The Bedsit Cat
Well hello
there, and welcome to the brave new world.
Take a seat, I’ll get some tea, and we can try and put the worries
post-referendum behind us. Perhaps we
can think of when life seemed a lot simpler.
Strangely,
that’s been in my mind a lot recently as the local student population moves
on. These days it’s all about flat
shares and house shares, but when I was starting out in my business the
equivalent would have been the bedsit – a house or flat share, but you only had
the one room, no shared facilities beyond the toilet.
And, if you
were really lucky, it was an inside toilet.
I actually
remember the first time I had to break into a bedsit. It wasn’t my intention to do so – I’d
actually intended to break into a house on the other side of the house at the
back, but a large Doberman meant a change of plans on my part, and so I forced
open the window of the house and climbed in.
One look told
me all I needed to know – especially the shocked look on the face of the
Afro-Caribbean girl who was looking at me.
She was in her mid-twenties, with short black hair, and was wearing a
black and white striped dress with elbow length sleeves. The dress came down past her knees, but I
could see the light blue tights she was wearing with the black cowboy boots,
and she had a large blue and black striped scarf tied like a lanyard round her
neck.
Her eyes were
wide behind her large glasses, and she would have screamed the place down if I
hadn’t pushed her onto the single bed and kept my hand over her mouth. I really did not like the idea of doing this
to anyone, but the last thing I needed was her raising the alarm.
I spoke
quietly and calmly, and when she had calmed down I apologised for the fact I
had broken in, and also for what I needed to do then. She had a ball of string on her table, so I
asked her to put her hands together, palm to palm, and tied her wrist before securing
them to her ankles. I then took the
scarf off from around her neck and used it as a cleave gag, before letting
myself out of her room and out of the house.
Bedsits in
those days were really the province of the student or the secretary – somewhere
cheap for them to live. Yeah, they were
often no better than damp little hovels, but they were a place to find the most
surprising of things.
Let me give
you one example – the daughter of Lord Birlstone was
an eighteen year old in 1976, living in a bedsit in Manchester. I had been asked if I would visit her, to
provide a distraction for a plan from another party, and given I was still
fairly young and inexperienced I agreed to do so as a favour.
Amelia had
white blonde hair cut in a bob, and on the day I was watching her walk to her
bedsit was wearing a long coat over a black sheer blouse with ruffed cuffs, a
white mini skirt and knee length black boots.
I followed her home, and as she walked in another of the tenants
appeared as well. She had shoulder
length brown hair, and was wearing a leopard style fur coat with her own knee
length boots.
So I waited
until she went in, and walked around to the back of the building. It was a three storey building, and I knew
young Birlstone lived on the second floor, so I
climbed up the drainpipe and looked in.
The room was empty at that point, so I used a knife to open the latch
and let myself in.
This
particular bedsit was a luxurious one – two rooms,
because I could see the door to the corridor with the Yale lock, and a second
door. So I closed the window behind
myself, and started to search through the drawers.
I should have
known that would be the cue for that interior door to open and someone to come
out – what I wasn’t expecting was young Birlstone and
the other woman, both wearing rather fetching white see through nighties, and very surprised to see me. So I did what any gentleman would – smiled,
apologised and said I’d have to make sure they didn’t raise the alarm.
I did promise
I would keep their secret in return, as I used some handy tape to secure their
wrist and ankles, and then cover their mouths.
It was especially cute the way they gently kissed as I took her
jewellery and left...
Now, over the
next couple of years I expanded my focus to houses as well, but from time to
time a visit to a bedsit was a good way to keep my skills sharp – because you
really have to be in and out quickly if you could help it.
You’ve heard
me talk of the Apartment Challenge as my American friends call it – hit all the
flats in a block in one night. Well,
that really started with the Bedsit challenge – and the tale that comes to mind
now happened when I was doing one of them.
This one was in Bermondsey – an old three level townhouse, each room
inside its own little living space.
When I did
this sort of thing, I started at the top and made my way down, so I’d already
covered the top floor and all bar one room on the second floor.
When I let
myself in, one look told me this was a woman’s room – and I don’t just mean the
posters of Donny Osmond and the row of boots on the wardrobe floor. I also took into account the gem boxes left
on the chest of drawers, as I started to empty them.
I was about
to leave when I heard someone putting a key into the door, so I stood behind
it, wondering what I was going to do next.
All I could do was keep myself as calm as possible, as the young woman
came in.
She was
trying to get that Annie Hall look, with a brick red corduroy jacket and long
skirt, with buttons up the front, a striped round necked sweater with a
matching scarf, a pale blue cloche hat and baggy boots, the leather a dusky
green.
As she closed
the door, and then saw me, I saw the crucifix hanging round her neck, and also
her copper red curly hair under the hat.
She stared at me for a few minutes, and then asked in a quiet voice what
I was going to do.
I could see
she was genuinely worried about what I was going to do, so I spoke calmly,
saying I was only after her jewels and would not hurt her. On the other hand, I did tell her that it
would be necessary for me to make sure she could not raise the alarm for a
while.
I could see
her thinking things over, and then she nodded in agreement as she took her hat
and jacket off. I had left the wardrobe
door open, and I took from there some leather belts and scarves. She allowed me to take her arms behind her
back and fold them so that her elbows rested in the cups of her hands, before I
used two small scarves t tie her wrists to her elbows. I then used one of the stretch belts around
her upper body to secure her arms to her sides, and asked her to sit down on
the bed.
