Chapter Twenty

 

 

Christmas came in a flare of silver designer matched Christmas tree, sparkly but oh so refined decorations and a whole lot of hypocrisy. Annie raged against it all as she leaned against Tammy’s window-sill and stared out at strong winds, scudding violent black clouds and cold cold rain.

“Look at it all,” she swept her arms around in a huge circle, taking in Tammy’s carefully piled up wrapped gifts, the new djress waiting for Christmas morning, and Tammy’s few attempts at decorating her room, a shining star suspended from the ceiling, a few bits of holly here and there, tinsel draped round the mirror. “You’ve made it look half way homely, but downstairs -”

Tammy knew precisely what she meant. Downstairs was Mother’s domain, where everything had to be matched or it wasn’t allowed. Cards with cheerful Santas on them were tucked to the back, the elegant snow scenes and Victorian prints were brought to the front.

“Is homely a compliment?” she asked, picking up a sprig of holly and tucking it behind the hands of her Victorian doll.

“Yes, of course it is! I bet the Giblings have a traditional tree, pine needles dropping everywhere, tatty old fairy, lights, the whole bit, things they’ve loved forever, which come down out of the loft year after year - while we get designer trees.”

“But they’re lovely,” objected Tammy, trying to visualise a tatty tree strung with lights and old ornaments, and failing.

“You’re missing the point, kiddo.” Annie swung round and round, throwing her arms out, almost touching the glass lampshade suspended from the ceiling. “You’re missing the whole fucking point!”

“Don’t swear,” Tammy spoke automatically, registering her twin’s distress and rage.

“I’ll fucking well swear if I want! Listen, Tams, listen and look. Every year Mother goes out and buys - buys - a damn tree fully loaded with ornaments. Other people, normal people, get their decorations from their lofts, and say things like ‘oh look at this, I remember this!’ and ‘isn’t this old now?’ and it’s loved . It isn’t sterile and new and shiny bright! It’s loved!”

“As we are.”

“I wished! I think we were bought, paid for, brought home in new oh so white shawls encrusted with lace and ribbons because that is what was needed to complete the picture! Gran Webster was right there, damn her soul!”

“How do you know all this, Annie?”

“Know what? About the decorations and things? I was there when the Jeffersons got theirs out. Amanda invited me round, remember? I never got over it.”

“We have our own traditions, Mother buys a new tree.” Tammy picked up a package and handed it to Annie. “Here, an early gift. Don’t let Mother see what I’ve bought you.”

“A surprise? How did you manage to get a surprise without me knowing?” Annie pulled at the brightly patterned paper with the glee of child. “Oh no!” She looked at the cover of the video with a mixture of dismay and surprise, then burst out laughing. “The Experience. You bought me The Experience!”

“What’s funny?” demanded Tammy, feeling hurt that the secret her carefully closeted mind had concealed should be laughed at.

For answer Annie hurried out of the room and came back clutching an identical package. Tammy took it, suspecting what she would find.

“You didn’t!” She had, the same video.

“But how -” they began together, stopped, laughed and tried again.

“Who got -”

“You first,” Annie gestured toward Tammy. “You first, you gave me your gift first.”

“And I got Mark to get this for me. The suppliers much have thought Christmas had come - oh it has!”

Annie began to laugh so hard she rolled on the floor, holding her stomach and shaking as tears flowed down her face. It was infectious, Tammy found herself joining in.

When they finally stopped laughing, Annie rolled over, picked up her video and looked at it.

“I’ll give this to Alfred, the original dirty old man.”

“Who’s Alfred?” Tammy reached for tissues, dabbed her wet face and flopped out on the bed, a lifeless rag doll, exhausted with laughter.

“Wrayland.” The answer prompted a further question in Tammy, one she had wanted to ask and didn’t like to. Perhaps deep down she knew the answer before it came.

“Why do you still go there, Annie?”

Annie sobered up, put a finger to her lips, whispered ‘sssshh,” and flashed Tammy a series of vivid and erotic pictures, young men, some older women, even a few children brought by their parents, bent over the chair in Mr. Wrayland’s study, being caned.

“And where are you while this is going on?” “In his kitchen. Would you believe he has a mirror in the hall directly opposite the chair where you bent over, kiddo? And you can see that mirror from the kitchen. And it works, damn me it works!”

“Really? Do parents really take their kids there?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you my twin. I wouldn’t dare - you’d see through it,” but Tammy wondered if she would. Annie had learned to close her mind to all probing and touching. “No, not really taking them there, what happens is, old Alfred does private tutoring, and the parents give him carte blanche to cane if the pupil gets it wrong too many times. Sometimes they are there to watch, kinky swines!”

“How do you know when to go?”

“Questions, questions! I don’t, I just go, and if it’s a good day he’ll have a pupil or a visitor, you know, like was answered the contact ads, other people do. This woman the other day, she must have been 50 if she was a day, all saggy bum and drooping cheeks, wanted to be really roughly treated. He got her bent over, caned her six times, hard mind! Whistling that cane down across her white flabby cheeks, how they bounced when the cane hit them! And then made her stay there for ten minutes, gave her another six, waited another tem minutes, gave her another six, and then called me in. She was shocked rigid! But he ordered her to stay there and gave her another six just the same with me watching and she was bawling when he’d done.”

“What did you think?”

“Tam, my dear twin, I loved every second of it, even if I couldn’t bond with her like I can with you. So I have a good time at old Wrayland’s and there’s the other thing -

“The other thing is, you’ve got him where you want him.”

“Right first time.” I’m not sure yet how I’ll use him, but I will.”

And Annie said it in a cold hard voice that sent chills down Tammy’s spine. Then she added something else that sent more than a chill down her spine.

“New Year’s Eve, kiddo, you go walking. Remember, the first man you see -”

“How could I forget?” a sweep of feeling went through Tammy, making her almost climax right there, on her own bed, without a single fantasy thought to do it, just the mere knowledge she would obey Anastasia, come what may.

I had to come, it had been threatened long enough, and it was now just about a week