by Ashe Barker
“In-breeding,” corrects Declan.
Iain frowns and at Declan. “How dare you insinuate such a thing about a perfectly respectable clinical researcher about to deliver a keynote speech. You absolutely should apologise to Eleanor.”
“Oh, no,” I interrupt. “Really, Fraze, there’s no need….”
They both turn their stares on me, the one dark and stormy grey, the other a deep, brilliant emerald. Gone is the banter in an instant.
“What…?” I begin. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You called me Fraze.” Iain’s tone is soft, deceptively so. “How did you know that name?”
“I don’t. I mean, it’s just, since your surname is Frazer, and—”
“I never told you that. I told you my name was Iain, and that he was Declan. No surnames.”
Caught out, I look from one to the other. Still I plough on. “I suppose Declan must have mentioned your full name…”
“No,” Declan says quietly. “I didn’t.”
“Do we know you, Eleanor?” Iain studies me, his scrutiny long and searching. “I admit I thought you seemed familiar, something in the voice, perhaps…”
Declan shakes his head. “Not the voice. It’s the eyes.” He narrows his own dark-chocolate eyes and peruses me with care. “We do know you…”
I try to look away, lower my gaze back to the laptop, but Iain reaches across to cup my chin in his palm.
“Yes, you’re right. The eyes…”
I know the moment realisation dawns.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “It’s Ellie. Little Ellie Scott.”
Declan twists in his seat to stare at me. In my peripheral vision I can see him nodding. “Ellie Scott, as I live and breathe…”
Well and truly outed, I can only squirm in my seat and try not to flush crimson. At the latter, I fail utterly.
“Why didn’t you say so? Why pretend not to know us? You obviously did recognise us, or you wouldn’t have let it slip and called me Fraze just now.”
“And what’s with the name nonsense?” puts in Declan. “Who the fuck is Eleanor Davidson?”
“Me,” I protest. “It…it’s my married name. And I was always Eleanor, it was just usually shortened to Ellie.”
“Married?” Declan repeats the word softly, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes. Briefly. I… I still use the name, though, professionally.”
“I see. And where’s Mr Dickinson now?”
“In New Zealand. Raising sheep with his new wife and four step-children.” I pause, then, “We…we wanted different things in life.”
“It certainly sounds like it,” agrees Declan. “Sheep, eh?”
“And four children?” adds Fraze.
I nod. “At the last count. It’s been five years since I heard from him, so by now…”
Declan tilts his head to one side, assessing my revelations. “You didn’t want kids, I assume?”
“Maybe. Eventually. But not fresh out of college when I’d just been offered a job in the Imperial College’s Faculty of Medicine. It was exactly what I’d been working towards, my dream. Jerome wasn’t prepared to wait, and I wasn’t ready to compromise. We were both young, and selfish, I suppose. We went our separate ways. It…it was a relief, actually.”
Iain leans back in his seat. “So, should we be calling you Eleanor or is it still Ellie to your friends?”
“Ellie will be fine,” I whisper.
“You still haven’t said why you didn’t tell us straight away. You recognised us, didn’t you? Right from the start?”
I nod.
“So,” prompts Iain. “Why pretend you didn’t?”
“B-because you didn’t remember me, and I felt humiliated. I’d have known you two anywhere, but you’d forgotten all about me.”
“No, we hadn’t. It’s just, you look…different.”
Declan agrees. “You wore glasses back then, and your hair wasn’t the same colour. And you weren’t nearly so tall.”
“Well, neither were you, but I still managed.”
Iain frowns. “Fair point. So you were intending to let us travel all the way to Scotland and never let on that we went to school together? Is that about the size of it?”
“You make it sound as if I planned this. I had no idea you were going to get on the same train as me. But I was upset, caught on the back foot, and I acted on impulse.”
“We didn’t mean to upset you.”
“But you did. You didn’t recognise me. I was hurt…and I suppose I wondered if you did it on purpose. To get back at me for…for…”
“On purpose?” Declan glowers at me. “Why would we do that?”
