“I haven’t got thirty thousand pounds!”
“Then find it - and quick. Leave it where I said at midnight, and don’t look back. But call the Police and you’ll never see your husband alive again - ever.” The line went dead.
Beth sat down on the bed to think. Twenty thousand pounds was a lot of money. She and Jack had just that amount in the bank in a joint account; but that was their savings and Jack’s private pension money. A terrible thought swept through her mind: was Jack worth it? What if they did kill him - what difference did it make? She would be thirty thousand pounds better off and could go on a long holiday to forget about the whole situation. But how could she think like this - it was her husband’s life she was playing with! What about calling the Police? No, the man said he’d kill Jack if she involved them, and he sounded serious - deadly serious. And you never know what these terrorists can do.
Unthinkingly, she began to tidy the room - putting back the clothes in the drawers and making up the bed. Housework always helped her think clearer. Then she came across a picture of them both when they got married - and another with the children. Loving thoughts of him flooded back - all the memories of the happy days they had spent together in the past. And she knew what she had to do.
Downstairs, she telephoned a taxi to take her to the bank. She couldn’t turn her back on Jack now - not after all these years together. At her local branch, the assistant had to call the bank manager to authorise the withdrawal of so much money at short notice.
“You do realise that you’ll lose a month’s interest if you take this money out now, Mrs Brown.”
“Yes - that’s fine, I don’t mind.”
“All right, the cashier will get the money for you. But because of new banking regulations, I’ll have to ask the purpose of this withdrawal.”
“Oh, I see, yes. Well, it’s our silver wedding anniversary this year, and I wanted to treat Jack, my husband, to a special holiday - a world cruise. It’s a surprise, though, so please don’t tell him about it.”
“No, of course not… I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you. I hope you have a lovely time together.”
Beth collected the thirty thousand in fifty pound notes, smiled sheepishly at the cashier and manager, and shuffled out of the bank to the waiting taxi.
That evening, when it was dark, she surreptitiously slipped out of the house, and walked down the road towards the Chip Shop with a brown paper bag containing the money, stuffed into her shopping bag. Depositing the money behind the drain-pipe in the alley as instructed, she took a quick look around, then walked home as quickly as she could.
Back in the house, she flopped exhausted into bed. It had been a long day and a bit of a nightmare to say the least. She hoped she had done the right thing.
The next morning, as she was in the bathroom, the doorbell rang. She quickly patted her face dry and tip-toed downstairs, still in her dressing gown. Through the opaque glass front door, she could see no-one outside; so she took off the chain, unlocked the door carefully and looked outside. Just to the right of the front path, lying on the wet grass in his pyjamas, was her husband.
“Jack!” She called out and ran to his side. There was a cut on his forehead with congealed blood.
“You’ve been bleeding - are you all right?”
“I am now love, now I’m back”
“What happened to you - what did they do to you? Why did they take you?”
“Let’s go inside and have some tea - I’ll tell you all about it”
Inside, Jack told Beth about the kidnap - the struggle, how he cut his head, the mind games and the intimidation. And how he was so glad to be back. Beth told him how worried she’d been, and how much it made her appreciate him.
“So you must have given them the money, Beth?”
“Yes - yes of course. I had to. I couldn’t go to the Police, and I couldn’t let them do anything to you.”
They embraced each other in a warm hug and kissed.
“It’s good to be back, Beth.”
“It’s good to have you back, Jack - it really is.”
That night, they made love for the first time in five years. Afterwards, Jack turned to Beth while they held each other tight.
“You know Beth… this abduction was probably the best thing that could have happened to us.”
“I was thinking the same thing Jack. I did wonder before why on earth anyone would expect ransom money for you. But now I remember what a great lover you are - I can understand it.”
They smiled at each other, and kissed again in a passionate embrace.
*
A week later, Jack suggested they had a take-away, instead of Beth cooking that evening.
