Chapter Five

Wayne Austen was supposed to have been shepherding me out of the village at the request of my sister but he was doing a very poor job of it. He had suggested that we split up for fear tha if we were seen together both of us would be caught in the net. Somehow he believed that if one of us was free, that person could call in assistance from the outside to save the other one. However, after separating from me, he realised the folly of his decision. His fears rose swiftly when he thought of the punishment he would have to suffer at the hands of my sister if he failed in his duty. He had doubled back firstly to the garage, becoming frustrated when I wasn’t there, but he found me when Townsend led me to Bridget McBain’s house. His mind became totally confused at that point when he saw Bridget come out with her son to greet us before we all went inside the house. Why would I go to someone’s house with Townsend, a man he had never seen before? Sadly, Wayne was not a very good detective and he was unable to put two-and-two together with regard to the event. He knew that strangers were distinctly disliked in Numbwinton yet I was being welcomed into the house of one of the villagers. Some time later, he saw me return to the police station and then wander to the church on my own. As a result of his confusion, he stepped out of his clandestine position from behind a clump of trees and almost fell into the arms of PC7 who was plodding along on his beat.

‘Well, well, well!’ exclaimed the policeman, taking hold of Wayne by the collar. ‘What have we here? Another stranger! The place is becoming infested with them like fleas!’

The detective was lost for words. The last thing he wanted to do was to be captured in this remote village in the north of England with no one to bail him out. He cursed his partner, my brother-in-law, under his breath for setting him the task of directing me out of the village. Quite clearly, he had not only failed but had been caught in the act. Wayne had watched me all the way from the police station to the church but he did not have th nous to watch his own back. When he was evicted from the village he would have to face my sister to tell her of his failure. It would be the last thing she wanted to hear and he knew that she would fret about my safety. He was willing to keep an eye on me but now, to his dismay, he had been discovered. He had no idea what his fate would be.

‘You’d better come with me,’ suggested the policeman firmly. ‘You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!’

They walked towards the police station with Wayne claiming that he was an innocent party even though he knew that his pleas would fall on deaf ears. When he faced the desk sergeant, his resolve disappeared entirely and he told him that he was there to shepherd me out of the village at the request of my sister. It was the only way he could force them to evict me and fulfil his task. The police recognised that he was telling the truth. What puzzled them was the fact that Wayne had dressed as one of the villagers and he had no explanation as to why he had done so. They searched his pockets to find a mobile telephone and some documents identifying him to be a detective and forced him to sign a statement of the facts before making him sign a further document to say that he would never return to the village again. As far as Wayne was concerned, once was enough but, despite his weakness, he was determine to carry out the task which had been delegated to him even if it meant he would place himself in danger. He was escorted to the edge of the village, down the sandy lane, and he stood there for a while thinking about his situation. All had not been lost for he was delighted to have retained his mobile telephone and he removed it from his pocket to contact his partner.

‘Tim,’ he began solemnly when the call was answered. ‘We have a problem. Sam’s car was vandalised and it was towed to a garage for repair.’

‘How long will it take for it to be repaired? You know how Mary feels about it. She wants him out of there as soon as possible.’

‘It’s been repaired but I don’t know if Sam’s aware of it,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been tracking him and it seems he was taken to the police station and then went on his own to the church.’

‘The church!’ echoed Tim. With an expression of concern in his voice. ‘Is he looking for sanctuary? Do you think we should call the police?’

‘I don’t think he’s in any danger at the moment. Give me some time to sort things out. I don’t think you should say anything to Mary... she would only worry.’

‘Right, keep in touch. If she knew that he was still there, she’d blow a fuse. I won’t say anything to her for the moment.’

Wayne closed his eyes tightly with horror. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he uttered, closing the conversation quickly.

He returned the mobile telephone to his pocket, looked to see that no one was about, and then went to hide behind a clump of trees. He knew that if he was caught this time they would throw the book at him. His nerves began to fray as he thought about his plight. Numbwinton was so remote that no one outside it would know of any misdemeanours that might take place to a strange who had signed a document to say he would never return there.

***

Eventually, having seen the priest, for reasons I was unable to fathom, I wandered along the path to the doctor’s surgery. This was yet another mystery as to why I had to meet all the senior people in the village to let them interview me. As I had been told, it was located about two hundred yards away from the church, I hesitate at the front door, inhaling deeply, and then went inside. The receptionist looked up at me as I entered and she recognised me right away.

