UNCONSECRATED GROUND

by Mark Woolridge

  ‘Oh,’ said Heather, ‘so my behaviour hasn’t scared you off.’

  ‘Not in the slightest.’ Vic giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘If I’ve any say in the matter, I’ll be sleeping here a lot.’

  All semblance of awkwardness left with that giggle; at least it did for Heather.

  ‘Oh yes?’ she pushed Vic onto her back and climbed fully aboard. ‘Would that be for gentle, equally shared lovemaking? Or do you secretly want to be overwhelmed again and again by an insatiable marsupial?’

  ‘I haven’t tried the gentle lovemaking yet. I’m sure we’ll get round to it at some stage. In the meantime, feel free to keep overwhelming me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will. And knickers to the grapevine; you feel free to break the habit of a lifetime and gossip away.’

  Vic suddenly seemed serious. ‘You honestly won’t mind if people find out we’re shagging?’

  ‘No. As I said in the pub, I’m not ashamed of me. And I’m certainly not ashamed of being in bed with you.’

  They had another lingering kiss, hands touring again. Heather finally broke off and moved so her mouth could get at Vic’s chest, smiling as she immediately made her nipples go bullet-like. Vic didn’t give her long before crying, ‘Enough!’ and dragging her off.

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said Heather. ‘Here I am, risking my career. About to become an airhead . . .’

  ‘No you are not. I’ve got a brand-new blouse in my travel bag, and a brand-new neckerchief. Five minutes under your shower and I’ll look like I’m freshly changed. No-one will ever know. Apart from us, of course, and we don’t have tell if we don’t want to.’

  ‘You do this regularly then?’

  ‘What? Pass the night being fucked senseless? No, I carry spares because I never know if I’m going to be sent somewhere overnight. I often have to rush off to London Bridge at the drop of a hat.’

  ‘Good answer.’

  ‘That’s because it’s true. I haven’t done anything like this for ages. In fact it was two years ago last June. And it was with a bloke, so it doesn’t count.’

  ‘So you do like men?’

  Vic shrugged, ‘From time to time.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ went Heather.

  ‘I do. I’ve just been avoiding them.’

  ‘For nearly two and a half years?’

  ‘Yes, Heather.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘Wow! I went two and a half months before Graham. By then even Tibbles was starting to look hunky. How’ve you done it? Have you had dozens of girls instead?’

  ‘No. I’ve had a few flings, but nothing nearly as wild and impulsive as this. Mostly I’ve stuck to one woman.’

  * * *

  Bundz and Deano were looking for someone to mug. Bundz wasn't too happy about this, but he wasn't too happy about having empty pockets either. Not when he'd been relatively loaded only a few hours ago. He nodded when Deano pointed towards their favourite park. Without speaking they crossed the road and went inside.

  High to low or what? For the last few days they'd been working: hard but clean graft in an old factory where nobody else could speak English. That had ended earlier today, when they'd been given a stack of cash and told to come back in a fortnight. Although their Polish gaffer wasn't admitting it, Bundz reckoned their departure had something to do with the DHSS. Half a dozen other guys had bitten the same unexpected bullet.

  Well, that had been dinnertime, hadn't it? Their wads hadn't survived an all-dayer in the pubs and bookies. And his crappy Jobseeker's wouldn't arrive until next Tuesday. Fuck knew when Deano's was due; not before then, anyhow.

  Robbing Government bastards.

  Away from the streetlights, heading into deep shadows, the two youths automatically walked lighter on their feet, dropping the sparse chatter altogether. This particular park might seem deserted so late at night, but people still used it as a shortcut. There was always a chance of relieving some knob of his wallet. Failing that, plenty of pros used it to do business. Not that they would rob a pro; that was too risky because they all had someone to fight their corner. And those bitches never forgot a face. They’d always get you in the end, even if their minder was a day or more away. No, the pros were too risky, but their satisfied punters were fair game, as long as you got them alone afterwards. And that was piss-easy because they were all heading for the hills before they started to zip back up.

  Fuck her then fuck off, the good old male instinct. Never failed. Pros were obliging at that end of the deal, too. They were as keen to be away as their customers were.