She watched
as I used another belt to secure her ankles together, the leather squeaking as
she secured them together, and then her legs above her knees, this time the
corduroy squeaking as I did so. As the
final touch, I used her wool scarf as a gag, watching as she opened her mouth
and allowed me to use it as a cleave gag to keep her quiet.
I helped her
to lie down, and then made my way out, leaving her door partially open as I
left by the front door. The challenge
was over, and I needed to make my egress...
As I was
saying earlier, although the bedsit was really a one person creation, there
were a few occasions when I had to make sure two people did not raise the alarm
– and this tale has a later sequel which I want to tell you about as well. But first, we go back again to those times in
the mid-seventies, and the south of London – Collier’s Wood, which at the time
was a bedsit heaven.
This time I
let myself into a ground floor room, through the back yard, but it was only as
I closed the window to that I could see I was not alone. I was glad that on this occasion I had
brought a satchel with some ropes and other items, because it was fairly clear
I was going to need them.
The blonde
was asleep on the bed – in her early twenties, with long honey blonde hair, and
wearing a lime green long sleeved mini dress with a brown ruffed front, fishnet
stockings and white leather knee length boots.
I moved as silently as I could, opening the
wardrobe and looking carefully through, and finding in there a locked metal
box.
It was as I
took this out and laid it on the table that I heard her say “what the...” So I turned and quickly and put my hand over
her mouth, telling her to be quiet and I would not hurt her. She slowly nodded, and then lay still as I
tore a strip of brown sticking plaster over her mouth and pressed it over her
mouth.
Telling her
to turn over, I took a length of cord from my satchel and quickly bound her
wrists together behind her back, before I used a second length to tie her
ankles together. As she rolled onto her
side and watched me, I took some tools from my pocket and started to open the
metal box.
I didn’t get
far, however, before there was a knock on the door and a female voice asked if
the young lady was in. Well, she was
unable to answer, as she looked at me and I looked at her.
I hadn’t
checked to see of the door was locked.
Bad mistake – but I was young, and I had to think fast as the door
opened and another woman came in. Not
just any other woman however – it was the twin of the young lady who was
looking up at her on the bed. She was
wearing a red minidress, white tights and knee length
white PVC boots. As she came in, she
stopped and stared at her sister, not hearing me close the door or even
realising I was in the room.
That is,
until I put my hand over her mouth, reassured her that her sister was unharmed,
but that I would need to make sure she was just as incapable of raising the
alarm. I looked at her silenced twin,
who nodded as the girl I was holding nodded as well.
So I crossed
her wrists behind her back, and secured them together tightly but comfortably,
and then made her sit on the bed as her sister shuffled back. I then made eh rile on her back, and tied her
ankles together, before I taped over her mouth and left them watching as I
opened the box.
I was glad I
did as well – Krugerrands meant so much in those days
as well. As I kept looking round, I
could hear the twins trying to talk to each other, but not getting very far,
before I smiled and made my way out.
Now, the
reason that was interesting is because of what happened about five years
ago. I was at an antiques fair in the
south of London, and was surprised to hear a voice I did not recognise say
hello to me.
I turned
round to see a woman in her mid sixties looking at me, her blue eyes
sparkling. She had copper red hair
tinged with grey, and was wearing a white blouse with a tartan print skirt, and
a pair of red leather stretch boots. As
she smiled at me, I bade her a
good morning, and asked if we had met before.
She said she
had, and that I was responsible for possibly the most exciting she and her
sister had ever spent. Well, she still
had me at a disadvantage, but then her identically dressed twin sister came
over, and I remembered.
She quickly
reassured me she was not going to raise a fuss, but instead enquired if I was
free later that afternoon. Well, I had
no firm plans, so I asked if she wished to do a valuation or something.
Her reply was
or something, as she gave me their home address and
asked me to call at four. They now lived
in a little cottage, and as I was welcomed in we sat and drank tea.
And then they
asked if I would give them the same excitement as they had felt that afternoon
all those years ago. I asked if they
were sure, but they both nodded, so I asked if they had anything I could use.
Which is why,
a few minutes later, I was tying her wrists together behind her back while her
sister watched, her wrist already bound together. They were sitting side by side on a couch,
and tried to move their arms as I knelt in front of them, and used two lengths
of cord to bind their ankles.
They both
raised their legs and tried to move their ankles, giggling at the squeak of
leather, before I asked if that was sufficient for them. When they asked if I was staying a while, I agreed
to for their own safety, at which point they asked me to do a full professional
job.
Now, bearing
mind they were in their sixties, they still seemed to relax as I used rope to bind
their arms to their sides, taking the rope above and below their chests, and
then folded their skirts back to secure their legs below their knees.
They
complimented me on my work, and then smiled as I used some white medical tape
to cover their mouths, the shape of their lips visible underneath. I sat back and watched as they turned and
tried to talk to each other again, and then try to untie each other.
This went on
for an hour or two, before they both nodded and one of them tried to talk to
me. As I removed the tape, she thanked
me, and asked if I would leave them with their wrists tied in front of them,
but still tape gagged and with their legs tied.
Well, how
could I refuse? I released their arms
and then helped them to put their hands together I their laps, before re-securing
them. They nodded and tried to thank me
as I left them alone to enjoy their veining.
So sometimes
our past will teach us nice lessons – more tea?
Return to the Memoirs of the Cat index