“What a good idea Jack - and we could open that bottle of wine I got for our silver wedding anniversary.” Jack looked puzzled.
“But that was four years ago.”
“Yes I know - but don’t tell the bank manager that,” she said smiling.
Inside the Take-Away, Jack accepted and paid for the food he’d ordered. The waitress gave him his change.
“Oh before you go, Mr Brown, the Manager has something for you.” A squattish man came out smiling.
“Don’t forget the ‘Special’ you ordered,” he said with a thick Russian accent.
“Thank you - I won’t,” Jack said accepting the brown paper package. He opened it up, looking at the wads of fifty-pound notes, and took out one bundle.
“For your trouble, Sergei.”
“Oh no, it was no trouble - it was good fun in fact! I hope I didn’t scare your wife too much - and I’m sorry about the cut on your head; but you did say it had to be realistic. Did it have the desired affect?”
“It did Sergei, it certainly did.”
* * *
Jamie
Jim opened the front door with his key, as usual, and entered the house.
“Hi Linda - it’s only me.”
“I’m in the kitchen,” she called back.
Jim removed his black overcoat and red striped scarf, hanging them carefully on the coat-stand in the hallway, and moved into the kitchen, where his wife was taking something out of the oven.
“Mmm - that smells good!”
“It’s for tomorrow,” she said flicking his fingers away, “so hands off!” He grabbed her waist instead, cuddling her.
“Actually, I fancy something else... I’ve missed you.” She reacted to his touch immediately.”
“So have I...” They began to embrace, then a thought struck Jim, and he pulled away for a moment.
“Where’s Jamie?”
“Who’s Jamie?”
“Very funny. Our son of course.”
“Oh yes, well, you’ll have to wait at least nine months for one of those - and we’d better get started tonight, if you’re in such a hurry.” She tried to kiss him again, but he pushed her back.
“Linda, what are you talking about - what’s wrong with you? I just want to know where Jamie is - our nine-month old child. Be serious for a minute.”
“Jim, have you been drinking? I don’t know what you’re talking about - you’re not making any sense. I know you’d like a child - but we don’t have one, you know we don’t. So what’s this all about?” She stared at him - and he glared back. Anger and confusion coursed through Jim’s veins. What was going on? This didn’t make any sense. He turned on his heels and went into the lounge, then upstairs to the bedroom.
His search became more and more frantic, louder and louder, as he pushed furniture around in a desperate attempt to find his son, or at least some signs of him. There was nothing. He ran downstairs back to the kitchen.
“He’s at your mother’s, and you didn’t want to say - is that it?”
“Jim - you’re out of your mind...” She went into the hallway to pick up the phone. But he grabbed the receiver out of her hand and slammed it down.
“You’re not phoning anyone until I get answers.”
“Get away from
me Jim. I don’t know what’s got into you, but if you don’t calm down, I’m going to call the doctor - or the police.”
Jim froze where he was. Linda really didn’t seem to know what he was talking about - how could this be? He went into the lounge to think. Pouring a large whisky from the drinks cabinet, he paced the floor. Yesterday, he had a son - a beautiful little boy. He could remember spending the whole of Sunday afternoon with Jamie whilst he watched the football. He even changed his nappy at half-time. Now his wife tells him he doesn’t have any children. Rationally, this couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t have a son, and then suddenly not have one. So either Linda was lying - in which case he had to find out why - or he’s having delusions, big delusions - and he needed help. But either way, he would just play along with her for the time being.
He returned to the kitchen, where Linda was sitting at the table - sobbing.
“Linda - I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me. It must be the stress at work. I’ve been putting in long hours recently - you know I have. And you’re right that I want a son - that’s why we’re saving up, isn’t it? I guess I should loosen up a bit.” He cuddled her and kissed her forehead. “Everything will be fine, I promise. There’s no need to phone anyone. I just need a bit of fresh air - all right?” She nodded without speaking, and he went to get his coat and scarf. As he closed the front door, Linda picked up the phone in the hall and dialled a number.