  Bundz was starting to think they were going to be unlucky when Deano grabbed his arm and hissed softly. He let himself be led off the path and around some bushes, expecting to witness paid sex. He didn't particularly like watching but Deano really enjoyed it. And watching, of course, put you in prime position to follow and attack.

  Bet Deano secretly tosses himself off.

  Like I probably will, later on . . .

  Bundz scowled through the darkness. There was a white shape lying on the grass. A four-year-old could have seen it was a woman, opened up to take a stiff dicking. But something was wrong. There was no noise. No slap of flesh or feigned female cries of delight. No frantically thrusting man on top, come to that.

  ‘Shit,' said Deano.

  He was gone before Bundz actually realized what he was looking at.

  * * *

  ‘One woman,’ Heather said slowly. ‘Your significant other?’

  ‘I suppose she was,’ Vic replied.

  ‘Am I aiding and abetting something here?’

  ‘No. She’s not in my life anymore. I’m quite unattached.’

  ‘Honest Injun?’

  ‘Yes, honest Injun.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Heather, relaxing a little. ‘Are you going to tell me about her?’

  ‘I don’t usually pour out my heart on a first date. Or ever, come to that.’

  ‘Go on. You know you want to.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell.’ Vic’s smile became wistful. ‘She’s called Karen. She was my neighbour in Headingley. We had a long, uneasy courtship after her husband took off. Then we finally got together. Then she left.’

  ‘Permanently?’

  ‘Yes, very permanently. Not to mention recently.’

  ‘I’m sorry it went wrong.’

  ‘Don’t be. It was basic instinct . . . as far as I was concerned, anyway. And the most basic bit wasn’t happening a lot. Karen blamed me. I was away at work too much. She wanted me there all the time or not at all. And she never admitted it, but she hated being known as The Lesbian at Number Nine. With me being The Lesbian at Number Seven, naturally.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘That’s all, really. She sold up and went back to her roots in Southampton. We promised we’d keep in touch, but we haven’t. And we know we won’t.’

  ‘So that’s it, you really are a free agent? No heartache or regrets?’

  ‘I regret dropping a couple of other lovers. I had a fairly good thing going until I got this crazy impulse to woo her.’

  Heather grinned. ‘Did she take some wooing?’

  ‘You bet she did.’

  ‘And you gave up two lovers to do it?’

  ‘Arguably three,’ said Vic. ‘I told you it was a crazy impulse.’

  ‘You’ll fit in well with me then. I’m good at crazy impulses. I’m pretty useless at long, uneasy courtships, though.’

  ‘I presume long, abstinent courtships are right out.’

  ‘It took half a day between us meeting and ending up here, in my bed. That’s long enough, isn’t it? Anyway, if you wanted abstinence, it’s too late.’

  ‘I didn’t want abstinence, which is just as well. Seeing what you’re like.’

  ‘What do you mean, what I’m like?’

  Vic just chuckled in reply.

  ‘Personal question,’ Heather said after a pause. ‘Tell me to mind my own business if you want.’
<
br />   ‘Go on.’

  ‘Did you quit men for Karen? Or had you already made the decision?’

  ‘No, that had nothing to do with Karen. I quit men every now and then. Always have done.’

  ‘Care to expound?’

  Vic looked up at her for a few seconds before answering.

  ‘Honest Injun?’

  ‘Yes, Vic. Honest Injun.’

  ‘Okay, here goes. I wasn’t too bad when I was at St Helena’s. I got plenty of offers from guys at St Joseph’s, the local boys’ school, but only took a few up. I didn’t start binging until uni.’

  ‘Binging on men?’

  ‘Yes. I was almost out of control while I was in halls. And I lost it altogether in the second year.’

  ‘You mean when you got your own place?’ Heather laughed. ‘Been there, got the wet T-shirt. Do you want to hear my excuse?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Sheer bad luck. Until I was thirteen nearly all my friends were boys. Then, literally days before I got properly interested, I was sent off to the Land of Girls. By the time I got to uni I’d nibbled far too many fannies. It was time to catch up.’

  ‘I don’t know about you.’ Vic pulled a face. ‘But I really was wild. At one stage I’d have a different guy every night, then wake up in the morning hating myself.’

