by Susan Thomas
Since I was used to microwaving a packet of instant porridge, I had to ask her how to make the stuff, but she was very good natured and told me. I got organised and got everything ready while constantly dashing back to the range to stir the porridge. The pans were simply made things and really heavy... no non-stick surfaces either. When Bill finally came back in, his face red from the cold, I was ready.
He smiled one of his gentle smiles. "What's this then?"
"I'm getting your breakfast." I was proud of my efforts given how very different everything was.
He came right over and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I did my badly written romantic heroine bit by sighing with pleasure. I gave him the porridge and the jam and he got stuck in. I didn't want porridge because I was going to try the bacon and eggs. That bacon smelt really great. While he was shovelling an enormous bowl of porridge I began frying the bacon and eggs. It was utterly different to doing it in my flat. The big chunky frying pan needed a load of grease in it to prevent sticking and there was no cooking oil. I made tea with the loose leaves. Incidentally the tea was clearly very precious and I guessed that normal trade wasn't what it used to be.
The bacon was simply wonderful, tasting better than any other I'd ever eaten. When we'd finished I poured more tea from the pot through a strainer (another huge difference) and Bill pulled the loaf of bread over. That was my next shock. I'd not looked at the butter in the butter dish but it was practically white.
"What's this?"
Bill laughed. "Goat's butter. Comes out quite white looking because goat's milk is much lighter than cow's. You'll like it though."
I did too it was lovely... light, fresh and really nice. After breakfast we began to talk and that's when I got yet another shock... much bigger than white looking butter.
"It's best if we see Rev. Phillips today."
"Why?"
"To arrange the wedding. Best do it soon."
I was bewildered. "Whose wedding?"
"Ours of course."
"Ours?! Married! Who says we are getting married?"
He smiled that particular smile of his that showed he didn't think I understood the situation. "Well Sarah, we made love. Lizzy knows that, I'm sure, but everyone else will think it since I did nothing about finding you anywhere else to stay."
"So what?"
"In Matthew chapter nineteen Jesus says that a couple married are no longer two but one flesh. So the belief is, making love makes you one flesh and therefore married."
"And you believe that?"
"Let's put it this way... I go along with it. Besides, I may have given you a child."
That made me go still. It dawned on me I had no memory of taking my pill on the day I set off on my mad drive. Certainly I had not taken a pill after I woke up in the snow when I was rescued. Furthermore I had no pills with me. Missing two pills was bad enough but I couldn't take any more. It was a sobering thought that I might actually be pregnant.
I spoke slowly. "Bill, I don't really want to marry a man who feels he has to marry me."
He looked at me with such longing it had such a lovely effect on me. "I want to marry you Sarah. I can't think of anything I want more."
"You hardly know me."
"I knew you were made for me the moment you stepped over that barrier." He said it so softly and at the same time he took my hands and held them in his large ones. "You feel that about me too. I can see it in your eyes and the way you look at me."
He was right of course, and he knew it, but I had to argue. "Suppose I say no?"
I knew he was humouring me. "Let me think now. Well, there are no places open to a single woman around here, especially not a transferee. A man maybe. Master Cartwright would have to send you to Lancaster."
"To be exiled?"
"No, not at all. They'd find a place for you possibly even in administration. It would depend on your abilities. They'd only exile you if you were thought to be a threat." His voice took on a teasing tone, "So I'll tell Master Cartwright you don't want to stay here with me shall I?"
"People don't get married after just one day Bill. I've never heard the like of it."
"Why not? The universe clearly wants us together. We are made for one another. You know it. I know it. Life's too short, and too fragile, to waste time."
My mind was racing. It was true I felt something for Bill that I had never experienced before. It wasn't just lust or passion, although that was in it, there was something much deeper and stronger. It was love. Besides that, what else was I to do? I had no money, no place in this society, I was a refugee from another world. On top of all that it wasn't unbelievable that I was pregnant. Does that sound cold? It wasn't like that. If I hadn't loved Bill, I'd have chosen the Lancaster route although it was a huge unknown.
I didn't agree immediately although in my head the decision was already made. I wanted to know how long since his wife had passed. It was sad. Like many couples in this society they had married young and moved to this farm which belonged to his grandfather. She'd only been nineteen when she died in childbirth and he only a year older. He was thirty three now and had been alone all that time, rejecting many opportunities to remarry. Finally, I agreed and he embraced me. I am only of medium height and slim build so being held by Bill was like being hugged by a bear... I loved it.
Lizzy came bustling in and Bill announced, "Sarah and I are getting married."
She was pleased, giving Bill a kiss and hugging me tightly. "Our Rachel will make you a wedding dress. She's a wonder with her needles."
That afternoon we went to see the Rev Philips. We rode on that very uncomfortable tractor all the way, wrapped up against the cold. It was my first sight of anywhere other than the farm and a limited bit of countryside. Everywhere was clear evidence of a once bigger population. Crumbling houses and shops stripped of any useful building materials. Cars, all rusted wrecks, had been shoved together on any unused bit of land. Abandoned and overgrown factories, some with names I recognised, popped up from time to time. The 'town', when we got there, was clearly an old village now grown to be centre of the district. I was surprised by how I was treated. I had thought women would be treated as mere chattels or something like that. Not a bit of it. Everyone was terribly courteous. Men stood or took off their hats when I came into their presence. I saw doors being held open for other women although Bill did that for me. Men might be in charge, but clearly women weren't treated badly, just very differently to my world.