‘Ah, the stranger!’ she uttered approvingly. ‘You’ve come to see Dr. Wynn.’

‘Dr. Wynn,’ I repeated slowly. ‘Yes... but I don’t know why I’ve been sent to see him. I don’t need a doctor. The priest told me to come.’

‘Everyone must see the doctor,’ she continued firmly. ‘It’s vital that they do.’ She rose from her seat and went to another door. ‘I’ll see if he’s free.’

She left the room and I sat in a very plain office with no magazines and no pictures on the wall displaying ailments or cures. The budget of the village spent on decorations was very frugal to say the least. Nothing was ever wasted or spent indiscriminately. As I waited there, I realised that I was the only person in the room. No one else was ill or sick or had any need of medication. I presumed that perhaps the lack of stress had something to do with it for peace reigned in the village all the time. No one needed to see a doctor... although I considered that the idea was nonsensical. There were always people with migrain, twisted ankles, stomach problems and the like... but none of them in Numbwinton from the look of it.

The receptionist returned shortly and held the doctor’s door open for me so that I could enter. The physician was a young man of about thirty years of age. He sat calmly at his desk with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

‘Come in!’ he greeted amiably. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ I told him sitting in the chair opposite him. ‘I should explain that I had a full medical check-up a week ago when I left the army. I’m as fit as a fiddle.’

‘Good,’ he said flatly. ‘But we have our own methods here. Let’s start with taking a blood sample.’

I was surprised that he didn’t want to check my pulse, my breathing my heart or anything else. He simply asked for a blood sample. He produced a hypodermic needle and asked me to roll up the shirt sleeve of my left arm. Without hesitation, he injected the needle into my vein and withdrew a small amount of blood which surged into a phial. He then placed some cotton-wool over the wound and stuck a plaster over it before calling for the receptionist who came quickly into the room. He passed the phial of blood to her as though it was precious.

‘Get this checked out immediately,’ he ordered curtly.

She nodded, taking it from him before disappearing through the doorway. The doctor then went on to give me a thorough examination. As he did so, I looked around the surgery at the blank walls. There were no framed certificates hanging there to prove that the man was actually a doctor.

‘Where did you do your doctorate?’ I asked inquisitively.

’I grew up in this village,’ he informed me candidly. ’I studied hard and became the doctor here.’

’Without taking the examinations of the medical institutions?’ I posed with concern, my heart beating a little faster.

‘If you’re thinking about a medical certificate to prove my qualifications, forget it,’ he returned bluntly. ‘It’s only a piece of paper. It’s the same if you get married... the marriage certificate’s only a piece of paper. It doesn’t prove that a person’s going to be a good husband or wife. The same applies to the medical profession. Just because you’re passed as a doctor by a medical board doesn’t mean you’re a good doctor.’

I was appalled to learn that he had never passed a test with an authorised medical board. Nonetheless, I believed that he was a physician who knew what he was doing. After all, he was the only doctor to eleven hundred people in the village so he had to be good.

‘What happens if someone needs an operation?’ I asked him. ‘Do you call an ambulance to take them to a nearby hospital?’

‘No one goes out of this village to a hospital,’ he told me adamantly. ‘I do all the operations myself.’

‘And clearly you’re successful,’ I ventured, ‘because there are no burial sites of failures in the church graveyard,’

He dismissed the comment out of hand and I wondered how he was able to cope with an operation that took four or five hours on his own and yet still deal with patients who came to see him at the surgery. However, it was a hypothetical notion and it was his problem not mine. When he had finished, he made some notes, placing them in a new folder, before looking up at me.

‘Well you seem unusually fit,’ he told me with a slight smile touching his lips. ‘Is there anything you wish to ask me with regard to your health or your diet?’

I shook my head slowly. ‘I don’t think so,; I replied.

At that moment, the door opened and the receptionist came in waving a sheet of paper in her hand which she handed to the doctor. He glanced at it, nodded, and she left the room.

His jaw moved slightly from side to side as he looked directly at me. ‘It appears that you have more iron in your blood than is deemed necessary,’ he told me seriously. ‘Iron’s a metallic element normally found in red pigment or haemoglobin of the blood, It enables the blood to absorb and carry oxygen to the cells in the body. But it cannot be removed through normal means of disposal and, if left to accumulate, it can shorten a person’s life by anything up to twenty years.’

