The St. Monica’s Youth Group
Looking at
herself in her full length mirror, Hilda Shakespeare smiled as she said “for an
older woman, Hilda my dear, you have still got it, and you know it don’t you?”
The red dye
she had used on her hair several weeks previously was starting to grow out, the
blond roots showing as she ran her fingers through it. She was in her late forties, and was looking
through a pair of turquoise framed glasses at herself, in her brown leather top
with cotton sleeves, grey checked skirt, dark tights and black leather ankle
boots.
“Olivia, when
are the rest of the young ladies coming round?”
“Seven, mum,”
her daughter called back up as Hilda hung a large gold locket round her neck,
and then started to walk down the stairs, smiling as she went into the front
room.
“Mum, that
looks ridiculous on you,” Olivia said form her
position on the couch. The young woman
was wearing a pink vest top, with a wide black webbing belt around her waist, a
blue denim skirt with a white lace lower half that came to her knees, and knee
length brown suede boots. Her blonde
hair was pinned back and platted behind her head, and she smiled as her mother
stared at her.
“All right,
all right – I’m no spring chicken, but I still think I look good,” Hilda said
with a grin, “so I am grabbing my handbag, and my car keys, and I am heading
for the door, and I...”
“am going to stay right where you are, and put your hands on
your head.”
Olivia looked
to the door where two men were standing, wearing blue overalls and heavy
boots. One of them had one of their
knives in the kitchen in his hands, as the other took her mother by the arm and
walked her back in.
“Don’t
panic,” he said as he looked at Olivia, “we just need a change of clothes and
somewhere to lie low until dark. So long
as you do as we say, you won’t get harmed.”
“We need to
make sure they can’t tell anyone we’re here though?”
“Aye, I was
getting to that – what’s your name lass?”
“Ooooo Olivia.”
“Well, Ooooo Olivia, I want you to tell me if you have any rope in
the house.”
“Not
really – why?”
“Never mind,”
he said as he reached into his pocket, and took out a roll of twine. “Put your hands together in front of you.”
“Not a word,
mummy,” the other man said as Hilda watched the man wrap the twine tightly
around her daughter’s wrists, binding them tightly together before resting them
on her lap and taking the twine down and using it to tie her ankles together.
“Give me the
knife a minute,” he said, taking the kitchen knife from the other man and
cutting the twine above the knot, before he looked at Hilda. “You as well,” he eventually said, “sit down
and put your hands in front of yourself.”
Ten minutes
later, Hilda was watching with Olivia, her wrests and ankles tied with the thin
twine as their captor said “go and search the garage and things – see if you
can find anything.”
“Who are you
anyway,” Hilda said as she stared at the young man.
“Escaped from
the local youth prison to answer your question- like I said, we just need a
place to lie low for a few hours.”
“Well you can’t
stay here!”
“Why not,”
the young man said as he looked at Olivia.
“Three of my
friends from the St Monica’s Youth Group are coming round tonight – you can’t
hold all of us hostage.”
“Oh can’t
we,” the young man said with a smile as his friend came back in.
“Got
some rope and some other things.”
“Good – it
seems we ‘re going to have other company – so keep mummy quiet while I tell her
lovely daughter what she’s going to do...”
Patience
Smyth-Wright was about as unlike her given name as anyone could be. She had the same unflappable self-confidence
as her father, and the same spirit as her mother, so as she walked up the
garden path to the Shakespeare house she knew her spirit would win over
everything.
She had her
own sense of dress style as well, choosing today to wear tight beige jodhpurs
with knee length black boots, zipped up the inside, and a large Aztec print
blouse that was longer at the sides than at the front and back, coming down
over the top of her boots at the lowest point.
Knocking on
the front door, she turned and looked along the road, her brown hair held back
in a ponytail, before turning round as Olivia opened the door.
“hey there,” she said as he came in, “got the coffee ready?”
“No,” Olivia
said quietly, “and I’m really really sorry Patience.
“Sorry
– sorry for what?”
“For our
presence,” the young man said as he came out, showing the kitchen knife. “Both of you, come
in here please.”
“What is
this,” Patience said as she went in, and saw Hilda sitting in the chair, the
silver tape covering her obviously stuffed mouth.
“Ah – ah, I
see. Nothing to apologise for Ol, I see you had no choice in the matter,” Patience said
as she felt her arms pulled behind her back, and then the rope rubbing on them
as they were secured together. “This happened
to mummy once at a church council meeting – remember I told you about it?”
“Yeah – but
this is us it’s happening to now,” Olivia said as Patience felt the rope go
between her arms, and then around her waist so that her hands were locked
against her.
“Still, chin
up and all that – we’ll find a way out of this,” Patience said as the man took
her arm and led her out of the room, up the stairs and into a bedroom, making
her sit on a bed before he knelt down and started to bind her ankles tightly
together, the ropes squeaking on the leather as her legs were forced together.
“So, big tall
and dangerous,” Patience said as he secured her legs together below her knees,
“what’s the plan here?”
“Just to keep
you quiet,” he said as he shoved a folded cloth into Patience’s mouth, and then
taped it over, wrapping the tape around her head and keeping her hair out of
the way, before he made her lie on her back and tied her arms together below
her elbows, and then bent her legs before securing her ankles to that rope.
Rolling onto her
side, Patience watched as he said “enjoy your quiet time” and walked out,
leaving the door open as she started to try and call for help – and then heard
the front door bell again.
“Hey Olivia,”
Claire Babcock said as she came in, “how’s tricks?” The young blonde was wearing a blue blouse,
with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, and a short white skirt, with brown
suede lace ups on her feet.
“I’ve been
better, Claire,” Olivia said as she closed the door.
