In Their Own Words: Vintage Tales
This week, on In Their Own Words, we
talk to some people who recall events that happened over fifty or sixty years
ago. Our first tale takes us back to
small town America in 1960, as Debs talks about what happens when she was a
young homemaker…
I had been
married for three months, and was finally getting the home as I wanted it for
my husband and me, so I was feeling proud of myself for the moment. That particular day I was wearing a mustard yellow
short sleeved blouse and pleated skirt, with natural hose and white shows with
black tips. I had my hair cut in a
wonderful style, and that day I remember I was wearing a brooch my husband had
got me as a memorial of his current posting with the USAF.
I was sitting
on my seat, looking through a copy of From Here To Eternity, when I heard a
noise and footsteps coming through from my kitchen. I looked up, to see a man standing in the
doorway, dressed in a blue suit, white shirt and dark tie, wearing a hat,
shoes, gloves, dark glasses – and the gun in his hand as he told me not to
scream, but to sit exactly where I was.
I was shocked,
so I did what he said as he looked round the room, and then told me to lie face
down on the couch. I slowly did as he asked,
turning my head and watching as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and
drew out a length of twine. He smiled as
he knelt beside me, and crossed my wrists behind my back, using the thin rope
to secure them together.
He stood up and
walked to the end of the couch, crossing and tying my ankles together with a
second length of twine. It cut a little
into my wrists and ankles if I moved round, so I lay still and watched as he
opened my bureau and looked through it, then went up the stairs.
When he came
back, he had a yellow scarf which he was folding into a pad, and he told me to
open my mouth. I felt I had no choice,
so I opened my mouth and let him push it in, closing my lips over the silk
cloth as I realised he would not let me push that out.
“I’m trusting
you.”
It was the way
he said it that made it clear I was not to try to do that, as he picked up a
bag he had brought down. I could hear
the clinking, so I knew I would be replacing some jewellery, as he walked out
of the house, and I lay there, wondering how long it would be before someone
came to rescue me.
As it was, it
was when my husband came home…
When Cathy Gale first appeared on the
Avengers, the fashion for wearing leather clothing in certain groups took off,
but it was still a few groups only.
Mandy was twenty at the time, and remembers when she first wore a
leather dress – and what happened after…
I had been
invited to go to the Talk of the Town by my then boyfriend, and I had just
bought the perfect dress for the occasion.
It was a pinafore dress, made of soft black leather, which hugged my
body and came down to my knees. My
Italian shoes were made from black and white leather, the watch a gold Cartier
one, the bracelet gold as well, and a gold clasp held my brown hair up.
It was a
wonderful dinner, and a great show, and a swell time afterwards, so that it was
about three in the morning when I finally went into my flat in Knightsbridge –
only to be confronted by a man dressed in black, with a balaclava over his
head.
I turned to
raise the alarm – but he was quicker, as he grabbed ne and put a gloved hand
over my mouth, then dragged me into the front room and made me sit on an old
wooden armchair.
He warned me to
be quiet as he took his hand away – and before I had a chance to scream, he
stuck some silver tape over my mouth. Several
strips, covering my lips and my jaw, before he grabbed my wrist and put it down
on the arm of the chair, taping it tightly down as well as my arm at the elbow.
He walked
quickly round and taped my other arm to the opposite arm rest, then knelt in
front of me and taped my ankles together, then my legs below my knees. Ten minutes – it took ten minutes, and I was
unable to move, unable to speak, unable to stop him taking my things as I twisted
round. The only sounds were my muffled
calls, the crinkle of the tape – and the creak of my leather dress as I felt
myself starting to sweat…
The thing is, I
lived alone then – so it was the next morning before a work friend, concerned I
had not come in, came and found me in the chair, sleeping, sweaty, and somewhat
dishevelled…
Mandy was at least still dressed –
Joanna remembers one day in 1966, when she was not as well attired…
It must have
been about seven in the morning – my flatmate had already left for work, and I
had just come in from the bathroom, wearing a dressing gown and a towelling
turban over my dark hair.
So I wasn’t
exactly paying attention to my surroundings, as I slipped the robe off and then
the turban, before I put on the yellow slip, making sure the built in cups
supported my chest as I looked round in the mirror.
That was when I
saw him – and that was when he grabbed me from behind and pressed something
over my mouth before I had a chance to say or call or scream or anything. I had no idea what to was, but it was
stopping me even moving my lips, pulling on the skin around my lips.