Reverend Phillips was a quiet academic-looking man with a lean body and long lean face. "My dear Miss Watson," he said after introductions, "I do congratulate you. William is a fine man and one all the unmarried ladies have been after for some time."
We arranged the wedding to be in three weeks and left to make other arrangements. Honeymoons were a luxury that did not seem to exist any more. Locally, people had a reception at the Friendly Dragon Inn and the honeymoon couple stayed the night in the largest bedroom. Frequently the celebrations continued while the couple got down to business in the room's large bed. Bill arranged for our reception and a night in the Inn. He took me and introduced me to some people and then we went back to the farm.
Goats were a big part of Bill's farm, providing milk, butter, cheese and yoghurt. I was fascinated by the whole process and although I have never been an animal lover I quickly took to the goats. They are quite delightful and I love the sound of their bleating... quite different to sheep. Normally they'd be out in pasture but it was a hard winter and they were in the sheds for protection. I was also interested in the business part and at a glance could see ways Bill could do better without compromising any of his farming. His account books were also poorly managed. I decided I would sort that out for him later.
I was determined that if I was going to be stuck in this world, I'd best apply my brain to being good at it, and not being a misery about what I missed. The range cooker was my first problem. If I was to cook on it I had to master it. There were two ovens and
managing the heat to them was by a mixture of little sliders and tiny doors... it was an art all by itself. I soon worked out that a very hot oven required more sliders open than a low temperature, but it wasn't exact.
It was a recipe Lizzy gave me that got me into trouble. It was what she called a hotpot and involved layering goat's meat with potatoes and onion with some of the rich ale that Bill liked. I didn't get the sliders and doors right on the oven. Later Lizzy told me I should have put it in the bread oven, built into the chimney breast, for a long slow cook but I didn't know and, blow me, I found it was burnt nearly dry.
My reaction was one of irritation. "Oh bugger it. Bugger. Bugger it to hell and back."
At that moment Bill came in. Well it's always the way isn't it. We weren't actually married but that didn't stop him acting as if we were.
"Sarah that will do. Foul language may have been acceptable in your world but not here. Go to my office and we will discuss it in private."
I had a nasty feeling I knew what 'discuss' meant. "Bill, I don't have time right now for chatting. I'm trying to get a meal ready."
He was very quiet but it was in a tone of voice that allowed no argument. "Sarah Watson, I expect you to do as you're told. Do not make me come and get you."
I know a storm warning when I hear it and I walked to his office. I was very irritated by the situation. His office was quite a large room with papers everywhere (oh for a computer) a fireplace and a huge untidy desk. He sat on the desk and I had to stand in front of him like a naughty schoolchild.
"Sarah, foul language used in a public place can earn you a public spanking and you would not enjoy that at all. Additionally, I don't like foul language and it is not something that as your husband I will accept."
"You're not my husband... not yet."
"Sarah..." It was another, more urgent, storm warning but I was very irritated by my failure with the hotpot and having to account for a moment's swearing.
"Bill, I just swore to myself in the kitchen. Big deal! Where I come from nobody would give it a second thought. Back off and let me battle with that range."
Big man or not he moved very fast indeed. He was off that desk, had seized me and lifted me right off my feet and carried me over to a wall where a lone chair sat waiting. Down he sat and had me over his lap before I could struggle.
"Bill!" I screamed. "What are you doing?"
Yes, I knew what he was doing; of course I did. He was about to spank me, but you try adjusting to such a very different life, and see if you can manage something more profound when you are over a man's knee.
"This is a called a spanking. I am spanking you for both swearing and your very disrespectful attitude. You are not in your world any more, you are in mine, and because I love you I am going to correct you. It is for your own good Sarah. In this society we tolerate neither swearing nor a disrespectful woman."
As he began pulling up the skirt of my dress I desperately began to apologise. "I'm sorry Bill honestly. I promise it won't happen again. No swearing and no disrespect."
"No, it won't, but you're still getting spanked."
He was thorough I'll give him that. While I pleaded and apologised again and again he carefully undid my stockings, freeing them from the suspender belt, and carefully pulled down my knickers. As I felt the change of temperature on my bottom I began to struggle. There was a hard smack on my right cheek.
"Do you want me to get that hairbrush?"
"No, no, please don't."
"Then take your spanking like a good girl and learn from it."
I'd already been spanked twice on my first day, and wasn't keen to get another, but one thing I'd learnt was struggling against Bill's strength was futile. I tried pleading. "Bill, I am sorry. I was hot and irritated by that cooker. Please, let this one go, I'll do better next time I promise." You'll notice that there was nothing in my speech about my human rights or anything. It did no good.
"Take your spanking well Sarah and it will be quickly over."