I became alarmed at his findings. ‘What’s the remedy?’ I was morbidly disturbed as I waited for his answer.,

‘We have one here,’ he went on. ‘It consists of taking two tablets every day... one in the morning, the other in the evening. But you’ll need to go on taking them for the rest of your life.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad’ I responded with relief. I had in mind the necessity of an operation or perhaps something worse such as the removal of my spleen.

‘I’ll prescribe them for you, ‘ he went on. ‘If you go to the pharmacy tomorrow you can pick up a month’s supply.’

My body went rigid at the term he used. The pharmacy! Why did it conjure up such horrendous notions?

‘Where is this pharmacy?’ I asked, holding my breath for the answer.

‘You’ll be told tomorrow morning,’ he replied blandly. ‘Now... I think you have to return to the police station. They’re expecting you back there.’

I wondered how he knew that to be as there were no telephones in the village and no other means of communication. Yet his tone was positive and I obeyed his command, rising to leave the surgery.

While I was being examined by the doctor, Wayne Austen sat on the stub of a tree staring at the small building though a pair of binoculars he had retrieved from his car. He could see a sign which signified that it was a doctor’s surgery but he couldn’t understand why I had gone in there voluntarily. After all, he was aware that I had recently left the army and would have had to have a medical before demobilisation. So why had I visited the village doctor? He wiped the perspiration from the back of his neck with a large white handkerchief, looking around surreptitiously to check that the policeman was not in the vicinity. Tension was rising within him and there was clearly no doubt about the elevation of his frustration.

***

When I left the doctor’s surgery, I heard a whistle from behind some trees, I looked across to see Wayne beckoning to me, noting the worried expression on his face.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he reproached irately as I walked towards him.

‘I’m making progress,’ I replied with an element of amusement in my voice, I had no idea that he was living on a knife-edge.

‘You’re supposed to be leaving this place in a hurry!’ he went on urgently. ‘Your car’s been repaired... don’ waste time... go to the garage and get the hell out of here!’

‘I told you, I’m making good progress,’ I advanced seriously. ‘They’re beginning to accept me as one of them.’

‘You’re putting your head into a noose,’ he pressed with concern, becoming angrier by the minute. ‘You know what Mary’s going to say if you stay!’

‘Mary has her own life; I have mine!’ I retorted sharply. ‘If you don’t like what I’m doing get out of here. In any case, I’ve met Bridget McBain.’

He stared at me with wide open eyes. ‘Who’s Bridget McBain?’

’The most beautiful woman on earth.’

’You’ve been bewitch,’ he uttered grimly. ’They’ve case a spell on you.’

’And it’s a wonderful spell,’ I told him jubilantly.

He stared at me bleakly for a few moments, looking around to check that he was safe. ’Well it’s up to you. I’m getting out of here and to hell with you Sam Ross. This place is evil but you do what you want to do and see where it gets you!’

He looked around quickly again and then made for the exit to the village soon leaving the sandy lane far behind him. I couldn’t really blame him for giving up on me. He had given me enough warnings and I knew that my car had been repaired and was waiting for me in the garage. But I was still fascinated by the thought that the village held an important secret, as well as Bridget McBain, to bind me into staying.

Wayne had only just left when I came face-to-face with the Secretary who had introduced me to Townsend at the meeting at the village hall. She stormed towards me with a face like thunder, her lips turning into a snarl as she approached.

‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave here immediately,’ she snapped angrily.

‘Not you as well,’ I muttered under my breath before addressing her. ‘What did I do to upset you?’ I retaliated, surprised at the anger in her tone.

‘Never you mind!’ she reacted irately. ‘Just get out of this village and don’t come back!’

‘What about the population number,’ I advanced cheekily. ‘What are you going to do if I leave here?’

‘I don’t care about that,’ she continued in the same vein. ‘We don’t want strangers here. So get out... now!’

‘And what about Bridget McBain,’ I asked, trying to make some sense of the woman’s anger. ‘What’s she going to say to that?’

‘I don’t care!’ ranted the Secretary. ‘The important thing is for you to leave!’

‘And what if I don’t?’ I was determined to face out the woman who clearly disliked me intensely.