Outside, once he was out of sight of the house, Jim took out his mobile.
“Hello?” the voice said on the other end.
“Dave, thank god!”
“Jim, what’s up?”
“Tell me the name of my son,” he said.
“The name of your son? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”
“Just tell me - it’s important.”
“Well, Jamie of course. What’s the problem - can I help?”
“No - I just needed to hear that - thanks.” Jim rang off and went inside to find Linda watching television in the lounge.
“I’m back.”
She turned and smiled at him, saying nothing, and then returned to the TV.
Still with his coat on, he tiptoed upstairs to their bedroom and retrieved a case from under the bed in which he kept important documents. He had to get some evidence to confront Linda with, to prove that they had a son, to prove he wasn’t going mental. Jamie’s birth certificate - that would do it. He found his own and Linda’s, but not Jamie’s. In fact, no documents mentioning Jamie at all. She must have removed them, he thought. Then he went into Jamie’s room. It was completely empty – no toys or signs of his ever having been there. What was going on? Why was she doing this? He pulled his mobile out of his pocket again and redialled a number. The phone was engaged. He kept trying, until at last it rang. He whispered urgently into the phone.
“Dave - it’s Jim again. Look, I need you to come round right away - can you do that?”
“Well, if it’s important.... what’s this about Jim?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Okay - I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
He disconnected, put the phone back in his pocket, and sat thoughtfully on the bed. Soon after, the doorbell rang. Jim ran down the stairs, calling to Linda, “I’ll get it!” But at the door was a stranger, not Dave.
“Hello Jim - I’m Doctor Franklin. Your wife called me.” Linda was standing behind Jim in the Hallway.
“Please come in Doctor Franklin,” she said ignoring her husband.
“Thank you Linda.” The doctor passed a confused and exasperated Jim.
“Linda - what is this? I told you not to phone anyone...”
“Jim, would you mind making us a cup of coffee?” said the doctor.
Not knowing how to respond, and not wanting to over-react to the situation, Jim went to the kitchen. He tried to remain calm and focussed. He took a jar of instant coffee out of the cupboard and tried to spoon coffee into two cups. But his hands were shaking so much, the coffee went everywhere. He exploded, throwing the jar and spoon to the ground, and stormed into the lounge.
“Right - I want to know what’s going on - and I want answers now. What have you done with our son Linda - and why have you hidden his birth certificate and all his toys?”
Both the doctor and Linda looked up at Jim in alarm.
“Jim, we’ve been through all this…”
“Yes - but I’m not satisfied. I’m just not going to pretend I haven’t got a nine-month old son called Jamie while you tell this man that I need a psychiatrist. I don’t know why you’re playing this game, but I’m going to find out. And where’s our normal doctor anyway? I suppose he doesn’t exist either.”
“Mr Robinson, I don’t understand. Your wife called me because she’s been having pains in her abdomen. She said she thought it could be connected with her pregnancy - with which I concur.”
Jim was struck dumb. Pregnancy? How, when? They took precautions - they didn’t want another child so soon after the first. How could she be pregnant again? And why hadn’t she told him?
“Mr Robinson, are you all right?” the doctor asked.
Just then the doorbell rang again. In a daze, Jim turned slowly and went to answer the door. It was Dave. Jim just stared at him for a few seconds.
“Well, here I am.”
“Sorry Dave - come in. We’re in the lounge.” Dave followed Jim through and was greeted by Linda.
“Hello Dave - this is a surprise. Do you know Doctor Franklin?”
“Yes - he’s my GP. How are you Chris?”
“A little confused, I must say. I came round to see Mrs Robinson, but it’s Mr Robinson who doesn’t seem very well.”
“Look, there’s nothing wrong with me - absolutely nothing. I’m glad you’re here, Dave, because we can clear this whole bloody mess up - once and for all. I’m not the one who needs help - it’s her. Tell me: do I or do I not have a young son called Jamie.”
