Chapter Twelve

 

 

“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I think I’ll go and eat worms.” Annie sang giggled as Tammy turned a hard face.

“Lay off, Annie! I felt bad enough then, and still do when I think about it!”

“Got you, kiddo, no matter what I say, you do it, don’t you? And you love it too.” Tammy stared hard, trying to conjure a worm , a snake anything but nothing happened. Her will wasn’t strong, she tried hard but nothing ever appeared. Annie had all the abilities - it seemed.

“I’ve got a new game for you, kiddo.”

“What now?” Tammy felt her stomach turn over and ripples set up that sent scared erotic thrills everywhere. What devious scheme had Annie come up with this time?

“You’ll like this one.” Annie threw her a small printed card. It caught the air currents and ended up under the bed. Tammy had to scramble to find it.

A name and address in heavy black type, in the corner a telephone number. Tammy looked at it, and then at Annie.

“So -”

“So that’s an ex headmaster, kiddo. He gives - private lessons. You go get one.” Annie’s look said lust and stern words, said obey me or else. Tammy went cold.

“You mean!”

“Mean he dons his gown and hat, he produces a nice swishy cane and canes young people’s bums. I want you to go and get caned. Tell him twelve at least.”

“Annie -” Tammy let her arms fall, despair and dismay writ large.

“Annie what?” A surge of anger hot enough to scorch Tammy’s mind. She shrank back. Annie thought at her - “Do you want to be punished by wimps like Mark all the time?”

“Uncle Phil’s doing a good job on me.” Spoken to hear the sound, fretful, reluctant and - scared.

“Uncle Phil’s getting himself entrapped in my web, that’s what Uncle Phil’s doing. And anyway, you know what to expect from him. You won’t with Mr. Wrayland.”

Tammy stood looking at the carpet and her feet, wondering why they didn’t move. If - no when - Annie gave a command Tammy was gone, but there was the distinct feeling Annie wanted more. And she was right.

“You can go there the long way round, have a good look at 47 Kensington Drive. Flash name for the lower end of town, but then I suppose it wasn’t always the lower end of town. Tell me what the house looks like, the garden, what age the car outside, the lot.”

“I guess that’s where -”

“Part of our real family lives. Right first time. Kill two birds with one stone, kiddo, get me some info, get me some thrills at the same time.”

Tammy walked slowly to the door, looked back. Annie was sprawled across the bed already with earphones in her hand, ready to indulge in some music.

“You won’t feel me if you go musicing.” Tammy was still reluctant but knowing she would go. And in knowing, felt all the thrills, felt herself go moist, felt her legs go to jelly. Whatever the man offered she would take it and allow Annie full access to her mind while she did. Annie grinned.

“My dear twin, I’ll feel you all right if Wrayland’s as good as they say he is.”

“Can I really - just go there?”

“Well, it isn’t usual, if he’s busy I suggest you make an appointment, give yourself plenty of time to think about it. I’ll enjoy that.”

The earphones were slipped on, Tammy effectively cut off. She tried telepathy but met a wall of music.

There was no escape. Anastasia had spoken.

The edges of the small card cut into her palm. Tammy left the room closed the door quietly behind her and went downstairs. No time to waste, Annie had spoken. She lifted her coat down from the hook, calling out to her mother.

“Just going to the shops.”

“All right, darling, don’t be long, wrap up warm!”

Cold wind bit at her ankles, wrists and exposed skin, November sweeping in off the fields catching the unwary.

Cold kept people at home, Tammy walked empty streets, blonde hair streaming out behind her as the wind caught, tugged and played with it. Her mind was obsessed with the thought of visiting this - Wrayland, of being ordered to bend over a desk or a chair and being caned by someone who had done it all his working life, the feelings intensified, became a serious ache. Tammy groaned, thought she heard an echoing laugh in her head. Annie was enjoying this, her discomfort, her apprehension, and her secret pleasure in submission.

The long way round. Out past the shops, past the lengthy car showroom and yard, pennants fluttering in stiff wind, cars dripping condensation and money. Rusty cars hidden at the back, only showroom shiny at the front.

The neighbourhood became considerably shabbier, here the fences were broken gates hung by a hinge if at all, litter grew in gardens in place of flowers. Cars abandoned, rusted, crashed, sat in driveways or on the pavement. Tammy hurried, cold now, cold with apprehension and the weather, casting a swift look at 47 Kensington Drive, taking in the peeling paint round the window frames, the tarnished knocker, the boarded lower glass pane. Outside for colour or genteel flower beds here, just weeds, grass and a drooping laburnum that swayed in the cold.

Look absorb telegraph it to Annie. If she was listening.

And on to the smarter area away from this end of town, where cars were gleaming and new, where trees lined the street and not just appeared occasionally in front gardens, where double glazing firms had earned their keep.

Mr. Wrayland’s house was smarter than the rest, hanging baskets with winter pansies and ivies, huge tubs with conifers and heathers, paved front garden, immaculate stiff white net curtains, elegant glass front door. Tammy rang the bell, feeling small stupid and very afraid. She heard the echo of a laugh again, knew Annie had done putting up a musical wall against her, was absorbing every moment of this. A tall severe faced balding man opened the door, bent steel blue eyes on her, said nothing.

“Excuse me. Mr. Wrayland?” at his nod she stumbled over her words. “My sister -” settled for open blatant honesty. “My sister ordered me to come and see you. Could I please make an appointment for a - private lesson?”

“4.00 p.m. tomorrow.”

The door was closed abruptly, giving her no chance to say I cannot make it then, because of course she could and she would. But there were a hundred questions, would it cost and if so how much, what should I wear, will someone be there, must I come alone -

‘Come home,’ Annie’s voice clear in her head, as clear as if she held a mobile phone to her ear.

“I’m coming,” she said aloud, startling an elderly lady struggling by with two large shopping bags.

The chill was total now, her blood ran cold through her veins, her feet hurting as she hurried along the iced pavements, shuddering as blasts of wind caught her.

Home seemed a long way away.

But tomorrow was even further away, there were many hours to wait, to anticipate, to brood and to fear.

And Annie knew it.