I wondered why she was so angry at me. I recognised that sometimes said and did the opposite to the way they actually felt. In actual face, did the Secretary, who was obviously married because she wore a wedding ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, feel sexually attracted to me but failed to be able to do anything about it? Now that Bridget McBain had surfaced, it may have been too much for her to accept. On the other hand, she may have simply disliked me intensely as a person and as a stranger.

‘What if you don’t?’ she repeated sullenly. ‘Then you’ll be branded as a stranger and dealt with accordingly.’

‘Are you going to put me back into prison or perhaps do something worse,’ I riposted with amusement. My response seemed to anger her even further for she was unable to speak for a few moments.

‘You won’t be put back into prison,’ she went on. ‘You’ll be challenged by the pharmacy.’

The word made my blood freeze in my veins. There it was again... the pharmacy! What did she mean by the remark that I would be challenged there? Now I was beginning to narrow down the secret so carefully hidden in the village. It definitely had something to do with the pharmacy and I suddenly realised that I was going there in the morning to collect a supply of tablets. I shuddered to think what effect they would have on me. I mean I had only the word of an unconventional doctor that I had too much iron in my blood. Was that yet another untruth like the one told to me by the priest? Then I asked an innocuous question which continued to bother me.

‘Where is the village inn here?’ I enquired flatly, expecting a reasonable answer to my request.

‘There isn’t one,’ she replied sharply. ‘No one in the village imbibes alcohol. It’s vitally importing that we do not drink it.’

‘Why not? People like their little tipple.’ I was becoming impatient with the issue. ‘Surely the life of every village lives in the public house... it’s the local inn!’

‘Not in Numbwinton it doesn’t!’ she snarled as though I had insulted her personally. ‘Why do you ask so many questions?’

‘Why is this village so different to any other in Britain?’ I cut in.

‘I’ll not even attempt to answer that one,’ she snapped ‘All I can tell you is to get away from here for your own safety.,... before it’s too late!’

Her comment was most sinister but, before I could ask her what she meant by that, she turned on her heel and walked away into the distance. I wasn’t angry at her insistence that I should leave the village. In fact it reinforced my will to remain. I could not understand why she should be so vehement about my departure.

It was time to have my evening meal and I made my way to the cafeteria. Before I arrived there, the young McBain boy came running towards me along the path. I expected him to run past me but he stopped as he reached me and took hold of my arm firmly.

‘Sir1’ he cried out in a squeaky voice. ‘You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help all of us! You must!’

‘What’s your name?’ I asked with concern. Surely there couldn’t be an emergency in Numbwinton with only me to deal with it. I looked around to check whether any of the houses were on fire but nothing led me to believe that this was so.

‘It’s Robert,’ he told me, breathing heavily from the effort of running along the path. ‘You must help me!’

‘You’re Robert McBain,’ I responded slowly. Bridget McBain’s son. What do you need me to help you with?’ Is it your homework?’ He suddenly went silent as though a curtain fell in front of his eyes and he became very uncertain of what he wanted to say. My words seemed to have knocked the stuffing out of him because he fell completely silent. ‘Come on, lad!’ I urged. ‘Spit it out! It’s no use bottling it up inside you!’

He shook his head. ‘No... I can’t tell you,’ he replied as though guided by an invisible force. ‘You wouldn’t believe me. You’re a stranger in the village. You wouldn’t understand.’

The hairs on the back of my head stood on end as anger began to rise within me. If anyone referred to me as a stranger again I would gladly throttle them.

‘Try me... I might understand.’ I retorted.

‘No... you wouldn’t! You’re a stranger!‘

’Goddam it!’ I swore. ‘I’m a Briton with every right to be here. Every right. I was born in this country, so I’m not a stranger!’ I turned to the boy so that he was facing me directly. ‘Now tell me what your problem is or forever hold your peace! I’ll not be messed about!’

He grimaced as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t find the right words, then he turned to run back along the path to his home. I followed him until I came to the McBain house and knocked on the door. Bridget answered and stared at me in surprise.

‘Is there something you want?’ she asked in her cool lilting manner that sent an emotional shiver running down my spine.

‘Your son, Robert, stopped me on my way to the cafeteria,’ I told her frankly. ‘He seemed very upset but he wouldn’t speak to me about it. Is he all right?’

‘Yes... he’s fine,’ she responded. ‘Come inside and see for yourself.’

