The Tied Man

by Tabitha McGowan

  I sighed. Blaine’s ban on technology didn’t extend to herself. Word of my latest encounter would no doubt have been on every gossip site on the internet before we had even touched down.

  ‘Anyway, I digress. What I want to say is that Albermarle can offer you a greater opportunity for release than most could ever dream. Why don’t you come with me? It’s far easier to experience than to explain.’ Blaine stood and reached out her hand to lead me back through the doorway.

  No amount of honeyed words could have prepared me for what I saw. My earlier comment about dungeons was no longer funny, because that was exactly what Blaine Albermarle had constructed in the cellars of her warped fairytale home, complete with bare stone walls, a rack holding a selection of whips and implements I didn’t want to take a guess at, and a colossal bed that dominated the far end of the chamber.

  A massive black wooden Saint Andrew’s cross was bolted to the opposite wall and from its beautifully polished leather cuffs, forehead pressed to harsh stone and entirely naked, hung Finn.

  Before I could run Blaine stepped between me and the door. In her hand she held a heavy, hand-stitched crop. ‘Imagine, Lilith. Imagine what it’s like to live out any fantasy you’ve ever had without fear of censure or discovery. He can be whoever you want him to be, and you can do whatever you like to him.’

  I could say nothing at all, and Blaine took this as permission to continue. ‘Try it.’ She pressed the crop into my hand. ‘You’ve been a very bad boy, haven’t you, Finn? I’m sure Lilith is capable of teaching you an important lesson.’

  He slowly turned to face me so his head was forced to one side against the smooth wood. The huge eyes that had sparked with a life beyond this place were dull and dilated.

  ‘I’m sorry, I really can’t do this,’ I managed to whisper.

  Blaine eased the whip from my clenched fingers. ‘First time nerves. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the technique with those talented hands of yours. Let me show you.’ She raised the crop and brought it down with all her strength across Finn’s exposed shoulders and I knew that this was no consensual role-play. He gave a soft, muffled uh in response and pushed his forehead against the wood. His eyes closed and I was glad.

  ‘See? The trick is not to be too gentle. If you hold back, you foul the blow. Just one clean movement.’

  Too slow, I realised Blaine was still teaching me. Once again the heavily stitched crop fell across Finn, lower this time so that a welt rose across his buttocks. Livid flesh turned to scarlet as I watched.

  ‘No. Just... no.’ I turned and ran from the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Lilith

  I didn’t relish the idea of a court case, but by seven the next morning I had a half-decent campaign plan in mind. There had to be some lawyer somewhere willing to take on the fight with my father and challenge the bastard in the way I should have done from the start, and then I could try to forget that these past three days had ever happened and I could get my life back.

  It was hard to believe that only days ago this approach had seemed so impossible – that I would choose even an hour in this lunatic asylum over the insignificant hassle of legal proceedings.

  I was so confident that my cases were already packed by the time I stormed upstairs for a meeting with Blaine, and the nearer I got to her room, the more bullish I felt. After all, aside from the latest clash with my father, I had not lost a fight in fifteen years.

  She was already at her desk, fully made-up and wearing a delicate pink silk dressing gown, when I walked into her room unannounced. I was annoyed with myself for being surprised when I saw the three telephones and computer that took up most of the green-leathered surface, when I now knew that Albermarle Hall - ‘The romance of candlelight and open fires’ - was nothing more than a cheap, cynical construct. She glanced up from the screen. ‘Good morning Lilith. I was expecting you. Would you like Henry to bring you tea?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve just come inform you that I’m leaving, and to settle my father’s debt.’

  ‘What, all twenty seven pounds?’

  ‘Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.’ I rested my hands against the desk. ‘The bastard. The cheap, stupid bastard. All of this for what, the price of a round?’

  ‘Three double brandies at the restaurant in the village, actually. But sometimes it’s not about the money, it’s about the principle.’

  I looked into the face of the woman who had recently given me my first lesson in advanced sadism and detected no irony whatsoever. ‘Fine. Do you need cash, or will a cheque do you?’

  ‘I think we need to have a little talk before you do anything too hasty. Will you give me the chance to explain a few things about last night?’