In those few seconds before he started spanking, a strange thought crossed my mind. Had he sat on this very chair and spanked his first wife? When his hard hand smacked down on my poor bare bottom I stopped thinking about that. His hand felt so very hard and the sting was shocking. I cried out, but one hard smack would have been bearable; it wasn't one though, it was smack after hard smack, all landing on the bare skin of my bottom. The awful stinging heat builds so quickly and then there is the sheer humiliation. I'm an adult. I have a MBA. I've taken huge decisions in business and done so successfully. Yet in spite of all that, here I was, over the lap of a man I simply couldn't fight, my knickers pulled down and having my bottom spanked. I begged, I pleaded, I kicked my legs and I wailed but none of it did any good. Bill spanked me until I thought I'd never sit down comfortably again.
The humiliation of being spanked like that didn't end with the spanking. It carried right on with Bill pulling me up on his lap and cuddling and soothing me. Oh, I know, you can't see what is humiliating about that. Well, let me explain: me, the highly qualified high achiever, loved being cuddled and soothed. My bottom burnt as if on fire but Bill comforting me was lovely and I loved him. Furthermore, I apologised! No demanding he apologise for having spanked me. No, not a bit of it. I apologised that he had to do it!
I could hear my granddad's wry voice in my head, "Women! Just no accounting for 'em."
Chapter 5
The large room was sat the back of a warehouse, not purpose built, but what, before The Riving, had been a large shop. The original shop front, the glass long since disappeared, had been bricked in. The inside of the premises had been gutted, and was lined with crudely made wooden shelves, piled high with the goods required for life in the Theocracy. Several barred windows high up in the walls had been blacked out with thick material. Doors to the outside were locked and cracks covered to hide the light. This was a rare meeting of those in Lancaster who opposed the Theocracy. All were wearing a yellow sash. Normally, they would not have worn it at a meeting, but they had been especially told to bring it this time, and put it on when they arrived.
The atmosphere was of nervous excitement. Normally only the local resistance group would ever meet. Constantly fearful of discovery they plotted campaigns but just with others from the capital. Mostly they were related or old and trusted friends; any newcomer saw only masked faces until trust had been established. Today, the excitement was because they were going to meet none other than Mr Brown... the national leader of the resistance. The word was that Mr Brown felt it would be soon time to challenge the theocratic government. Many people were unhappy with the Theocracy and, although all were terrified of instability and conflict, the feeling had grown that a less rigid form of society could still remain peaceful.
Mr Brown was a slightly built man of middle height. He looked youthful, with kind eyes and brown hair that flopped down over his forehead; he had a way of sweeping it back with one hand that enhanced the impression of youth. He talked quickly, and with enthusiasm, and as he talked he created an excitement that it was hard to explain. Older people said he had charisma and an ability to make the complex seem simple. Younger people liked that he was young and said things that they felt deeply.
"Brothers and sisters..." His voice created an instant rapt attention. "... by the end of this year the Theocracy will be no more." There was a gasp at this bold statement. "All over the country the planning nears fruition. You must be ready to do your part. Are you ready, brothers and sisters?"
It was only January but 'by the end of the year' meant this year. So soon! They were entranced but Mr Brown must know. They knew that both the regular and religious police were worried by Mr Brown and had no idea who he really was. They chorused back with conviction, "Yes!"
"There will be no violence. We have sympathisers in every department of the Theocracy. Others have been bribed, they don't know why, to sedate hard-liners. By the time they awake we will be in power and we can bring change. Not instabil
ity, not fighting, not warfare... just change. Education... proper education for our young; not the religious fairy tales that are inflicted on them. No compulsion to attend church on Sunday. Of course, any who wish to do so are free to, but no more religious police demanding an account for your absence.
"You sisters - do you wish to wear more jewellery? You may. Do you wish to wear some make-up? Oh, I know you do in secret." There was laughter. "You brothers - do you wish to grow a moustache or beard. Perhaps, how daring of me to mention this, let your hair grow long...." Now there was deep male laughter with giggles from the women. The rule that men must be clean shaven, with short hair, was resented.
He had calculated his talk most carefully. It might sound extempore but it was far from that. He had worked on his speech, changing and correcting constantly. He had then rehearsed it over and over again in front of a mirror. Every little inclusive grin, every pause, every chuckle and even the times he would sweep back his hair, had been rehearsed. He was delivering this speech to little groups all over the country and it was going down very well indeed. He touched on all the silly irritations and his message was simple: we can rid ourselves of all these petty restrictions and still have stability.
"So, brothers and sisters, you must not shirk your part. Our movement needs you to do your bit. You will soon be given your role and when the call comes you must put on your yellow sash and take up your post. A major part of your job will be to reassure the population. We will have no violence; those that support the Theocracy, and I must tell you they are fewer than you might imagine, will find themselves without power. If they really cannot tolerate that we will have to exile them. However, I will not allow the cruel exile we have now. They will be equipped for life in their new version of earth."
A woman raised her hand. That a woman dared to do that was a mark of how differently the Yellow Sash was run. He stopped and graciously turned to her. "You have a question sister?"
"Mr Brown, sir, thank you for asking me. Will there still be the public punishments for us women? My poor sister was thrashed simply because the religious police deemed her skirt a little too short."
