and his own dirt green but now she hoped its brightness
would be seen.
Father and son duo Les and Fred Bartlett, were off to do a 'moonlighting' job on
a farm replacing some fencing when Fred, who was in the passenger seat, pointed
out the couple on the hills to his father. "They look to be in trouble," he
said. Les, saw the Rangerover and parked alongside. "I think that's Vernon's
car, you know, the southerner who brings those fancy bints into the pub. Has the
cottage by the Harris's," Les said.
Getting out they half walked, half ran to where Mary had stopped and laid Vernon
down. She cradled him to her. His eyes opened and looked at her. "Mary, Mary,
I'm sorry," his words were feint but audible.
"It's okay Vern, we're rescued. Just lay quiet."
Now that her ordeal seemed over Mary started shaking violently and was still in
this condition when the two men approached. Stutteringly she tried to explain
but they quickly got the visual message. "Fred," Les spoke to his son, "You
carry Vernon to the car and I'll help the lady." Seemingly with ease, Fred
carried Vernon down the hill and Les, half supporting Mary, helped her walk
unsteadily to the car.
"Where's the keys?" Les asked. Mary pointed to a pocket in Vernon's jacket.
Fortunately it was zipped and the keys were still there. Les opened the
passenger door and helped Fred get Vernon inside. He was unconscious again. Mary
got in alongside and held Vernon tightly against her, talking softly to him in a
shivering voice.
"Dial 999 on the mobile in the van, and get an ambulance," Les ordered his son.
Les opened the drivers side door got in and started the engine and after running
it for a few moments turned the heat full on. She tried to thank Les but the
words were difficult to form in her mouth. For a while she felt as if she wasn't
part of her body. Fred returned and told them the ambulance was on its way but
would take about 20 minutes to get here from Settle. Seeing the shivering pair,
he suggested he get the old blanket from the back of the van and on doing so
wrapped it around them. "Did you carry him all the way from the river?" Fred
asked Mary.
Mary nodded. "My God," Fred exclaimed, "I don't know how you did it. It was as
much as I wanted to do to get him down the hill. You're different to the women
he usually brings here. "
Vernon's eyes opened again but with consciousness came pain. He moan and groaned
loudly before drifting off again. The ambulance only took fifteen minutes to
arrive. Vernon was put on a stretcher, wrapped in a space blanket and
transferred to the vehicle. Mary, also wrapped in a space blanket walked and was
laid in another cot alongside. Les said he would drive the Rangerover to
Vernon's house and let Mrs. Harris know. Mary didn't have chance to answer
before the doors closed.
********
Sonja heard the Rangerover return just as she was picking up her cases to leave.
"That's good," she muttered, "Just in time to carry my cases to the car." Then
hearing keys drop through the letter box on to the floor, she went to the door
just as a van pulled up. "Morning," she smiled at the two men, "What's going
on?"
"Sorry miss, I didn't realise he'd brought two ladies with him this time. I
think I have seen you before though in the pub."
"What's going on?" Sonja repeated.
Les and Fred explained the situation as they knew it. At the end Fred piped in
with, "You'd better not cross that young lady. She's a tough kettle of fish and
no mistake to have carried him all that way over the hill, and them both being
soaking wet and cold." Sonja had doubts now about the wisdom of whipping Mary's
tits the night before. Supposing Mary had turned on her?
Les gave her directions to the hospital and suggested she might take a change of
clothes for them and asked if she would let Mrs. Harris know because they were
already late for the job they were supposed to do that day.