  ‘There is absolutely nothing about last night that I want to talk about.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you do need to listen.’ She came out from behind her desk and walked with me to the window. Together we looked out across the lake to where holidaymakers in smart wooden cabins would just be waking up to another day of bracing Northumbrian air and wholesome living. ‘My parallel world. It runs, ignorant and content, alongside a business that survives on complete discretion. If my mainland guests had any idea about some of the more specialist services I provide, both at Albermarle and in London… Well, I’m sure you’re more than aware of the damage caused by tabloid intrusion.’

  For the first time in my life I found myself wishing for a full-scale invasion of paparazzi, crawling all over the island and illuminating every dark corner with the glare of flash-bulbs.

  ‘I pride myself upon my ability to judge my guests’ most intimate tastes – I must admit, you’re the first failure I’ve had. You really are quite a challenge, aren’t you, Lilith?’ She looked at me in amusement. ‘It surprises me that you didn’t accept Finn’s initial offer. I’m sure you’d have enjoyed the experience.’

  ‘I might have. He wouldn’t.’

  ‘Lilith, you’re one of the most attractive guests we’ve had at the Hall. I’m sure Finn would have taken great delight in making love to you without the need for half a bottle of Viagra and a very active imagination.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to be here, Blaine. I could see that the moment I met him. And as for last night…’

  ‘Ah, that.’ Said like it was some kind of social event that had gone a little awry. ‘If it’s any consolation, Finn gave his full consent to be here, and I have the contract to prove it. He may not enjoy everything that’s asked of him, but that’s the major draw. My clients are those who’ve grown tired of actors who merely posture their discomfort; I can offer them someone to play with who genuinely doesn’t want to play along. Once you’ve had this experience, there’s no going back to ‘let’s pretend.’’

  She suddenly became serious. ‘However, it concerns me that you turned down last night’s opportunity. As you’re more than aware, the press would adore a story like this, armed with none of the facts and a heightened sense of false modesty.’ She walked back to her desk and handed me a document wallet. ‘I would suggest that you sit down whilst you take a look. Let’s call it ‘insurance’.’

  I wordlessly sat on a divan and tipped the contents out onto the coffee table. The very first thing that tumbled out was a photograph of Daniel, my half-brother, sitting on a colourful plastic bench in the playground of his residential school. It had been taken from some distance away, but I could tell that it was recent: spring blossom foamed on the hawthorn trees surrounding the sunlit yard and Daniel wore the rainbow-coloured cap I had sent him from London on my last visit. I felt physically sick.

  I numbly leafed through the rest of the papers and found a meticulously researched summary of my little half-brother’s life. His latest school report; copies of emails to my father and stepmother asking for permission for a trip to the zoo; a list of his current medication.

  ‘I need you to know that it gives me no pleasure to bring a child into all this.’ I was vaguely aware that Blaine was speaking to
me from several rooms away. ‘I would have much preferred to have gathered the materials for your incentive last night.’

  ‘What, hidden cameras? Classy.’

  ‘A full range of the latest surveillance equipment, actually. As I said, it’s vital that I have insurance against any of this becoming common knowledge.’

  I briefly considered asking just what ‘insurance’ had goaded my father into travelling all the way to Spain to find me, before deciding that I never wanted to know.

  ‘So, to summarise. I would very much appreciate it if you remained at Albermarle Hall until my portrait is completed.’ Blaine took the photograph from my hands and began to place all the papers back in their wallet. ‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping you prisoner here, but I should tell you that the individual who took that photograph is currently staying within five minutes of your brother’s school, and will remain there for the duration of your residence. I’m sure you can appreciate that my first loyalty is to my business. This doesn’t have to change anything, Lilith. If you decide to do anything foolish, then I’m afraid I’ll be forced to take action, but if you’re sensible, then none of this will ever be mentioned again. I’m merely being honest with you and protecting my interests. Do you understand?’

  I struggled to drown out the roaring that had returned to my ears. ‘Yes, I understand perfectly. Will that be all?’

  ‘For now. I hope you have a productive day.’

