|
Alice sat neatly down at
the kitchen table of her 3 bedroom semi-detached in the suburbs of London.
The burglar slouched at the other end of the vinyl kitchen table.
How did she know he slouched, she wondered. After all, the grey packing
tape that blindfolded her excluded even the slightest chink of light. But
she did.
If light had been able to pass the tape, it would have fallen on blue eyes
that glinted icily. Every corpuscle of Alice was angry. Her rage seared
like a symphony through her arteries. The hammer beats of her heart
crashed like cymbals in her ears as she strained for evidence of what was
happening in the seeing world around her.
The day had started badly - then it had got worse. It had begun with John
her husband, a slight, dapper man in his forties - grey suit, pale tie and
condescension. Her anger against the burglars momentarily redirected
itself back to her husband. She had been idly turning the pages of the
free newspaper while she waited for him to come down for breakfast. When
he did, he found her perusing an advertisement for a new shop in the high
street two blocks away.
"My secretary was in there yesterday. Bought a present for her
boyfriend to spice up a night in. Not up your street at all, my dear, far
too risqué I'm sure."
Alice had tensed, directed a look in his direction that anyone but a
completely insensitive, thick skinned male would have comprehended as
extreme displeasure, primped her hair, smiled one of her sweetest smiles
and deftly placed his breakfast in front of him. Over him would have been
better - but that would have been a waste and Alice hated waste even more
than assumptions about the liberality of her shopping habits.
When the elderly neighbour from next door had asked her to get her
prescription from the chemist, Alice had deliberately walked past the new
shop although it meant going round the village green the long way. The
shop was tasteful, she had to admit. It didn't look sleazy and it didn't
seem to be bulging at the seams with old men in crumpled
raincoats.
The mission to the chemist was successful and she returned the long way
round to have another look. On arriving home, the first indication that
all was not normal came when she made to close the front door. A strong
draught through the lounge pushed it shut with a bang. Had she left the
back door open? She was certain not. Could her husband have returned. Most
unlikely. Like Alice he was a creature of habit. The office would keep his
attention until the due time and then he would return in the early evening
to a tea Alice would have timed to the minute.
The second was the strong hand that clamped itself over her eyes. The
third was the cold steel that pressed sharply against her
jugular.
"You wouldn't want blood over that nice blouse would you. Keep quiet
and you won't be hurt" The gruff voice was harsh and determined. The
arm that obviously went with the voice bound her arms to her side like a
band of steel. The slimline dark knee length skirt she wore nearly made
her fall as he manhandled her into the lounge.
Another voice, higher, younger, perhaps just a boy, swore briefly.
Obviously they hadn't been expecting her back. The draught was stronger
here and a gust rattled the window and brought another portion of the back
window down onto the television top with a crash. The realisation of their
onslaught on her house moved Alice's emotions rapidly from surprise,
through fear to the deepest and coldest rage she had ever
experienced.
Icy cool, she forced herself to relax and cease resisting. The arm around
her eased a little too.
"What do you want."
"Just a bit of business - you'll get it back from the insurance. We
don't want to hurt you - just get in, get out and make a profit.
Co-operate and you won't get hurt."
"There's no cash in her handbag," observed the younger
voice.
The grip around her tightened.
"Where's your cash kept?"
"There isn't any - well just a few coins - change I've been storing
for the charity when they come round."
"You're lying!"
The arm drove the breath from her body. She gritted her teeth determined
not to cry out.
"You've already looked so why do you say I'm lying. I can't give you
what I haven't got."
"Her bags got a cheque book in it - phew, loads of money in
there." The younger voice had a south London twang, maybe a trace of
cockney. There was the sound of riffled cheque stubs.
"What! You think she's going to write us a cheque? Queried the gruff
voice sarcastically.
The younger voice continued. She could write a cheque, I could go and cash
it while you keep her entertained here.
"Now there's a thought you wouldn't have had before that last stretch
… learned quite a bit didn't you!"
Alice wondered through her teeming emotions whether she could detect
pride.
"Networking!" The younger voice continued with satisfaction.
"Nothing better and no better place for it."
The cheque was written in the kitchen with her stomach pressed hard
against the work top to stop her turning around and with the knife at her
throat. She wondered if the fact it emptied the account would be queried
by the Bank but doubted it.
The tape, discovered in the utility room with a whoop had then been
wrapped round her eyes. At least she had the use of her arms again. She
knew the layout of the kitchen exactly. Everything would be in its place,
unless they had moved it, neat and tidy.
"Would you like a cup of tea while we wait? Gruff voice had released
her once the tape was over her eyes. "I was just going to have one
when you - so rudely - interrupted me."