“Because of that exam. At school. I got you into trouble…”
They look at each other, clearly bemused.
Iain shrugs. “Sorry, but you’ll need to help us out here. What exam?”
“That time when I helped you to cheat.” I swing my gaze from one to the other. How could they have forgotten? It was huge, easily the worst thing that ever happened to me during my entire childhood.
“Ah, right. I remember now. Lawrence What’s-His-Face and the stolen exam paper.” Declan’s dark features split in a smile of genuine amusement as he grins at Iain. “You must remember, we got roasted by old Mr Hennessy and ended up scrubbing the toilets for fucking weeks.”
Iain nods, also smiling. “Lawrence Mortimer. Shit, yes. I can still smell the disinfectant.”
“I’m sorry,” I begin. “It was all my fault.”
“Was it?” Iain appears genuinely puzzled. “I always blamed that weasel Mortimer. He was the idiot who couldn’t pull off a decent burglary, then went and told anyone who asked the names every student who bought his copies. There was quite a line of us outside Mr Hennessy’s office, as I recall.”
“You got in trouble, and it was all my idea. I persuaded you to do it.”
“Did you?” Declan furrows his brow as he tries to recall the details. “You were younger than us, I remember that. And we liked having you about, you were useful when it came to doing our prep, but I don’t think you had that much influence over us. Not really.”
“I did,” I insist. I recall the conversation perfectly. “Fraze said it would be cheating, and it was, but I didn’t care. I talked you into going to find Lawrence and buying the paper from him, then I did the exam and gave you the right answers…”
Fraze shook his head. “I don’t think we’d have done what you told us to do, not if we were really against it. Yes, we cheated, or tried to, and in pointing that out back then, if I did, I would have been just stating the obvious. I don’t think we’d have been swayed by a kid so much younger, no matter how bright you were.”
“Or how pretty,” puts in Declan.
“Pretty? I wasn’t pretty.”
“Oh, but you were,” insists Declan. “We both agreed on that. You were too young, though, so not girlfriend material. And we’d have fallen out over you. We’d have been fighting in the quad, knocking seven bells out of each other. Back in those days we hadn’t learnt to share nicely.”
I stare at him. My eyes must be the size of saucers. “Share nicely? What does that mean? Surely you don’t share girlfriends…”
They exchange a look, but neither chooses to respond to my question. Instead, Iain—or Fraze as I prefer to think of him—returns to the matter of the stolen exam paper.
“Was that why you dumped us? Something to do with the cheating?”
“Alleged cheating,” observes Declan. “We never actually sat the exam, so…”
“It was cheating,” confirms Fraze. “We should be ashamed of ourselves. My father certainly thought so and pointed it out on a number of occasions, as did Mr Hennessy.”
“He was the headmaster, he had to say that.”
I can’t believe that they would be so casually dismissive. For me, this incident remains the crime of the decade. “How can you joke about it? It was serious. We could all have been expelled.”
&nb
sp; Again, they exchange a glance. “Could we?” Fraze shrugs. “I never thought of it like that.”
“Well, I did. I was terrified. I hid in my dormitory for a whole day, then I spent the rest of that term trying not to be noticed. I was sure Mr Hennessy was going to throw me out. And…and I lied about it when anyone asked.”
“You lied about it?” He tuts to himself. Iain Frazer-Lyons is laughing at me but he’s much too well bred to do it out loud.
I nod, deeply embarrassed and ashamed. “One of the other girls, Phoebe Watson Fforbes, asked me if I was the one who worked out the answers. I said I wasn’t, but she didn’t believe me. No one believed me, they all knew it must have been me.”
Fraze isn’t having that, seemingly. “Not everyone. They can’t have, or you’d have been in Mr Hennessy’s sights, too. We never mentioned your name to him.”
