It's Not What You Think!

Having struggled to look at her watch, she realises she’s been locked in this room for almost nine hours now. Without her mobile phone! It’s bad enough she isn’t there to wave her son off to school. At least her mother is there to take him, but she’s upset she hasn’t even been able to tell either of them where she is at the moment.

At least she isn’t being mistreated. Other than being deprived of her liberty of course, and probably having been drugged at some point in the last nine hours or so. Absolutely unbelievable. When it all gets sorted out, Rodger is going to be in big trouble! In the meantime, her mother knows where she is and will be putting the rescue plan into operation. However, it is concerning her slightly that the plan hasn’t worked so far. After all, she is still absent from home. There’s bound to be a good reason she thinks. Don’t over-worry about it.

Desiree (real name Sandra) is a self-employed masseuse operating in a small town. She provides services far more personal than massages, that are deliberately advertised in an ambiguous way on her small but perfectly formed website to avoid arousing (pun intended) the interest of the police. It hasn’t worked. They know all about her but choose to ignore it for operational reasons. She travels locally – a maximum of no more than 5 miles – and has built up a loyal clientele over a period of seven years. There’s no kinky stuff available and she’s always home before midnight. Passing trade is a no-no.

It is no coincidence her decision to become a massage therapist, as some of the posher advertisements for what she offers prefer to call these activities, came after the break-up of her relationship with the father of her son. With him suddenly not there, and the discovery all their savings had been squandered by him, she was left with little choice but to try to earn enough money to survive by whatever means possible if she wasn’t going to lose the house and starve.

In fairness, she does have form in this area from before, in another town, and has followed in her mother’s footsteps. Her mother managed to leave the industry when she got pregnant with Desiree. She’s now a part-time teacher.  In some ways, her mother is proud of her daughter’s achievements. In other ways she wishes her daughter had married a rich, caring man so all the secrecy and duplicity involved with the present way of life would disappear. It's an uncaring, sometimes cruel world.

On the rare occasions she’s been out socially and able to let her hair down with one of the few friends she has who knows what she really does for a living, Desiree will say to her that one day she’ll write a book to expose all the ridiculous double-standards operating in small towns like the one she currently lives in, and how those people with power are the worst offenders. Obviously, given her chosen profession, which is not too far removed from the oldest profession, going out socially involves a trip some distance from home to avoid the possibility of being recognised.

Living in a small town and doing her kind of job there is normally a recipe for disaster. The potential for meeting someone you know, or someone you’ve seen on the school run, is much higher than average, although what the average actually is and how it can be accurately calculated remains shrouded in mystery. Desiree doesn’t shop locally. As previously stated, she doesn’t socialise locally either. As far as her son’s school is concerned, her mother tends to drop off and pick up on Desiree’s behalf. It seems a very private and possibly lonely life for Desiree, but she’s happy with it. Well, until now at least.

The coronavirus pandemic and lockdown has not affected her activities too much. The local constabulary are, as previously noted, generally tolerant, partially because the current Inspector based in the town has been a client for some years. She’s still confident she can talk her way out of any potential issue that may develop if stopped, not that this has happened so far. If anything, the only downside has been the motorways are much quieter and punters who would normally travel out of area to the local Travelodge for an important business meeting with her have been finding it difficult to justify the trip. In the great scheme of things, she thinks, it’s a small price to pay.

Then this happens! Rodger has been a client for a few months now, having originally been introduced by another client. He’s always seemed a bit doe-eyed when with Desiree, but a punter is a punter etc. whose money is just as good as anyone else’s, so what if the poor bugger likes me? It was the usual Thursday night arrangement. She travels to his place at 10pm. He lives alone, you can just tell. They’d talk for a few minutes, then off to the bedroom. All over and done with by 10.30; sometimes 10.25 if he was excitable and Desiree was feeling particularly industrious.

This particular night though, Rodger seemed a bit different. A little bit more nervous, come to think of it, and definitely worried. He also looked somehow unhealthy. Desiree had seen the concern in his face. He’d suggested a different bedroom this time. Whilst it didn’t bother Desiree too much (there was a bed in it, which was all that really mattered), she recalled he locked it after they entered. The entertainment was straightforward and par for Rodger’s course, but as she rolled away to get dressed, he pulled something out of a drawer and placed it over Desiree’s mouth. The unexpected nature of what happened meant Desiree didn’t even try to defend herself until it was too late. She was asleep in seconds.

When she wakes up, there’s a gag in her mouth. She is naked apart from her watch, but under the bedcovers. Both arms are fastened by a pair of handcuffs, which are themselves tied to the frame of the bed. In short, she is in a fix. Despite one part of her thinking this could be the end of me, another was thinking it’s Rodger – he’s not that kind of guy – there’s nothing to worry about. In the seven or so years since restarting her career, this is the first problem of this type she’s faced. She remains more annoyed than worried though.

