The Fowler and His Net – Chapter 8

Friday nights at the Plough had become more tedious for Gary as late. There had been no bang on the wall from next door for two weeks and the regular nights out with Tracey has ceased, in part, due to his increasingly erratic behaviour. So, he was left with the regulars, who, suspicions of his mood swings, ensured that he chose the pub lounge, rather than the tap room as a haunt. It was here that he spied two girls that looked familiar to him, both were dressed in short skirts and both had their cleavage on show, they were both quite young, and both wore their clothes confidently. On his next trip to the bar he asked Barbara, the barmaid about them.

‘Oh them, they’re Don Soper’s lasses.’

‘Them!’ replied Gary. Tina and Alison had always been little fat things. No longer.

She cleaned a glass and shook her head. ‘a right couple of strumpets, them. Been through most ‘t young lads in’t village.’

‘’Oh, aye?’ inquired Gary, with interest. He wondered why he hadn’t heard this.

‘well, ‘es been put away, Don, for grievous last month, He found one lad wi’em both in’t bedroom I ‘eard, put I’im in hospital. Now, ‘t lasses are runnin’ riot.’

When Barbara moved away to serve another customer, Gary thought he might try his luck. He approached the girls confidently.

‘Ayup girls, how yet doin’’?’

The two provocatively dressed youngsters looked him up and down and giggled to each other.

‘’Are you off out tonight then?’ he persevered.

‘Aye, we’re off out.’ The plumper of the two replied, more giggling between the two.

‘I’m Gary. Ted Fowler’s lad’.

‘Aye, we know.’ The buxom twosome rolled their eyes and Gary got the message. He was not the sort of companion they were looking for.

‘Come on Al, ‘ said Tina, let’s get off for town, I fancy some fun.’

‘Aye,’ replied Alison, ‘Its bloody dead here.’

The two girls found their jackets and wiggled their way out of the plough, leaving Gary to ponder his declining pulling ability. He put the whole episode down to age. He must have been ten years older than them. Or maybe he was being shunned. He found it odd, but determined to look on the bright side. He was going on holiday.

———-

And Gary woke at eight on the Saturday morning, changed in his outlook and with excited expectation, he had buzzed around his house packing those things he knew would be cool and comfortable in a hot climate and that would by association be potent to the two new women in his life. But, now, Gary was short of breath and sweating. He had a dreadful headache.

He had dug out his old small duffel bag and had scrubbed it in the bath, his reasoning was that all that met him in this new country, from the pilots, to the airport workers, to the drivers would know he was a “bit of rough”, no matter what he did, so he might as well embrace that by carrying his small number of things in the most unprepossessing bag he owned. But now Gary had an itch on his nose that was out of his reach and he cursed his stupidity.

He had left his van outside of his house, had walked up the Grange and had crunched up the gravel drive. He was surprised to be led into the dark cellar, where Rachel was apparently waiting and was shocked by the sweet taste of the large cotton wool wad that had been clamped over his mouth and nose. Now, Gary felt exposed in the dimly lit cellar.

There were voices chattering to each other that he could just make out. ‘Isn’t he handsome, Debby? I think he is the best looking boy in the world.’

‘If you like that kind of thing I guess,’ replied Lady Deborah Mathers, daughter of the Earl of Capacaldy, ‘personally, I prefer my men to look a little less industrial.’

‘Well, I think he’s lovely and the best thing is I get to spend lots and lots of time with him.’

‘Yes,’ Deborah smirked. ‘I wonder whether he will enjoy it? Most don’t, and he doesn’t look the delicate type does he?’

‘No, he’s not delicate at all and Mummy says that he deserves everything he gets, but he’s been really nice to me.

‘Humph, and to my sister as well, the silly fat heifer.’ The elder girl replied, ‘But, she will be mooning over a new man next week; such a little floozy.’

The conversation paused as the two stepped closer to him.

‘Is he awake yet, do you think?’ Rachel asked.

’It’s been over twenty four hours, he won’t want us to wake him up that’s for sure.’

‘No, I wouldn’t want to do it like Mummy says. I do hope he wakes up by himself.’

Gary, in his restrained state, took note of this. Pretending to be asleep might not be a good idea.

‘He does have good calf muscles,’ Deborah noted, ‘I expect that’s from all “’t’ard graft” that these people do.

‘Oh, yes. I used to watch him working for hours and hours when he wasn’t wearing a shirt.’

‘Quite ill mannered, to do that when he knew a little girl was watching. But, that is what the working class are like Rachel. I do despair at auntie Samantha sometimes…’.

‘Mummy?’ Rachel replied defensively.

‘Oh, Rachel petal, sleeping around is fine in ones own class, but your mother doesn’t seem to distinguish between the lower orders.’

