I’ll tell you no lies Read online

  Jayne was just waiting for her to come of age, for their relationship to be acceptable in the eyes of the law, if not necessarily the eyes of their families, friends or colleagues. At the moment she was treading a thin line between love and legality which often made her feel dizzy thinking about it.

  In June of 2007 Lucy made the fifth visit that year to John and Steph. She was becoming quite proficient in front of camera and was now attracting a lot more attention from the major model agencies. Stein personally made sure that the people who needed to know about her talent knew who she was.

  Stein had become totally at ease with John’s ability behind the camera; he was pushing him into situations that no photographer so young had ever found themselves in before now. John was thriving on it; his name was now high on people’s lists of favourite photographers, even surpassing Stein on some lists.

  Stein was slowing down, going into semi-retirement, concentrating on other projects. He’d made Lucy one of his projects. Not only was he going to give the world John Kirkpatrick, a truly talented photographer, he was also going to give them Lucy Kirkpatrick, a truly talented model, both discovered and nurtured by Stein.

  Marie had other things on her mind in June of 2007. She would have the house to herself for the whole week of Lucy’s half term holiday. She decided however that she didn’t want to spend it on her own. Simon would stay for the whole week. With Simon being a teacher he also had the same half term holiday and they would be able to indulge themselves, however they chose to, without fear of interruption. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

  Lucy rang on Saturday afternoon to tell Marie that she’d arrived safely, John had picked her up at Heathrow as usual and that they were going out that night to see a movie and have a pizza.

  “Okay, Lucy. That sounds great. Me and Simon are thinking of spending a couple of days in Grasmere at the Wordsworth, we’ll have a chance to do some walking, maybe even carry on up to Scotland for a couple of days in Edinburgh.”

  “That sounds good, mum. You have some fun.” Lucy said.

  “Oh we’ll try our hardest. Give my love to John and Steph. I’ll speak to you soon, Lucy, ‘bye.”

  “Bye, mum.” responded Lucy

  Marie had no intention of going to Grasmere or Edinburgh. She hadn’t been sure how Lucy would take to the thought of Simon staying the week in her house, muscling in on her territory less than six months after they’d been introduced and only just over a year since her dad had died. Marie came up with the lie to save Lucy from having to think about it. Lucy wouldn’t have minded though had she known, after all she had a much bigger secret than that, several much bigger secrets than that.

  Saturday evening, whilst Lucy John and Steph were tucking into a char-grilled chicken and pepperoni pizza with anchovies and extra cheese, Marie was discussing the possibility of trying out bondage with Simon for the first time in their relationship. When she showed him the leather covered wrist and ankle restraints she’d bought the previous week he was convinced that now would be as good a time as any for life to take on one more perverted little twist. He gave a silent prayer to god that he’d found this remarkable woman at the peak of her sexuality.

  She’d bought a new bed shortly after David had died. Their bed had been less than a year old but try as she might she just didn’t feel right sleeping in the same bed that her husband had committed suicide in. A new bed had been delivered shortly afterwards with an antique style wrought iron headboard and footboard; perfect for the kinkier couple that might feel the need to tie each other up occasionally in order to really get the blood flowing to places where normal sex just doesn’t reach. This was a real bonus since she’d only bought the bed to go with her new designs for the room.

  At around nine o’clock that same evening Marie was feeling the thrill, for the very first time in her life, of giving her body up to the total control of another human being. They’d agreed that rough sex would not play any part in their little game. This was to be simply a pure voluntary submission from one to the other, the ultimate act of sexual trust between two people.

  Just thinking of it gave her goosebumps. Tied to the bed, legs and arms spread wide she gave herself willingly, her only stipulation was no pain, other than that he could do whatever he pleased, she’d been trembling with anticipation for days.

  Simon wasn’t doing such a bad job of it either. She’d had two orgasms so far and he hadn’t used anything other than his hands, his tongue, and her complete lack of control. Her total submission and lack of control was as good an aphrodisiac as she’d had in a long time. This was what she yearned for, the excitement was incredible, and inside she was screaming with the pleasure of it all. Why hadn’t she discovered this pleasure thirty years ago?

  When Simon did finally decide that he couldn’t wait any longer and the time had come to enter her, his brain just seemed to explode, he couldn’t wait any longer. But this wasn’t an explosion because of the ecstasy of the situation, nor was it an explosion of joy at finally entering her; this was a different explosion altogether. As soon as he’d thrust his penis deep inside her, and she’d felt the stirrings of a third orgasm not too far away, his brain had suffered the massive and fatal rupturing of a completely unseen and unknown of aneurysm.

  So it was true to say that his brain did actually explode, or a small part of it did anyway, unfortunately for Simon the explosion happened just near the part of his brain that controlled his breathing function. Simon was unconscious at the time, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, his lungs just didn’t get the signal from his brain to take in another breath. Within a matter of minutes he was dead.