Within minutes, Rodger enters the bedroom, the door to which had been locked. He apologises for what has happened, but says there is an explanation and she isn’t to worry. Given her present predicament, Desiree isn’t overly keen to accept that statement at face value. He promises to remove the gag and untie her soon, but not now. There are things he needs to do first. He smiles apologetically, turns away and leaves the bedroom, locking the door behind him. It’s 7am on Friday morning.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Desiree’s mother is becoming increasingly anxious. She’s hardly slept after realising her daughter hasn’t returned from work. She’s tried to phone Desiree on her mobile, but it’s switched off. So far, she’s left four messages, none of which have been answered as yet. The messages left are increasingly frantic, as if fearing the worst. The recovery plan in its basic form is very simple. In the first instance, to keep things low key, speak to the police Inspector they both know. He can get the ball rolling. Unfortunately, it turns out he’s away on business and isn’t answering his phone. Shit!

OK then, Plan B. Wake up the child. Make sure he gets washed and dressed. Give him breakfast before dropping him off at school. Then go to report Desiree missing at the police station. This is what Desiree’s mother is planning to do when the phone rings. It’s not Desiree though.

“Is that Desiree’s mother?”

“Yes, who is it please?” Desiree’s mother noted there had been no attempt to disguise the phone number being used. She was also slightly alarmed the person speaking to her seemed to know who she was.

“My name is Rodger. Desiree visited me last night by arrangement. She’s still here, because she felt unwell. I’ve sent her to bed. She gave me your number to ring to let you know she’s OK. I didn’t want to disturb you overnight, hence me calling now. She’ll be home later.”

“Thank you for letting me know. Can I speak to her?”

“Not at the moment. She’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her up. I’ll get her to ring you once she’s up and about.” With that, Rodger cut the connection.

Desiree’s mother looks at her phone and considers what she’s been told. She doesn’t believe a word of it other than his name. Desiree always provides her mother with details of clients before going out in the evening, just in case. She’s scanned the list on numerous occasions over the last few hours hoping something will leap out by way of explanation. The information includes phone numbers and addresses, where relevant. She looks at it again now and is able to confirm the phone number for Rodger tallies with the one she’s just received the call from. It’s something at least. There is also an address.

Plan B is therefore put on ‘hold’ in favour of Plan C, which is a visit to Rodger’s address after dropping the child off at school. When she gets there, Desiree’s mother has absolutely no idea what she will do next. She’s quite a capable woman, so decides to take knuckle-dusters as a precaution. Her grandson sees her putting them in her pocket as they prepare for the school run.

“Grandma, what are those metal things you’re putting in your pocket?” he asks.

“They are nothing to worry about. I’ve got to go into the town after I’ve dropped you off to get some items repaired. The metal things are some of the items.”

The reply seems to pacify the child. He dutifully gets into the child seat in the back of the car and waits for his grandma to fasten him in properly. It’s a five minute journey to school and, because it’s Friday, he’s aware that it’s fish and chips for lunch, which is his favourite. He’s in a good mood. Grandma makes sure he’s strapped in and sets off. The child is singing along to the song on the radio, whilst his grandmother is trying to work out how best to play whatever happens next. She tries not to make eye contact in case he notices how worried she is now.

In many ways, it’s fortunate that because Desiree’s grandmother is a teacher she has been able to get her grandson a place at his usual school during lockdown. It helps it’s the school she actually teaches in of course, and her relationship with the Head-teacher is excellent. She herself is on a rota for supervision, but this particular Friday is not one of her working days. Which may or may not be a blessing given what’s happening.

Back at Rodger’s place, he’s finished the things he needed to do and has returned to Desiree’s bedroom. He asks her if she intends to scream if he removes the gag, which is becoming very annoying. She shakes her head and he takes it out of her mouth.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Desiree immediately screams at him. “Let me go immediately. I promise I won’t tell the police about any of this. Just release me now.”

She’s overcome with the exertion she’s put into saying the first words she’s spoken for quite some time. Unexpectedly, she starts to cry softly.

“I’m sorry I had to do this,” Rodger responds, taking her still-incapacitated hands in his, “but I had no choice. If you remember, I’ve increased the number of times I’ve seen you in the last couple of months. My plan was to try to talk to you rather than just go to bed with you, but when I see you the idea of conversation just flies out of the window. The point is there’s something important I need to say to you.”

Rodger is pleased Desiree is not screaming the house down. Not that it would make any difference of course. There’s no one around at the moment to hear these, or indeed any other, types of noise. It is part of the reason he decided to rent the place initially.