  Finn

  I sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring a mug of black coffee for the thousandth time and letting a cigarette burn out between my fingers. I wore a pair of pyjama bottoms and nothing else: my back would be too tender to cope with the pressure of fabric for another couple of hours, and my arse was just about letting me sit down without killing me.

  ‘Jesus, Henry, she was fucking horrified. I’m there spread-eagled like the fucking gimp I am, and Blaine hands her the whip and tells her to get on with it. It was like asking a Mother Superior to flash her tits.’

  Henry grimaced. ‘It’s rare for her to get it this wrong.’

  ‘You’re telling me. God, this is going to cause some trouble.’

  ‘It’s all a little odd. Lilith didn’t strike me as a prude.’

  ‘It’s not that. I just reckon she’s the first person I’ve ever known who’s been in that situation and decided to act on principle.’ I managed a last drag before the filter itself began to burn. ‘Whatever, I reckon she won’t be able to look me in the eye again.’

  Henry stopped piling dishes. ‘Does that bother you?’

  ‘Nah,’ I lied, carefully circling my shoulders to test the extent of the damage. As if on cue, Lilith walked into the kitchen, took one look at me hunched over the table, and walked out without saying a word. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ I groaned, using my teeth to pull my tenth Marlboro of the morning from its pack.

  Yes, it bothered me, and even bloody Henry knew it. It bothered me a great deal, not least because I might just have lost something that was never mine to begin with. I pulled smoke deep into my lungs, ignoring Henry’s forced cough, and idly wondered if it was physically possible for a man to smoke himself to death in two hours.

  Before the butt had finished smouldering in the Wedgwood saucer I was using as an ashtray, I lit my next smoke. I waited for Henry’s concerned reproach, but none came. Instead, he mutely stared over my head.

  ‘I can get two across, but I’m having a little difficulty with five down.’ Lilith stood in the doorway and coolly appraised the cross-hatched pattern of damage to my back.

  Henry gave her a grateful smile. ‘Would you care for a coffee?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything stronger?’

  ‘Well, there’s my cooking brandy, but…’

  ‘That’ll do.’

  I didn’t move, as if through silence I could render myself invisible. Lilith stood above me and unscrewed the lid from a small jar. ‘Keep still,’ she ordered. ‘Arnica. It might sting a bit, but it’ll help to bring the bruising down. Have you got some ice, please, Henry?’

  Henry, stunned into silence, obediently wrapped a handful of ice cubes in a tea towel and passed it to Lilith. In between mouthfuls of cheap brandy from a mug, she pressed the impromptu icepack to the worst of my injuries, and began to rub arnica into those that had just started to settle.

  Lilith

  Trapezius, deltoid, infra spinatus, teres major, teres minor, latissimus dorsai. Under my hands, Finn became an anatomist’s model. I named each muscle, mouthing the words under my breath as an atheist’s prayer for distance. ‘Is it always this bad?’ I finally asked. Blaine had clearly kept going long after I had fled the scene.

  ‘Looks worse than it feels,’ Finn replied, which was no answer at all. He leaned across the table to take another cigarette from its battered pack.

  Under the angry grid of most recent marks, I could see a fainter web of silver-white lines across the man’s back and shoulders. I traced one with my finger. ‘These are older.’

  ‘A few months, maybe,’ came the lie. It would take years for a scar to fade to this translucent memory. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re down here wasting time playing Florence fucking Nightingale. If I were you I’d be packing my kit – if you’re not swayed by flaying me alive, she’ll be busy finding another way to keep you on the island.’

  ‘She already has.’ I finally sat down. ‘May I?’ I asked, taking a cigarette without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Feel free.’ Finn took the lighter from me when my trembling fingers failed to make it work. ‘I thought your body was a temple.’

  ‘Not this morning, it isn’t.’

  ‘You could tell us if you wanted to.’ Henry joined us at the table and pouring me another inch of brandy. ‘You don’t have to. I mean, if it’s personal - ’

  ‘Daniel. My half-brother. He’s ten. Autistic. Goes to a residential school in Wales. They’re working miracles with him.’ I drained my mug again. ‘She showed me school photographs, reports, everything. Even some bloody memo from his teacher to the head about packed lunches for a school trip. Apparently she could reach him at a moment’s notice. I assume she’s telling the truth?’