“I realise that. I thought you must have kept quiet about my involvement but I couldn’t work out why. It was my fault, my idea. You only had to tell them that, and—”
Declan reaches for me and lays his hand over mine. “Ellie, it wasn’t your fault. Even if it was, we would never have told on you. Apart from anything, you had a scholarship to worry about. Our fees were paid, there was no way we’d be slung out. But you…”
“I know. That’s why I lied and that’s why I didn’t dare to be your friend anymore. I was too scared that someone would connect me to what had happened. But it doesn’t make it right.”
“Well at least now we know why you dropped the pair of us like a hot brick. I confess, if there was anything that pissed me off, it was that.”
“True enough,” agrees Fraze. “Me, too. But stop beating yourself up, Ellie. It’s done with. Over. We haven’t given it a thought in years.”
“I have, I feel awful about it still.”
“There’s no need…”
“How can you not be angry.” I swing my gaze from Declan’s darkly handsome features to Fraze’s blond male beauty. “I left you to take the blame. I was a coward as well as a cheat.”
“Ellie, you had a lot more to lose than we did.” Fraze smiles at me. “You just said so yourself. You were right to be scared and to keep a low profile until it all blew over. As for being a cheat, that’s rubbish. You had no need to cheat. You could have done that exam in your sleep.”
“You’re just being kind. Why can’t you be angry? At least then I could apologise.”
Declan shrugs. “Feel free to apologise if you really think that’s necessary. Then we can all move on.”
“But I can’t,” I whimper. “You were punished, and I wasn’t. That wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.”
Fraze glances across at Declan. “Well, I doubt if Mr Hennessy has much call for toilet cleaners these days. I gather the old boy retired a few years back. I suppose we could let you buy us lunch…”
“I’ll happily pay for lunch, but that hardly compares to weeks of disinfectant and scrubbing brushes.”
“Perhaps not,” acknowledges Fraze, “but it’s the best we can do after all these years.”
“I know.” I hang my head and wonder how much longer it will be until we reach the next station. Maybe I could get off the train, catch the next one, and—
“Well, we could spank her, I suppose.” Declan offers this solution as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Yes, I was wondering about that. A decent spanking might even out the scores a bit.” Fraze flattens his gorgeous lips as though seriously considering this insane solution. “Yes, I think that might work.”
“Bare bottom, obviously,” adds Declan.
“Obviously. We could bend her over the table and take turns.”
“Or she could lie across our laps. First me, then you…”
“How come you get to spank her first? I cleaned more toilets than you did.”
“Bro, your memory’s slipping. I blame it on poor genes. Still, we could toss a coin for it.”
“Or we could let Ellie decide who goes first.” Fraze nods, satisfied. “Yes, that’s the best solution.” They both turn to me. “How does that sound to you?”
I can only gape in utter bewilderment. These two were always inclined to catch me off guard, but today’s madness trumps anything from our school days. I’m vaguely aware that my mouth is opening and closing as I search for words, any words that might constitute a sensible response. It’s only when Declan reaches for my chin and firmly closes my jaw that I realise how goldfish-like I have become.
“We could toss for it, I suppose,” offers Fraze.
Declan shrugs. “Fair enough. We’re agreed, then?” He settles back in his seat. “I’m looking forward to this.”
I find my voice, not before time. “No! No way. Are you both quite mad?”
“I don’t think so,” replies Fraze. “At least, I’m not mad. Are you mad, Dec?”
“Nope, not me. Perfectly calm.”
“Mad, as in delusional,” I clarify. “You can’t just go around spanking women you meet on a train.”
“We didn’t meet you on a train. Well, we did, just now, but—”
I cut off Fraze’s inane excuses. “I’m a grown woman, not some star-struck little girl you can push around like at school. A spanking? For Christ’s sake, it’s ridiculous. And on my bare bottom? That’s…that’s just perverted. It would be…sexual. And an assault.”
I’m pinned in my seat by both their intent stares. Neither is grinning now, no one is joking anymore.
Declan starts. “You’re right, at least on some counts. What we’re suggesting is not at all like being at school, though I don’t believe we pushed you around then, either. But you are indeed a grown woman, and this would be a grown-up spanking, between consenting adults. Yes, it could be sexual. Often is, but no one’s about to force you into anything you really don’t want to do.”
