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Chapter 13: Training Centre
Back in the UK, Freddie took the opportunity to see how the girls from Belvedere College for Young Ladies were doing. In Clegg's training centre, Lucy Amory and Jill Pascoe were approaching the end of their conditioning and preparation for sale. Jill, the more independently minded of the two, had found it hardest to adapt and her pale skin bore the stripes of the beatings needed to achieve the required level of submission to the will of her trainers. Lucy, though, had determined at an early stage to make the best of her current situation and had taken to some of the tasks assigned to her with enthusiasm. Clegg watched as she was brought out, naked, from her cell to go through the regular morning routine. She might be shackled, Clegg thought, but she carried herself with confidence. Her head might be bowed as was required of trainees but her breasts were held up, her shoulders were back, and she stepped out in a purposeful way that said, "I may be a slave, but I'm a good one."
Harry had told him that she'd quickly become proficient in the various sexual acts that made up the girls' standard repertoire. Clegg was pleased for her. Generally speaking, the better the girls were after training, the better position they gained and the better lives they led.
Jill was a different proposition. She was wrestled from her cell, resisting, gagged and wild eyed. Freddie knew what was next in store for her. When the beatings didn't work, there were more painful options. In the end, she would comply. It was just a matter of how much damage she did to herself in the process. He hoped she didn't press things too far. Apart from everything else, it just increased his costs and reduced his take.
Freddie's consideration of the likely profitability of his Belvedere College acquisitions was interrupted by a phone call. Norman was wondering how Freddie was and if he would like to stop by at Hamblingham.
Freddie took his Aston across country to Suffolk.
Norman St John-Ferris leant happily on the gate of the drive to Hamblingham Hall, smiling with satisfaction at the sign that said "Closed To Visitors" as Freddie drew up.
Freddie wound down the window of the Aston. "I hope that doesn’t include me, old man."
"Quite the reverse," Norman beamed, opening the gate. "Come on up to the Hall."
Freddie drove through. He bounced gingerly over the cattle grid and swung the car across the empty visitors’ car park, ignored the signs saying "No Cars Beyond This Point" and continued round to the side of the Hall. Norman followed him on foot. Freddie parked alongside a bright red Ferrari and got out just as Norman stepped across the grass to meet him. "Nice car," said Freddie, "wouldn’t have thought it was your style."
He had hardly said it when the door to the Hall opened. Freddie watched, impressed, as a long-limbed girl loped down the steps with antelope-like grace. Her skin was the polished black of a west coast African and her clothes looked as though they cost as much as the Ferrari. She tossed a Michael Kors "Skorpio" satchel handbag into the car, not caring if she scuffed either the bag or the car’s upholstery. "Back soon, darling" she called to Norman before peering momentarily over seasonally unnecessary sunglasses at Freddie and sliding into the car in a movement that seemed like she was pouring her legs into the foot well.
A spatter of gravel hit the wall of the Hall as she sped off. Freddie winced at the clunk as she crossed the cattle grid. Ferraris weren’t designed for that, Freddie thought.
Freddie looked questioningly at Norman.
"Danoola Iswana," Norman said as he ushered Freddie inside. "Call her Danni. Isn’t she something?"
Freddie’s immediate reaction was to be worried by this new development, but he put his thoughts to one side. He looked around the entrance hall. The ticket desk and racks of guidebooks had gone. So had the sour faced woman who had asked for his entrance fee on his last visit. "So, you got the National Trust out?" he said. "No problems?"
Norman led the way into the library. Ashtrays, Freddie noticed, had been reintroduced. The wedding pictures had been removed. Norman pulled a bottle of scotch from where it was incongruously perched on the bookshelves. Freddie nodded as Norman offered him a glass. "They didn’t like it but they didn’t have much choice. I’m letting them run the park, can’t be arsed with that, but I’ve got the house back. Police were a bit curious. Felt it was all a bit of a coincidence, Alicia running out on her gallery, Rani’s business getting wacked by the Famiglia, Denise quitting the country club. I didn’t feel able to help. Told the police they talked to each other more than they ever did to me. Besides, they only ever spoke to me through their lawyers – tragically, they seem to be out of a job now – so how was I to know anything about what they were up to? Said I’d be happy to help, but I’d been hosting a session on the history of the Hall for the Trust all over that week."
"Hard to see how they could suspect you of anything," Freddie said, sipping his whiskey, still feeling disquiet about the arrival of Danni.
"That’s what I thought. How’s business?"
"Surprisingly good. Just sold on three very nice pieces that I was lucky enough to lay my hands on through some contacts in Europe. Very nice Asiatic item, picked up by an American looking for something a bit different. There was an older piece that I thought I might have trouble with turned out to be really attractive to an Asian client who was looking for something in that line. The other one was high gloss, very arty looking piece, just the sort of thing they like in the Gulf; had two princes both take a shine to it and that helped drive the price up. All packed up, shipped, signed, and paid for."
"Well it’s nice to hear things are going well."
"Thanks. No problem. One other thing, Norman, about Danni..."
"Did you see those legs? I’m still looking for the end of them. Worth buying her that Ferrari to have her around cheering up the place."
"So, she’s a feature around here now? You’re not planning on getting married, are you, Norman?"
"Hey, no. Well, why not? But, no. No, she hasn’t even mentioned it. No."
"Good," said Freddie, still feeling worried. "I’d hate to think you might need any more favours."
Three hours later, it was dark. Freddie was heading back after dinner at the Hall. He put a call through to the office. Harry took it. "How was your dinner, Freddie?" Harry asked. "Norman on good form?"
"Yes," said Freddie. "Really good form. Got a new woman in tow, too."
"Uh-oh. Hasn’t he worked out what’s causing his problems?"
"It seems not. Maybe it will all be OK."
"But if not....?"
"I think we ought to research the possibilities," Freddie said. "I’d like to know how I could lay my hands on a long-legged piece in ebony and what the re-sale opportunities might be. Just in case. I’ll get you the details. I’m worried that Norman and the Hall could turn out to be a full time job."
The End
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