  ‘No, no, I’m sure…’ Henry began, but Finn silenced him with a raised hand.

  ‘Yes, she’s telling the truth, and yes, she could – has – done it.’ He pulled the last cigarette from its pack and lit it, curling his tongue around the blue smoke. ‘She’ll have built in contingency for you saying ‘no’ right from the start.’

  I murdered the last of the brandy. ‘So if she planned on me refusing your initial offer, why send you in the first place?’

  Finn drew hard on his cigarette. ‘Because she hoped it would get you in the mood to want to smack the living shit out of me. And because she gets off on fucking with my head.’

  It sounded so wantonly cruel that I looked to Henry for confirmation.

  ‘I wouldn’t say it quite so crudely, but yes, that’s about right.’

  ‘And it blurs the boundaries, doesn’t it?’ Finn added. ‘Means I stand bugger-all chance of working out what’s truth and what’s the latest twisted fantasy. Keeps me in my place.’

  ‘Your place.’

  ‘Yeah. You know, the one you so accurately guessed yesterday afternoon. The ‘nasty piece of smackhead rough-trade that got lucky’ place.’

  ‘You worked the streets?’

  Finn nodded. ‘Phoenix Park and thereabouts. First time when I was fifteen, last time the day before I made it to this paradise. The only job I’ve ever had.’ He gave me a bitter, defiant glance. ‘So I’ll understand if you don’t want to share a toothbrush.’

  ‘Well that would be a little hypocritical of me, don’t you think?’ I asked, gearing up for what was about to come.

  ‘What, you’re going to tell me you were a fuckin’ whore?’

  ‘No. But my mother was.’

  Finn

  ‘Yeah, right she was,’ I laughed, until I saw Henry making frantic
gestures behind Lilith’s back. ‘Sweet Jesus, you’re serious?’ I had never detested my enforced ignorance more. I recalled yesterday’s pass in light of Lilith’s revelation and inwardly cringed. ‘Henry, you miserable little fucker. You’ll have known would you?’

  Henry nodded sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Finn, really I am. It’s just that –’

  ‘Yeah, okay, I know. Can’t have Mother distressed now, can we?’ I turned to Lilith. ‘Look, I know it makes no bloody difference at all now, but I’m sorry for yesterday – if I’d known…’

  ‘But you didn’t know, did you? And from what I can gather, that was all part of whatever sick game I’ve just had the great misfortune to stumble across. So if this is the time for apologies, will you accept mine for my anger?’

  Apart from Henry’s constant twittering remorse for everything he did, I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had apologised to me, and Lilith held out her hand in a gesture of reconciliation. Of levelling. We shook.

  I suddenly recalled the weak-chinned guest from a few months ago – one that Blaine had dealt with herself, thank God – and looked again at Lilith. ‘So, your ma... Jesus. But isn’t your old man someone?’

  ‘Sir Simon Montfort CBE, failed MP, Knight of the Realm, and all-round spineless twat and waste of DNA. My birth name was Clarissa Montfort, before you ask. ‘Bresson’ was my mother’s maiden name, and ‘Lilith’ was our gamekeeper’s cat.’

  ‘So how the hell did that one work out?’ I asked, desperate to fill in a few gaps. Henry mimed pulling a zip across his mouth.

  Lilith saw him this time, and he blushed. ‘It’s all right, Henry. I think it might be a good idea to clear a few things up, don’t you?’

  I had the feeling I had just managed to screw up once again.

  ‘My father met my mother when he was an exchange student at the Sorbonne, and she was a prostitute in a Montmartre brothel. He started out as a customer, but by all accounts romance blossomed.’ Lilith stubbed out the cigarette that had barely touched her lips. ‘Knowing my father I find that part rather hard to believe, but I digress. It became our Big Family Secret – the story was that they’d met one sunlit autumn afternoon whilst admiring the same Cezanne in the Louvre, and despite my mother’s humble background my father was determined to marry her. It wouldn’t have been hard for people to believe that, at least. She was the most beautiful girl you could imagine. Anyway, it remained secret for the best part of fifteen years.’