It was only
when the intruder took his hand away that I saw the brown material covering my
mouth and lips – sticking plaster. I had
seen it used on television programs and films, but it was the strangest feeling
to actually have it pressed over my own mouth, as I was walked backwards to my
bed and pushed onto my back. He took
hold of my wrists, and slipped a loop of rope over them, before he pulled it
tight and forced them together. He then
pulled it above my head, raising my arms before he tied the other end to the
headboard as I looked up and mutely watched.
He then walked
back down as I looked at him – grey jumper and slacks, grey gloves, stocking over
his head – before he put my ankles together and slipped another loop of rope
over them. I grimaced slightly as the
rope rubbed on my ankles, and then realised it was my ankles rubbing together
under the rope as he wound it round and between them, and then tied the ends to
the foot of the bed.
I squirmed
round, afraid of what might be about to happen, as he looked at me – and then
he went through my drawers, before he left me tied to the bed, unable to call
for help, unable to do more than squirm round and pray my flatmate may find an
excuse to come home early.
Which is why I
was so glad she forgot her purse…
Billie Jean and her mother used to make
their own clothes – and then one day they had some visitors…
I remember it
was a Saturday afternoon, and Mom and I were in our workroom, wearing our
aprons over our clothes. I was wearing a
grey top, a blue tartan skirt, white socks and black MJ shoes, while Mom had on
a light blue cardigan and knee length dark blue skirt, with grey and white
bowling shoes. We were both at dummies,
me working on a white dress with butterflies printed on it and a mock apron,
Mom on an electric blue evening gown.
Anyway – Mom
said we should take a break, so we went through into the kitchen as she put the
kettle on, and poured me a glass of milk – which I was very grateful for. As she put some coffee grounds into the
flask, I heard a knock on the front door, and went to see who it was.
I wasn’t
expecting what happened next – nor was Mom as I walked back in, my hands raised
in the air as two men followed me in. They
were wearing blue denim jackets and trousers, and one of them was pointing a
knife against my back. Mom looked at
them, and asked what was going on – and then I felt the hand on my shoulder,
and she saw the knife, gasping as she said not to hurt me.
The second man
left us as we were both told to sit in the chairs, our hands palm down on our
heads. I could see the fear in her face,
the way the colour drained out, as her eyes followed the man holding the knife
as he stood and looked at us. I asked
who he was, but he didn’t reply – we later learned they were escaped prisoners
but at that time we didn’t know that.
The second man
came back in with some spools of ribbon, and told me to put my hands together
in prayer. Well, I did as he asked, and
he used some red ribbon to tie my wrists together – very tightly. He then put my hands down on my lap and wound
the ribbon round the seat, so that my wrists were held down and I could not
move.
He then told me
to put my ankles together, and he used more of the red ribbon to secure them
together, before he took them to the side and tied them to the chair leg. At the same time, the other man put the knife
down, and took the roll of blue ribbon, using it to tie Mom’s wrist to the
chair back and then wound it round her waist before he secured the other wrist
in place on the other side.
I tried to
move, and I could wriggle on the seat, but that was all – and as the second man
used the blue ribbon to tie Mom’s ankles to the legs of the chair. He then sat down as the man who had tied me
to the chair went to the coffee pot, poured two cups out and handed one to his
partner.
We had to sit
there while they made a sandwich and ate it, too scared to even speak, before
the man picked up a clean rag and told Mom to open her mouth, stuffing it in as
his partner left the room again. She grunted
and then looked at me, the edges of the cloth sticking out between her lips as
he picked up a second one, and walked towards me.
It was the
strangest feeling – the cloth on my tongue, rough but clean, filling my mouth
and making it difficult to say anything.
I could feel it getting wetter as it started to soak up the saliva, but
I was too scared to even think about spitting it out, and the way they looked
at us made it clear we should not anyway.
When his
partner came back, he had changed into some of my older brother’s clothes – he
was at college, and kept some clothes at home for when he came back for
lunch. The older man then left,
returning a little while later in some of Pop’s clothes, and then they both
left us there, starting to struggle and raise the alarm…
Claudette was a young continuity
assistant at a studio, and had been sent to the home of an actress with a
script – only to walk in on a robbery…
When I drove up
to the cottage in my Mini, I was just glad to get out of Pinewood for an hour –
the wardrobe mistress was on the warpath, and I did not relish the prospect of
facing her in full fury.
I was wearing a
short sleeved black dress with a white underskirt, and black heels, but as I
turned the engine off and looked at the thatched cottage I realised this was someone
different. Anouska Bream was staying
there while she was filming for The Saint, and a couple of films after that,
and the envelope on the passenger seat was the revised script for one of those
films.