“Jim – what’s got into you? You’ve already asked me this tonight.”
“I know - but for the benefit of everyone here, I need you to say it again. I’ll explain in a moment.” Jim turned to Linda to watch her reaction.
“Well, all right then. Of course you don’t have a son called Jamie... or any other name. You don’t have any children Jim.”
Jim turned back to look at Dave in utter disbelief.
“What!”
“I know you’ve always wanted a son Jim. But until Linda has the child she’s carrying, you’ll just have to wait.” Jim could not believe what he was hearing.
“But… but you said on the phone… you confirmed earlier... why are you saying this now?” He grabbed Dave forcibly, pulling his face close, shouting at him. “Tell me what’s going on Dave.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Jim... you need help mate.”
Incensed, Jim picked up a heavy bronze statue with one hand, still holding Dave with the other.
“Tell me where Jamie is, or god help me, I’m going to smash your bloody head in.
Linda pleaded with her husband to let him go, whilst Doctor Franklin calmly reached into his pocket for his mobile phone and left the room.
“Don’t hurt him Jim - you’re not well!”
“You’re all in this together, aren't you Dave? You, Linda and Doctor Frankenstein.”
“Doctor Franklin, Jim; it’s Doctor Franklin,” said Linda.
Jim looked squarely at his brother. “There’s something not right here - and I’m going to get to the bottom of this, do you hear me Dave?” Then he turned to Linda “And you?” She nodded. Doctor Franklin returned, and tried to calm the situation.
“Why don’t we all sit down and relax. I’m sure we can work things out - there must be a sensible explanation.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” said Linda going to the kitchen.
Jim sat down on the sofa, exhausted by the events. He was in the middle of a nightmare and he just wanted to go t
o sleep and wake up with everything back to normal. Then the doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it,” said Dave getting up quickly. He returned a moment later with two uniformed Police officers.
“Good evening Mr Robinson - Jim isn’t it? We were just wondering if you’d like a little chat - nothing serious.”
Jim suddenly felt trapped; he had to get away. For all he knew, the Police were in on this too. He leapt up out of his chair, but the officers blocked his exit; and while he struggled in their arms, the doctor took out a prepared hypodermic needle from his bag and pushed it into Jim’s arm. The effect was instantaneous, and his body went limp in their arms. As the policemen dragged Jim out of the door with the doctor’s help, one of the officers turned to Linda.
“We’ll take good care of him, Mrs Robinson - don’t worry.”
“Thank you officer,” she said tearfully.”
Once she’d closed the door, she turned to Dave, putting her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. They smiled devilishly at each other, then ravenously embraced.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said.
“You don’t know what it’s been like, putting up with him when I longed for you,” she replied.
“But it worked, didn’t it?” he said.
“Oh yes, it worked all right. Let’s go and get Jamie.
* * *
The Western
“I told you to get the hell outta here. Now what part of the words ‘beat it’ don’t ya understand, dumbhead?”
I glared back at the cowboy with the three-day old stubble and greasy black hair.
“I guess the next thing you’re gonna say is, ‘this town ain’t big enough for the both of us’, huh?”
“You took the words right outta ma mouth. So what are yer waitin’ fer?”
I turned to Sam the barman, who nodded and poured me a straight bourbon. Leaving the drink on the bar I picked up my Stetson and walked slowly towards the greasy cowboy who stood between me and the door. I stopped inches from his weather-beaten face and scowled.
“All of a sudden, I don’t like the smell of this town. It’s all yours cowboy.” I pushed past him towards the swing doors, catching the smell of stale beer and cheap tobacci on his breath. “And one more thing: have a drink on me. It’s the last one you’ll get in this part of town.” I hit the dusty street, leaving behind jeers and laughter from the cowboy’s sidekicks. I paused, and then returned to the Saloon, leaning on the doors - just as the cowboy had downed the whisky in one.