I paused and then decided to take her up on the offer. There was no harm in having a cup of tea with the woman. She was so lovely to look at that it would be a pleasure to be in her company. She led me into the small lounge and sat opposite me. It was still strange to me to enter a room without a television set or a hi-fi, or a telephone and nothing electronic.

‘What do you do with yourself in the evenings?’ I asked politely.

‘I read, ‘ she replied. ‘There’s a wealth of good books here. On one evening each month there’s a dance at the village hall.’

‘Did you use to go there with your husband?’

‘No... he couldn’t dance. I sit listening to the music.’

‘You must miss him.’

‘Quite the contrary. Living with him was no fun at all. He gave up on me a long time ago.’

‘Surely not!’ I cut in with surprise. I could not imagine anyone giving up on a twenty seven year old woman who looked quite as beautiful. The man had to be insane or blind. ‘There’s something that’s bothering me,’ I carried on. ‘You have no electricity in the village, no motor vehicles and you’re self sufficient for food. But where does the money come to buy seeds and any goods you need to buy? Who pays for the goods and how do they do it without money?’

‘The benefactor looks after us,’ she said simply.

‘The benefactor?’ I echoed puzzled. ‘Who’s he?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied innocently. ‘You’ll have to ask Mr. Townsend that question if you want to know the answer.’

I started to become frustrated again because every avenue of enquiry seemed to branch off to another one. There were no straight answers to anything in this place!

‘When’s your husband’s funeral?’ I enquired trying to keep the conversation going.

‘He’s already been buried,’ she answered sadly. ‘They took his body away before you came.’

‘But isn’t there going to be a funeral. Some kind of a wake afterwards to celebrate his life?’

‘What for?’ she replied. ‘He’s dead and they buried him.’

I made a mental note to visit the churchyard to search for his grave the following day to determine that he had been buried there. It all sounded so weird.

‘How long were you married?’ I carried on. I assessed that the boy was eleven and that she was about twenty-seven, so she had married when she was about sixteen or so.

‘Too long,’ she replied dourly which astonished me. Her comment indicated that she had little love for her late husband during the time they lived together.

I was lost for words for a while and then the boy entered the room. He stared at me bleakly from the doorway as though he wanted to trust me with his problem. His young voice rang out in my head. ‘You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help us! You must!’ If only he could bring himself to tell me what was troubling him!

‘This village puzzles me,’ I confided, trying to keep an even tone in my voice. ‘There’s no television, no computers, no dvds or hi-fis. No newspapers... no telephones... no village inn because no one’s allowed to drink... no cinema... everyone’s employed and no one leaves the village to go anywhere else. You tell me that a benefactor, whoever he might be, provides any money you need. It’s all so Victorian. I don’t get it.’

‘You don’t have to, Mr. Ross.,’ she told me casually. ‘You don’t live here. You’re not a member of our community.’

‘What would you say if I told you I intended to stay... despite the hostility shown to me by some of the folk?’

She stared at me for almost half a minute before replying.

‘Are you propositioning me, Mr. Ross?’ she ventured. ‘Do you think you might want to live with me here?’

Her question took my breath away. I would have loved to have said it but she did it for me. She had taken the bull by the horns and opened up our lives as easily as one handles a picnic on the grass,

‘Firstly, ‘ I began in a new light, ‘I want you to call me Sam. Secondly, it was the last thing in my mind to hitch up with a woman... not for some time yet anyway... but you are so attractive I want to take you in my arms and hug you day and night. I’m sorry that you’re grieving having just buried your husband...’

‘I’m not grieving,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m glad he’s gone. We actually disliked each other. The marriage was arranged many years ago much to my distaste. I was forced to marry him.’

‘I see, ‘ I managed to say. ‘I wanted to give you time to get over the shock. I didn’t want to take advantage. I mean the moment I saw you, I became besotted. You are truly beautiful and I’m in love with you.’ There... I’d spoken my mind and there was no doubt she knew how I felt about her.

She smiled at me wistfully. ‘I think you’re very handsome, You have a strong face, a good physique, and I feel that I can trust you.’

‘What are you saying?’ I challenged not quite grasping the nettle.

‘I think it would be a good idea for us to live together to see whether we could make a match,’ she returned brazenly. ‘That’s if you’re willing to become part of our community. You realise that once we start a relationship, you will not be allowed to leave the village for any reason whatsoever.’

‘Why’s that?’ I demanded. ‘Why Won’t I be allowed to leave?’ I became quite concerned with her comment.