"Just don't blame me if you scald yourself and no funny business or -
put it this way - you'll be gutted!" He stabbed the knife into the
table top and laughed callously. It was a long drawn out snigger. The
chair creaked under his heavy body. The situation had stabilised, he was
in control and was looking forward to the cashed cheque.
"Is your tea all right?" queried Alice after a few minutes of
slurping silence.
"Just the way I like it, stewed!"
"Did you also learn that at the same place as your
friend?"
"Maybe I did … and maybe I didn't." Caution had entered his
voice - a cunning that grew from long experience of living with ulterior
motives and deceit.
"If you kill me, you will probably die too," said Alice levelly.
He sneered - but there was a tension in his voice. She could feel him
leaning forward.
Ice flowed like torrents in her veins - the most important thing in her
life - ever - was how she spoke her next words.
She didn't have to. There was the sound of his chair being pushed back,
the thump of his feet towards the downstairs cloakroom and then the sound
of him being violently sick.
"What the hell did you put in that tea," he snarled as he
re-entered the kitchen moments later.
"The whole of the contents of my neighbour's prescription,"
smiled Alice sweetly. She had taken off the tape and was observing him
minutely and contemptuously, like a specimen.
Then her expression changed and her blue eyes glinted
savagely.
"I haven't the faintest idea what's in it but it but I believe that
it thins her blood - or something. You're probably a lot better with it
out of your system or it would be thinning your blood now as it does to
many other rats in similar doses."
"You're completely out of your mind - if you think I'm going to let
you get off Scot free doing that to me …. " He was a thick set man
in his early thirties with black stringy hair, a dark patterned jumper and
scruffy baggy jeans. He advanced menacingly.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson!"
"On the contrary," said Alice coolly, "it is I who am going
to teach you!"
He stopped in his tracks. The gun, grey squat and chunky in her small hand
was pointing unwaveringly at his groin.
Move a step further and I will blow your brains out - you do keep your
brains down there don't you."
His moustache bristled on his upper lip and the rest of his face
paled.
"I should also add that I am the President of the local Women's Hand
Gun Club - and I was a regional finalist last year."
"Different to shoot a target than a person," he levelled at her
cautiously, through gritted teeth.
The plate on the wall by his head disintegrated.
"Not if you're really angry and do not give a single fig for the
person you're pointing the gun at." Replied Alice. "Do you know,
I really hated breaking that plate. It was my favourite. I loved it just
as I love this house and just as much as I loathe you. So do me a favour
and try your luck." The gun had returned to point to his groin
and he was now standing very, very still.
"Or," she was standing now, her one hand going through her
shopping bag, "you can put these on.
The handcuffs clanked on the kitchen table.
"Now!" Her voice was glacial and with no remorse. "Do
it!"
It was now early evening
and for Alice it had been a busy day. She was feeling more relaxed now and
back on an even keel. The late afternoon shower had helped and, pampered
and sweet smelling, she was looking forward to the return of his Highness,
Mr Condescending. Tea would be ready on time as always.
She gazed at herself in the full length mirror. Gone now the slimline
skirt and the blouse. The new dress hung in soft creamy alluring folds,
clinging to her slight body in all the right places. If she stood against
the light, she knew her underclothes would be visible, skimpy as they
were.
Her anger against the burglars was over. Which meant she could get on with
being cross with her husband again and his remarks at the beginning of the
day about 'risqué' and his young secretary.
It was convenient her plans for the evening had also provided such a good
solution for the burglars. When the police had come to take them away and
had replaced Alice's handcuffs for official ones, the Sergeant had looked
at her suspiciously. Alice had given him her most demure of smiles.
"The trouble is, madam," had said the Sergeant, "with good
behaviour, they'll be out again in a month, if they go in at all. It's not
much of a punishment for the distress to you."
Alice smiled again even more sweetly as the memory of the red haired
woman's tear stained face and the man's extremely red one as they were
taken away. The thought drifted satisfyingly to the back of her
mind.
She reached up to the back of the bedroom door where the bag from the new
local shop was hanging. In the bag lay the handcuffs. They would need
cleaning and sterilising since she was expecting to be using them again
later.
Mr Condescending indeed!
The same sterilisation would be needed for the other article she had
bought from the same shop and which had been the cause of the burglars
tears and very red face. It too was hung behind the bedroom door by its
curved handle in readiness.
A very thin, supple, willow wood cane.
"Such a very neat and tidy solution," thought Alice, happily.
The End
© Rob Hopcott 1999 - 2000, all rights reserved.
|