“Oh dear –
you’re not feeling unwell are you?”
“No – she’s
just got some unexpected guests,” one of the two young men said as her stepped
out. “No screams, no panics – just hold
your hands out in front of you.”
“What’s going
on,” Claire said as she looked at her friend.
“They’ve
escaped from prison – Patience was taken upstairs by one of them a few minutes
ago, and mum’s tied up and gagged in the front room. We’re just going to have to do as they say,
or else...”
“Hey, hey,
it’s all right, I get it,” Claire said as the rope went around and between her
wrists, as she saw the second young man come down the stairs.
“Your turn –
come upstairs with me,” her binder said as they walked up, and Olivia was
escorted back into the front room. Claire
was taken into the master bedroom, and made to lie on the bed before her arms
were pulled above her head and secured to the head board.
“You’re not
going to hurt us, are you,” Claire then said as she watched the man cross and
start to bind her ankles together.
“Look, as we
keep saying, we just need a place to lay low for a few hours,” he said as he
tied the rope off, and then tied her legs together below her knees. “Now, don’t move.”
“Very funny,”
Claire said as she watched him go to the wardrobe, and take out a large blue
and gold silk square, smiling, as he rolled it into a band and tied a knot in
the middle of it.
“Is that
going to keep little old me quiet,” she said as he walked over.
“I think so –
open wide and we’ll try.”
Claire had to
stop herself from giggling as the silk knot rested on her tongue, raising her
head so that he could tie the band around her head, and then resting it on the
pillow.
“NdhwwrruggnnttnnnnnNNNNNNN,” she said as he gently tickled
the back of her knee.
“I think that
will do – enjoy yourself,” he said as he left the room, Claire wriggling on the
bed as she tried in vain to free herself.
“Please, can’t
you just leave me and go?”
“Nope,” the
young man said as he finished his sandwich, and then heard the knock on the
front door, “let her in.”
Sighing,
Olivia looked at her mother, who nodded slowly as she went to the front door,
and saw Gemma Jones standing there. She had her dark hair in a knot and pigtail
on her head, and had on a grey vest top, held up by spaghetti straps over her
shoulders, ethnic print pants in a brown material, and black sandals.
“Sorry I’m late
– traffic was hell,” she said as Olivia closed the door, “what have I – oh,
hello.”
“Hello,” the
young man said as he looked at Gemma.
“I’m sorry, Gemma, we’re all been held hostage until he and his friend
go.”
“HOSTAGE?
OH that is exciting,” Gemma said, Olivia
staring at her friend as she said “so we’re all going to be tied up and gagged,
things like that?”
“That’s
right,” the young man said as he held up a roll of black tape, “and you get to be
tied up by the hostess here. Tape her
wrists together behind her back, and then her arms to her side.”
“Gemma, have you gone completely loco,” Olivia whispered as
the man watched her take her friend’s wrists behind her back, and start to tape
them tightly together, “they’re holding us hostage!”
“I know, and
I haven’t,” Gemma said with a grin, “but I’ve always
wondered what this would feel like – and now I get to find out.”
Olivia merely
shook her head as she tore the tape loose and smoothed it down, before winding
it round her forearms and stomach, trapping them against her body as she did
so.
“Very good –
now, come in here,” the man said, Gemma looking at
Hilda as she came in and saying “Hello Mrs Shakespeare – I guess we’re all
caught up in this together now.”
“Don’t ask,”
Olivia said as the man made Gemma lie on the long
couch, and then she taped her ankles as well as her legs together, above and
below her knees.
“So I need to
be kept quiet, don’t I,” she said as she wriggled around, the man nodding as he
pushed a folded cloth into her mouth, and then made Olivia wrap the tape around
her friend’s head.
“Cnuuhfacshn,” she asked, the man nodding as Olivia raised
her head and placed a cushion underneath.
Gemma and Hilda watched as the second man came
in, and they placed a chair from the dining table opposite both of them, Olivia
sitting down as her wrists and arms were taped to the back of the chair.
“Can I ask
one favour,” she said as she looked at the two men.
“and that is?”
“If you’re
going to tape my legs to the chair, take my boots off first – that tape would
ruin them.”
“Fair
enough,” the men said as he and his friend unzipped and took Olivia’s boots
off, before they taped her legs to the front legs of the chair at her ankles
and below her knees.
As Olivia
looked at the window, she could see even with the curtains drawn that it was
getting darker.
“We’ll be on
our way soon,” the man said, “thank you for your hospitality.”
“Did we have
a choice?”
“No, you
didn’t,” he said, “and for that I’m sorry.
Now, please, open wide.”
Olivia felt
the cloth press down on her tongue as he eased the folded scarf in, and then
wrapped the silver tape round her head, keeping her hair out of the way before
the two young men left the house.
“Rullrrtlff,” Hilda said as she looked at her daughter. Hilda nodded as she looked at her mother and Gemma, who was wriggling round on the couch.
“Cnumfffmmm?”
“Elttleee – hh?”
“Whtchsnssugnngntswwngbks?”
Hilda looked
at her daughter for a moment, before she slid to the floor and started to try
to shuffle to where the wicker basket was - and the pair of scissors that
should be sitting at the top...
“Hoe
dreadful,” the Reverend Timmins said as he sat with Hilda and Olivia at the
church coffee morning, “we do seem to have our share of bad luck with these
felons, don’t we?”
“I suppose we
do,” Olivia said as she saw Patience with her parents.
“By the way,
I hear young Gemma has an idea for a fund raising
activity – an auction of promises?”
Olivia smiled
– that was not what Gemma had said to her. She’d called it a slave auction...
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