“I’ve received a terminal diagnosis. It’s bowel cancer. They’ve given me three to six months. The trouble is I can’t do anything with this bloody lockdown in place. I want to travel, to visit some of the places on my bucket-list, but I can’t do that. I want to say goodbye to my friends. It’s pointless mentioning it to my family. They will worry more than they should about me when there are plenty of other things for them to worry about at present.”

Desiree has stopped crying. She’s looking at Rodger, who seems to be talking more to himself than her. Despite her current situation, she’s beginning to feel a little bit sorry for him.

Rodger continues. “Obviously, knowing you are going to die soon is the worst possible news, especially when you’ve enjoyed good health all your life until recently like I have. But, it’s unfortunately a fact, and no amount of crying on my part is going to reverse the diagnosis. What is really frustrating is I can’t do anything; I can’t go anywhere; I don’t have the opportunity at present to prepare for the end.”

“I’ve liked you since we first met. Oh I understand how our relationship is meant to be. I’m not stupid. Nevertheless, I thought I’d be able to talk to you about it in an adult fashion and try to work out a method of organising my imminent demise in a way that makes me feel as happy as it is possible to feel in the circumstances. Sadly, I’m a weak person. When you come round, the opportunity to make love to you over-rides my other concerns.”

“I received the bad news on the same day the lockdown started. Part of me is grateful that I know what is going on, but another part is wondering if life without a terminal diagnosis would be better than this. As I understand it, until recently support services for cancer patients had been withdrawn whilst the pandemic circulates. If my appointment had been for a few days later it may well have been cancelled and I would be none the wiser. Perhaps the not knowing would have made this more bearable.”

Desiree felt she needed to say something. “Please untie me Rodger, and get my clothes and phone. Once I’m dressed and I’ve spoken to my mother we’ll talk.” In truth, she was very upset for him. She’d heard about ‘tarts with hearts’ and dismissed the phrase as complete rubbish. Well, she thought, every day is a learning day.

Rodger seemed not to have heard her. “When the deaths total from Covid-19 reached 30,000 I knew there was very little chance the lockdown restrictions were likely to be eased in any meaningful way any time soon. The easing of restrictions was inevitable for the sake of the economy as much as anything else, but we’re now past 40,000 deaths and time is moving on far too quickly. Opportunities for me to come to terms with everything and be happy are unlikely to arise in time to make a difference. Every day I wake up is one day closer to premature death.”

“I began to think of ways I could try to persuade you to let me talk to you about all this. Unfortunately, this is the only one I could think of that might work and, even so, I expect your mother is already speaking to the authorities to explain you are missing. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, but I don’t believe there’s another alternative. To be brutally honest, even if I’m arrested what can they do? I won’t be around when a verdict is announced.”

Rodger gets up from the side of the bed and produces a key from his pocket. He unlocks the handcuffs. “Thank you for listening. I’ll just go and get your belongings.”

He walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked. There is a knock on the front door. He looks through the window. There are no police vehicles, which is good. He is expecting an Amazon delivery, so he opens the door. Desiree’s mother wastes no time, hitting him square in the face with a fist full of knuckle-duster. Rodger is unconscious before he hits the ground.

It’s three days later. Rodger is on life-support in hospital. He hit his head on the edge of a radiator when he fell to the floor, causing a bleed to the brain. The doctors aren’t overly optimistic about his chances of recovery. Immediate family have been informed but, despite the severity of the injury, they are reluctant to visit. They have family members living at home who are vulnerable. The pandemic affects areas no-one expects it to affect.

Desiree lives with her mother and son. The adults are distraught about what has happened; the son knows they are upset about something but doesn’t know how to ask the right question. When he goes to bed, they start to talk.

“I feel so sorry for him, I hope he pulls through.”

“He kidnapped you. It’s a tragic situation, but that doesn’t give him the right to do that to you.”

“Thank goodness the Inspector was able to pull a few strings. Otherwise you’d have been arrested.”

“Given the circumstances, I’m sure the authorities would have understood. Call it self-defence by proxy.”

“I’m not sure I can do this job any more.”

“Yes, it’s becoming too dangerous. What will you do instead?”

“No idea. I’ve saved some money, so I can survive for the moment. I’ll have to see what’s available. The world after lockdown will be very difficult. Not just for me, but for everyone.”

Two weeks later, Rodger dies. He never regained consciousness. Desiree is in bits when she finds out. She is able to attend the funeral to pay her respects, although it was only the relaxation of restrictions that made it possible. She knew no-one else who attended.

Two months later she receives a letter from the local solicitors. They are handling Rodger’s estate. He’s left her a small bequest. She starts to cry again.