‘I can’t answer that question at this particular time,’ she responded although I knew that she could. ‘There’s a reason for everything and if you remain here you’ll find out eventually.

‘I’m sure I will,’ I said, rising as I decided it was time for me to leave.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked with surprise showing on her face.

‘To the cafeteria to get myself something to eat,’ I replied truthfully.

She stared at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘It’s closed,’ she informed me. ‘The cafeteria closes early here.’ I grimaced which cause her to laugh. ‘’You’re quite amusing, did you know that? I’ve watched your expressions and I think they’re funny.’

I didn’t know how to take that remark but I let it pass without responding. ‘Is there no other place to dine?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a smile touching her lovely lips. ‘You can dine here with me and Robert.’

‘I wouldn’t want to put you out,’ I advanced stupidly although I was becoming hungry and the idea sounded good.

‘You won’t starve in my house, I assure you. And there’s something else. Where are you going to sleep tonight?’

‘I was going back to the police station to ask if they’d let me stay in one of the cells.’

‘You’ll sleep here,’ she said flatly. You can either sleep in my bed with me or on the couch here. It’s quite comfortable.’

I wondered how she knew that but recognised she had probably argued with her husband and slept on it. Nonetheless, this woman wasted no time dithering about political correctness. I could sleep with her in her bed. A wave of lust started to envelop me and I paused to recover my poise. I was sitting in a house with a very attractive widow who obviously regarded me as her next catch. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be captured so quickly. It was all going too fast for me.

After dinner, I helped Robert with his homework using a pencil and paper. The history he had learned went up to the Boer War and no further. He had no idea about the First or the Second World War. As far as he was concerned they hadn’t happened. With the mathematics, I rued the fact that there was no calculator and I had to work out the figures in my head.

At eight o’clock that evening, Robert went to bed, leaving me alone with his mother. We talked generally although I avoided asking any awkward questions which I knew would bring me no cogent answers, We spoke as a man and a woman ready to court each other until an hour later Bridget yawned and looked slightly tired.

‘Are you going to sleep with me or on the couch,’ she asked wearily.

I thought for a moment, wondering whether I would weaken, before I remembered that her husband had been buried that day.

‘Let me take the couch for tonight,’ I uttered kicking myself for the missed opportunity.

‘I’ll fetch you a blanket,’ she offered. She left the room to return with one a few minutes later.

We stood staring at each other for a brief instant and I thought that she was going to kiss me but the moment quickly passed and neither of us moved to commitment. She was clearly in the forefront of my mind by now due mainly to both of us flirting with each other. It embarrassed me to feel so close to a woman who had just buried her husband but she told me it had been ana arranged marriage, one which she resented.

I undressed, taking off all my clothes, and made myself as comfortable as possible on the couch. It seemed to me to be a size too small but beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was far better than the flea-bitten straw mattress in the police cell I fell asleep and started to dream to be awoken at two-thirty in the morning. There was a slight rustle and, having been on alert in Basra for two -and-a-half years, I awoke in an instant pulling the blanket away and reaching for my non-existent machine-gun. I looked up to see Bridget entered the room. She was wearing a dressing-gown and she moved towards me swiftly. As she opened the garment, I could see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. She flipped it off her shoulders and embraced me firmly. The slenderness of her body almost caused me to drool and the adrenalin surged rapidly through my body. I caressed her full soft breasts, rubbing my fingers slowly over her nipples. Her head went back in ecstasy and I stroked the back of her neck which seemed to be one of her erogenous zones. I ran my finger down her spine which tended to heighten her sensitivity/ The foreplay continued for a while and I kept kissing her all over her body before her soft lips brushed against mine, Eventually, I moved my hand downwards between her legs, gently running my forefinger over her clitoris. She sighed and gasped as I did so and I continued the action which excited her greatly. After a short while, her hand came between my legs to hold me firmly, stroking me gently before placing it inside her. We moved up and down in harmony for quite some time, our passions rising to elevated heights, until mutual satisfaction occurred at the very same time. Bridget uttered a gasp of unholy euphoric emotion while, at the same moment, I felt a tremendous sensation of relief. We hugged each other warmly, basking in the moonlight of sensuality, continued to kiss and embrace, staring at each other’s silhouette in the darkness.

‘That was wonderful!’ she gasped joyously. ‘Can we do it again?’