  ‘Don’t get me going on that old chestnut. Nearly every man on the planet’s a bigger tart than the tartiest woman.’

  ‘It wasn’t me being a tart. It was me being reckless. Never mind the risk of STDs or AIDS. Sometimes I wouldn’t remember the latest guy’s name. Sometimes I never even asked.’

  ‘Before or after?’

  ‘Both. God knows how I never got beaten up or murdered.’

  ‘Did something bad happen?’

  ‘No,’ said Vic. ‘I never even got shouted at, never mind punched or slapped. It was only my self-esteem that suffered.’

  ‘In that case your judgment must have been sound.’

  ‘My judgment never came into it. I’d just get the urge and grab the nearest erection.’

  ‘That’s Jiminy Cricket speaking,’ Heather said sagely. ‘Your intuition would have made its assessment before you grabbed anything. Subconsciously, I mean.’

  ‘I probably don’t have the same faith in my intuition that you have.’

  ‘Mr Carmichael seems to admire your abilities.’

  ‘That’s work-related,’ Vic said. ‘It’s totally different.’

  ‘No it isn’t. Not on a subconscious level.’

  ‘Well whatever it was, it scared me. I knew I couldn’t carry on behaving like that.’

  ‘So you went for celibacy?’

  ‘I did as far as men were concerned. That first time I managed three months. Then I had a steady boyfriend for a while. Then he betrayed me and I really was celibate for six months. Then I had another boyfriend and . . . well, you can see the pattern developing.’

  ‘This latest celibacy is up to two and a half years?’

  ‘Almost. It’s my longest yet.’

  ‘How close are you to your next relapse?’

  ‘Not very. I’m not even looking at men at the moment, never mind planning a relapse.’

  ‘I’ve heard this sort of thing before, Vic. It ties in with my bisexual theory, but I won’t bore you with that. Not on a first date.’

  ‘Did something bad ever happen to you?’

  Heather blinked at the unexpected question. She’d been enjoying her role as confessor-cum- inquisitor. ‘No,’ she said. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘You said you went a few months without a man. Was that yet another exaggeration, or was there a reason?’

  ‘I’ve told you a million times; I never exaggerate.’

  ‘So there was a reason?’

  ‘Not the sort you’re imagining.’ Heather pecked Vic on the nose. ‘I’ve always liked men per se. One or two individuals have annoyed me immensely, but that’s only to be expected. I’ve never had a phobia about them.’

  ‘They don’t physically intimidate you?’

  ‘Ha! I can hold my own.’

  ‘In all other ways, maybe . . .’

  ‘Physically too. Okay, I’d need a prop if you wanted me to give you an authentic, realistic manly shagging, but I can do everything else unaided, and better than any bloke. Plus plenty of things no bloke could ever do.’

  ‘But could you fight one off?’

  ‘Yes I could. I’ve done all sorts of self-defence. If a man ever attacked me I’d scare him away long before it came to an actual fight. And that would be good news for him, believe me. I guarantee he wouldn’t like an actual fight.’

  ‘Perhaps theoretically,’ said Vic, obviously not convinced. ‘But women freeze when faced with violence.’

  ‘That’s a subject we discussed a lot. Some girls doubted themselves, but I never did. There again, I faced off Brutus, so I know I’ll never freeze.’

  ‘Brutus? Who on earth is Brutus?’

  ‘He was my dad’s prize bull. Back when we were at Hunters Farm.’

  ‘I sense a story coming on.’ Vic had a whole fit of giggles this time. ‘Hopefully it’s not one full of bullshit.’

  ‘It’s a true story,’ Heather protested. ‘No exaggerating at all.’

  ‘Is this instead of confessing your binging history?’

  ‘My binging history is probably very similar to yours, so I’d hardly be telling you anything new. But I’m prepared to bet you don’t have many escaped bulls on your résumé.’

  ‘You are correct. Please proceed.’

  * * *

  Bundz was stunned. Visibility here in the middle of the park was shit but, as he approached the white shape, he could see who it was . . . and what had happened to her.

  ‘The Mechanic,' he murmured, staring at the obscenity stuck between her legs.

  Then he almost screamed as a hand landed on his shoulder.

  ‘Come on,' said Deano, 'we have to get out of here.'