I got out and
opened the garden gate, not noticing the sports car in the driveway as I walked
up and knocked on the door. There was no
answer, but I had been assured that Anouska was at home, so I opened the door
and called out “Miss Bream? I have the
script for the film you were waiting for.”
I could hear
some noise in the main room, so I walked in – and there was Anouska Bream,
reclining on a lounger, wearing a designer black collarless jacket and pants,
with a white blouse underneath, and black leather short boots.
Actually,
reclining wasn’t quite the right description – she was lying on her side, and
her arms were behind her back, but that wasn’t the strangest things about
her. Nor were the bands of white rope
that held her arms to her sides, and her legs together at the ankles and knees.
Nope – the most
strange thing was the knotted white scarf which was tied round her head, the
knot between her lips and visibly darker than the rest of the band. It was her muffled calls I had heard, and as
I dropped the envelope on the floor I walked into the room, seeing her as she
shook her head and tried to say something.
Of course, I
later realised what shew as trying to say was “get out,” but – at any rate, I
had taken two steps in when a male voice told me to very slowly, put my hands
behind my back.
I saw the look
of exasperation on Anouska’s face as I complied, and I felt some sort of rope
being passed round my wrists and forcing them together. Whoever it was knew what they were doing, as
they took the rope around and between my arms, and then tied the ends off out of
reach of my fingers.
I then saw the
sleeves of a black jumper as more rope was passed round me, securing my arms to
my sides so that all I could do was wriggle round. I could see Anouska was angry, but with me or
with whoever was trussing me like last Sunday’s roast.
I felt him tug
the ropes one more time, and then he told me to sit in a large armchair. That’s when I got my first look at him,
dressed in black with a mask over his eyes.
He was tall, broad shouldered, and knew what he was doing as he knelt
down and put my foot on his leg, then tied my ankles tightly together, followed
by my legs below my knees.
I twisted my
legs round, my shoes falling off my feet, as he rolled up a black scarf and
tied a knot in it, walking towards me as I realised I was going to be kept
quiet as well. I opened my mouth, tasting
the perfume on the scarf as he pulled the knot between my lips and tied the
band tightly round my head, leaving me there with Anouska Bream as he made his
way out, I presumed with her jewellery.
It took me an
hour it get my hands free, and to raise the alarm…
Finally this week, a night at the opera
turns into a night in restraint…
It was a couple
of days before Christmas, and my husband had secured tickets to see The Barber
of Seville at the theatre, so we naturally dressed for the occasion. My husband was in a smart suit, shirt and
tie, while I was wearing a black evening dress with no sleeves, short gloves
and black heels, a silver tiara in my hair.
It was an
amazing performance, and as we drove back to our house we laughed and talked about
it – having no idea what was waiting for us at home.
Because as we
walked into our house, and my husband turned the light on, we were confronted
by three people – two men and a woman – wearing dark clothing and with stockings
pulled down over their heads. The woman
had a gun in her gloved hand, as one of the men put his gloved hand over my
mouth, and the second one told my husband to do exactly what they said, and if he
did, I would not be hurt.
He slowly
nodded as we were forced to walk into the front room, where a chair from the dining
table had been put in the middle of the floor on a rug. The man holding me walked me over to it, as
my husband was forced to stand with his hands on his head.
I could also
see a lot of rope on one side, one of which the woman picked up as she told me
to put my arms around the chair back. I
was told to sit down and say nothing, as my arms were pulled round the chair
and I felt the woman start to bind my wrists tightly together.
I was glad I
had the short gloves on, as they gave my wrists some protection from the rope
rubbing on my skin – but this woman was obviously practised, as five minutes
later all I could do was wriggle my fingers as she tied them to the chair
back. She then walked in front foe m
with another length of rope, and secured my ankles together, the rope going
around and between my legs before she took them to the side and tied them to
the front leg of the chair.
The two men
then took my husband out with them, as the woman sat down and looked at me with
the gun on her lap.
And do you know
who we spent the next few hours? We
talked – about music, television, books, all sorts of things. It was easily the most unusual, yet
informative discussion I had held for some considerable time.
It must have
been about three in the morning when she went to answer the phone, and I
watched her take a call, then pull the wire from the wall before she came back
in. She then used more rope to tie my
legs together below my knees, and around my upper body to keep me in the chair,
before she rolled up a black scarf and cleave gagged me with it, and left.
It was a few
more hours before the police came – the men had forced my husband to open his
store and robbed it…
That’s all for this week – join us again
soon.
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