‘If you want to,’ I told her hesitantly. I wasn’t certain it would be quite as lasting or exciting as the first time. ‘You’re very experienced for a young woman,’ I muttered, kissing her on her ear. She laughed loudly. ‘And we’re crazy to have unprotected sex. That session was so emotional, so perfect, you might have become pregnant.’

‘Pregnant!’ she guffawed. ‘At my age!’

‘What do you mean? Everything she said was an enigma to me.

‘How old do you think I am?’ She began to throw caution to the winds in her euphoria.

I paused briefly to reflect. ‘I’m pretty good at working out people’s ages. I reckon you’re about twenty-seven or twenty-eight.’

‘Well you’d better think again,’ she revealed much to my horror. ‘I’m eighty-seven nearly eighty-eight.’

I began to laugh, hugging her even more tightly. ‘Now who’s the funny one,’ I joked easily. ‘I ought to spank your bottom for having me on. Now come on! Twenty-seven or twenty-eight?’

‘No,’ she persisted shaking her head defiantly. ‘I am eighty-seven.’

Her voice had the touch of certainty which sent shivers down my spine. I released her quickly so that she fell on to the floor, staring in the dim light at her face. I could see from her expression that she was telling the truth but I had difficulty in processing the information. She looked so young... so vibrant... so young. And then I remembered that her son had told me he was forty-two years old. It was enough to make my hair turn white. What the hell was going on in this place? I had been in Basra facing death every day being shot at and in constant danger of being killed or maimed by a land mine. However it was nothing like the situation I was facing in this village, I stood up covering myself with the blanket. She could have been my grandmother. There was no way I could bring myself to make love with her again. Knowing that she was eighty-seven, I was certain not to be able to close my eyes and get to sleep again that night.

‘Why do you say you’re that old,’ I managed to say, hoping that she might withdraw the comment and tell me it was all a joke.

‘Because it’s the truth. I was born almost eighty-eight years ago.’ She seemed to be quite stunned at my reaction without understanding my concern. After all, her sexual activity was that of a young woman.

‘This is all a wind-up, isn’t it?’ I exclaimed with all the adrenalin draining out of my body. ‘I mean we made wild passionate love with each other. It was wonderful. The best performance of a twenty-seven year old woman. What’s going on, Bridget?’

‘I can’t tell you any more,’ she insisted, becoming upset by my adverse attitude. ‘Please don’t ask me. Al I want is for you to make love to me again.’

After her declaration, making love to an eighty-seven year old woman was the last thing I wanted to do. Then she realised that she had been too audacious in revealing her age that, against her better judgement, she decided to retract the statement.

‘I was only kidding,’ she laughed, pushing her hand across my chin playfully. ‘How could I be eighty-seven when I look like this? Look at my face, look at my skin!’

I looked at her suspiciously not knowing what to think. She had been so positive in her declaration that, now she had retracted the statement, I wondered whether she was that old. She certainly looked no more than twenty-seven.

‘Come on!’ she urged laying back on the couch seductively. ‘Come back to me again, handsome, I want you!’

I hesitated for a few moments to thing the matter through. She couldn’t really be an old woman. It was impossible. Perhaps it was the result of her strange sense of humour to tell him that but it really threw him for a time. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and moved back to the couch. What the hell! Whatever her age, she still performed like a twenty-seven year old and I was in for the kill. As expected, our performance wasn’t half as exciting like the first time but it was enjoyable nonetheless, tending us to become closer as our flesh pressed together and we became excited at each other’s touch.

In due course, after we had made passionate love again, she took me by the hand and led me up to the bedroom. I shuddered to think that she had lain there with her late husband perhaps having numerous sexual sessions over the years. However I recognised that it was all in the past and that there was out future to consider. I crept into bed with her, fondling her breasts and kissing her all over her body. She cooed and sighed as out love-making progressed to higher levels and I felt the adrenalin flowing back into my body. I realised that she would wear me out by the light of day but the woman was insatiable and there was still some power left in my engine. In any case, resting in a comfortable warm bed, embracing her so that we were united as one, I didn’t care what age she was. Making love to her was an emotional experience... magic for both of us because we were so compatible, and the relationship we had formed in such a short time was something I wished to continue. To my mind, she was lovely, beautiful, erotic, slender, vibrant, lithe... and whatsmore she was in the nude in bed with me!