  ‘It's her,' Bundz said tersely.

  ‘Her?’

  ‘The Mechanic.'

  ‘Sorry mate, I'm not with you.'

  ‘She was at my school. Two or three years older. Dunno her name. We called her Mechanic, because just looking at her tightens your nuts.'

  ‘She's not doing anything for me right now.' Deano laughed nervously. 'Look mate, we need to be away. They'll blame us. You know what they're like.'

  Bundz knew but for once didn't care. The Mechanic was the fittest bird he'd ever seen, bar none. And posh with it. He'd almost died when he'd seen her on a pitch, selling her favours right and left. If he'd ever managed to keep two tenners together he'd have had a go himself. Seeing her now, like this . . . well, it was an outrage.

  ‘I'm calling the Filth,' he said.

  ‘You're joking.'

  ‘Am I fuck. She might be alive.'

  ‘Mate, that is one dead prostitute.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Bundz, pulling out his battered pay-as-you-go, ‘but we can’t just leave her.’

  ‘Why not? Someone else will be along sooner or later. Walking a dog or summat.’

  Too late; Bundz was already dialling.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘Okay,’ Heather began. ‘Brutus was the only bull on the farm. And he was a whopper, well over a ton. He looked magnificent but had an awful temper, even for a bull. He was famous for it. Just about everyone was afraid of him. There was no need to put a notice up in his field. Whether you’d been told about him or not, one glance was enough.’

  She chuckled. ‘My dad wasn’t afraid of him, because he was the farmer. And some of the local kids saw him as a challenge. The big dare was to run across the corner of his field, covering as big a diagonal as possible. We put chalk marks on the wall to show the best efforts.’

  ‘We?’ said Vic. ‘Does that mean you were involved in such a rash, foolhardy challenge?’

  ‘Of course I was. I invented it. And I always had to beat anyone who broke the rec
ord. Which I hold to this day, incidentally.’

  ‘Did Brutus ever get you?’

  ‘No, but I had a couple of near misses. And he helped some of the other kids over the wall with his horns.’

  ‘He does sound bad tempered.’

  ‘He was. And I could never work out why. I was only a slip of a lass, but I could see he had it good. No real work to do, just a few dozen cows to take care of. The way I saw it, he was like a sultan with an enormous harem.’

  ‘How old are you in this tale?’

  ‘Eleven and three-quarters.’

  ‘Still innocent, then.’

  ‘Still three years of virginity left,’ Heather agreed. ‘Anyway, it happened one Monday, during the summer holidays. I’d been up on the moors, rabbiting . . .’

  ‘Rabbiting?’

  ‘Shooting rabbits. For the pot, I mean . . . not because I was sadistic or anything. I only took what we needed.’

  ‘Ye gods, girl,’ Vic rolled her eyes, ‘is there no end to your surprises?’

  ‘I can usually produce something when the occasion demands. Anyhow, I was on my way home when I saw the gate was open and Brutus was gone. I knew he couldn’t be with Dad because it was market day. And nobody else could do anything with Brutus. When I got closer I realized what had happened. The farm lads had been in to feed him and hadn’t shut up properly behind them.’

  ‘Couldn’t it have been the local kids fooling around?’

  ‘No. They wouldn’t do that. Besides, Brutus knew them and had a grudge. They couldn’t have opened the gate and got away fast enough.’

  ‘Okay. Please continue.’

  ‘I ran back to the farmhouse to find out they already knew. Mum had had a phone call to say Brutus was stampeding through the village. She was busy berating the farm lads. There were only two of them and they were blaming each other. Mum had obviously heard enough. She told the three of us to go fetch Brutus while she skinned my rabbits.’ Heather laughed. ‘Mum always has been unflappable.

  ‘Well, it was quite an adventure at first. We went down the hill . . .’ she broke off. ‘Do you know Micklethwaite?’

  ‘I know where it is on a map,’ said Vic, ‘but I’ve never been.’

  ‘It’s like a long, uphill lane, with farms grouped at both ends and a village in the middle. And with lots of new houses going up these days. Back then there weren’t so many. Our farm was up the steepest bit of hill. When we got to the hairpin bend we could see a police car blocking the road below us. That was when it started feeling more like an emergency.’