Rachel’s mind rotated around this statement until she finally alighted on its true meaning. ‘But surely uncle Charles isn’t one of them is he, he is such a gentleman?’

‘A lawyer Rachel!’ Deborah declared, ‘and goodness knows what else besides.’

‘Well I think he is lovely too even though he is so old.’

Deborah tutted. ‘I think he is far too scheming, but then that’s what one gets from that middle sort, at least with these ruffians,’ she pointed at Gary, ‘they tell one what’s what, we have that in common at least.’

Rachel sulked over this attack on her loved ones. ‘Mummy told me that you’re going away to Oxford and that in Oxford you’re going to be put in your place.’

‘God! You’re as silly as my sister. That’s what pretending is all about. I have no problem with being palatable to the grabbers and also loathing them; that’s what Mummy has been teaching me for the last eighteen years. According to Daddy it’s all temporary anyway, they will soon disappear and we will be left with the upper class and the oiks again, just like it should be.’

‘Well, ‘ Rachel sounded resigned, ‘I suppose it’s all too complicated for me to understand. You are probably right because you are so clever Debby.’

The twosome was interrupted by Mrs. Barton who immediately notified them of some new arrivals. ‘The girls are here, have you fed Mr. Fowler yet?’

‘He is still asleep Aunt Samantha.’

‘Still!’ Samantha declared, ‘ ‘I knew the Colonel used too much of that chemical, well I suppose we had better wake him. Get the equipment darling.’

Gary thought at this moment it was best to make his consciousness known to everyone. He groaned loudly. ‘Urgh!’

‘My goodness it lives.’ Said a surprised Deborah.

Gary’s hands and ankles were held tightly by a quartet of soft restraints chained to what looked like a rather complicated exercise bench. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ he angrily demanded.

‘What does it look like Mr. Fowler? You are in the basement of my house and you are being confined against your will.’ This was an accurate portrayal of circumstances with which Gary could not argue.

‘Why,’ Gary pleaded, ‘what the bloody hell have I done?’

‘Shall we tell him girls?’ Samantha asked Rachel and Deborah.

‘I think we should,’ replied Rachel, ‘because he so lovely and handsome.’

‘Good grief Rachel you are so soft,’ replied Deborah, ‘I think we should let him find out for himself, slowly, if he can of course, which I doubt.’

‘I am inclined to agree. It will make everything just more delicious,’ replied Samantha, ‘and I am sure the girls upstairs will want to reveal it all.’

‘Bloody hell,’ replied Gary, ‘you fucking cows! You fucking stupid bitches!’

‘My goodness, ‘ Deborah tittered, ‘what an outburst!’

‘Mr. Fowler!’ Mrs. Barton instructed. ‘Please refrain from such profanity. You know full well what might happen to you if you misbehave.’

‘Mummy, are you going to squeeze Mr. Fowler’s testicles really hard again?’

‘Possibly darling, but we have him in a compromised position, so we can do what we like with him really, and the opportunities are endless.’

‘Help! Help!’ screamed Gary. ‘Jesus Christ! Help!’

‘I think you should stop Mr. Fowler.’ Said Samantha, calmly.

‘Down here! Please. Help.’

‘Mr. Fowler, this is very regrettable. The cellar is very old and the stone is thick.’

‘Please, help. Help!’

‘God, this is so pathetic!’ Deborah added, ‘Maybe we should tighten him up a little.’

‘Yes, I don’t want to gag him yet, there will be plenty of that to come. Rachel, darling, can you wind the blue handle there?’

There was a cold ratcheting sound out of Gary’s line of sight as Rachel wound the crank on the wall. His arms drifted wider as the chains tightened with a grey tinkle. ‘You must know that the nearest house is half a mile away. Your shouting is of no use whatsoever.’

‘Help! Help!’ Gary bellowed.

‘Well, I think we should leave him for another couple of hours, now he is awake, he can reflect. I would prefer his cooperation in this endeavour, but am quite satisfied if we do not have it.’

‘Do we leave him hungry Mummy, I was so looking forward to feeding him.’

‘I think it is better if he deserves his food don’t you darling?’

‘I guess so Mummy.’

‘Well, I think we should gag him and get started,’ suggested Deborah, ‘he won’t learn even if he was calm.’

The voices disappeared behind him and levitated up the stairs. Gary caught the last few words before the cellar door closed leaving him in darkness. ‘that is part of it, the mixture of pain and pleasure, Lady Deborah.’

‘’Humph, new fangled…’ and then silence and he was left to piece together these disturbing new developments. Before the panic, came the acute disappointment. He wasn’t going to Portugal, and probably wasn’t going to sexually satisfy the Barton’s.