“But—”
“And we would never assault you, sexually or otherwise. If this happens, it will be with your consent.”
“Why would I ever consent to such a thing?” I whisper.
Fraze shrugs. “To deal with the lingering guilt. Or maybe because the idea excites you, intrigues you. Arouses you, even…?”
“Arouses me? That’s ridiculous…”
Or would be, were my knickers not already dampening at the prospect of baring my bottom and bending over, of knowing that they’re standing behind me, looking at my exposed pussy while they slap my buttocks. I clench, and the expression must be writ plain across my face as both now smile at me.
They know. They bloody well know!
“It’s up to you, Ellie. Think about it. Imagine it. There’s no harm in that.”
“I don’t… I mean, I—”
“Ah, here’s the nice man from the buffet car come to take our order for lunch. Is your offer to pay still on, Ellie?” Declan beams at me before turning his attention to the menu cards which the hospitality manager has dropped on our table as he makes his way through the carriage. “I think I might try the tomato and basil soup followed by the succulent roast chicken.”
Chapter Three
We eat our lunch in near silence. Naturally, I do pay for it, though I find the cottage pie less than appetising. Still, I get through most of my meal then make my excuses and return to burying myself in my work. No way am I re-opening that bizarre discussion on spanking.
By the time we reach Newcastle, well over halfway to Edinburgh, I can bear the quiet no longer. And I am genuinely curious about these two men who were, briefly, my best friends once.
“Are you on your way home?” I ask Fraze. “To Hathersmuir?” I recall the name of his family estate located somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, though of course I have never been there.
He shakes his head. “I don’t get home that often. We’re both headed to a family wedding in Edinburgh. Another of my countless cousins…”
“Oh, I see. So you live in Peterborough?”
“No, Hatfield. It’s good for commuting to the Ci
ty.” He nods across at Declan. “He plays for Peterborough these days, so it made sense to meet there and travel up together.”
“I see.” Commuting? That suggests a job in London. Somehow, I always envisaged Fraze as some sort of Monarch of the Glen character, striding across heather-carpeted moorland, his clan tartan flapping around his knees. The smartly casual man seated opposite does not fit that image. “What do you do in the City?”
“Banking, along with one or two non-executive directorships. I manage a couple of trips back to Hathersmuir a year, but mainly the estate is run by my sister these days. You remember Miranda? She was at St Hugh’s, too.”
“Yes, though she was older than us, so I didn’t really know her. You’re a banker? I suppose that means you did eventually manage to pass a maths exam.”
He grins, the expression lighting up his already too-handsome face. “Ellie, your faith in my profession is touching. I wouldn’t put money on many of my colleagues passing a maths GCSE, if I’m honest. I confess I remain crap at algebra and geometry, but I never had any trouble understanding a column of figures or a balance sheet.”
“Oh.” I’m not certain how to respond to that, though I make a mental note to remember this conversation next time I need to speak to my bank about extending my overdraft. I turn my attention to Declan. “You used to play abroad, yes?”
He nods. “Barcelona.”
“Then why…?”
His grin is wry. “I’m just thirty, and so far no serious injuries. That amounts to something of a charmed life, and my luck would eventually run out if I carried on playing in the top flight among all those hungry and ruthless youngsters. Premier League soccer is fucking brutal, and I’ve done my share of it. Add to that, I’ve nothing to prove. I was in the side that won the Champions League—twice—and the European Super Cup. I’ve been capped for Scotland over twenty times. There’s plenty of other stuff I want to do with my life, so it made sense to transfer back home and settle down. I still play, I enjoy my football, but these days if I want to chill out in Edinburgh for the weekend, I can.”
“What other stuff?”
“Media opportunities and business interests. I own a whisky distillery which does okay, but I want to spend more time on that and perhaps expand it. Most people would see peddling alcohol as not really compatible with a career as a sporting idol, so I guess I had to make a choice.”