  It is held in popular belief that people in Simon’s circumstance can die instantly. If that was the way you wanted to go I’m sorry to disappoint but that wasn’t the case. Simon’s body took time to shut down, for his being to cease to exist. There had been no symptoms, nothing to say he was ill in any way. Nothing to say there was any reason why he shouldn’t be enjoying himself in the company of the woman he’d begun to develop loving feelings for at that particular point in his life.

  He’d actually died the way most people would prefer to die, not knowing anything of his imminent passing. He was just making his way through life as normal, well maybe bondage wasn’t normal for most people, and going out without too much pain or suffering. No lingering, slow, drawn out death for Simon. He would, however, have chosen a different time in life, say in forty years, and a different venue, say walking in a park in summer with the flowers in full bloom and people taking picnics whilst others walk their dogs.

  As it was he died playing tunes with Marie’s body, as good a way to die as any you might think, some would even say the ultimate way to die. But not when the woman you’re having sex with is tied to the bed by her wrists and ankles, and subsequently lying beneath nothing more than a fourteen stone slab of meat, the soul of which has just departed to prematurely meet its maker on a totally different plain.

  So what would you do? You’ve just come round to consciousness after having been head butted into unconsciousness by your boyfriend in his death throes. You wake to the understanding that you’re tied to a bed and can’t move. You’ve got your boyfriends body pinning you to the bed and what’s more his penis is still inside you, still in the act of making love. Only you’re unaware that from now on the only thing that’s ever going to make his penis stiff again is rigormortis.

  “Simon, wake up. What happened? This is really uncomfortable, Simon. Please wake up you’re hurting me. We agreed no pain, remember?” Marie groaned.

  It was only after a few minutes that Marie realised that Simon wasn’t breathing. Twisting herself to look at his face on the pillow over her right shoulder she saw the paleness of his skin and it reminded her of the last time she’d woken up to see skin so pale on the pillow next to her. David had been no more or less dead then than Simon was now, but at least then she’d been able to get up and summons help.

  Marie w
as a level-headed woman, she did what every other level-headed woman under the same circumstances would do, she cried at the death of her lover, and then she started to scream for her own life. Normally this would have worked just fine, she would obviously have been embarrassed with the circumstances of the rescue, who wouldn’t? But with your dead boyfriend lay on you it’s hard to get the breath to shout very loud. It also doesn’t help when you live in a detached house with your nearest neighbour situated just too far away to hear. And it doesn’t help when those same neighbours have just that morning flown to Italy to catch some sun with their son and daughter during the half term break.

  Basically she was fucked, and after three hours of shouting and trying to break free from the restraints she was only too well aware that she was fucked. Fortunately in early June the nights are warm enough to sleep naked with only your boyfriend’s body for cover, but Simon was getting colder and stiffer as time went on.

  Around two o’clock in the morning she started to cry with despair at the situation. Lucy or John could ring but she knew the phone was inches out of reach on the bedside cabinet. Why had she lied about going to Grasmere? They wouldn’t think anything was wrong, they’d just think she was enjoying herself with Simon. Well, Marie and Simon were inseparable now; that was one thing that couldn’t be denied by anybody.

  Marie woke with a start the next morning. She couldn’t believe she’d been asleep with Simon’s body for company. Thirst was something that followed shortly afterwards, that and the need to empty her bladder of the two bottles of wine she and Simon had shared the previous evening.

  She hadn’t wet the bed since she’d been four years old but now wasn’t the time to worry about her dignity, if she had any chance of surviving this nightmare her dignity would have to be challenged to its limit anyway when she was discovered. She let her bladder empty onto the bed, her piss soaking into the mattress; it was the only pleasure she could get out of the situation. She promised herself that in future she would sleep alone. This was just too much, men were good for sex but if she ever got out of this she was only doing it standing up in future, beds were for sleeping in, nothing else.

  Her thirst was much worse by the afternoon, shouting for help hadn’t helped. The shouting had all been to no avail. The worst moment for Marie came when she couldn’t stop thinking about having a long cool drink. She could see a glass of water on her bedside cabinet but couldn’t reach it. She then remembered the rule of fours. It just popped into her head like an unwelcome guest at a party you just haven’t got the nerve to turn away for fear of causing a scene.

  Four minutes without air.

  Four days without water.

  Four weeks without food.

  These were the times that the average person would live without the bare necessities to sustain life. She knew she was okay for air, it was bloody uncomfortable under Simon but at least she could breathe. Food wouldn’t be a problem either; Lucy was due back home the following Saturday. Water was the problem, Saturday was too far away and she would need a minor miracle to be found alive before then. She wished she hadn’t remembered the damned rule of fours, it put a timescale on her life and the timescale just wasn’t in her favour.

  It all became too much once again and the tears began to flow with the realisation that she might never see Lucy or John again. All this because she’d felt horny after watching a programme about sexual perversion late one night on channel 4 two weeks earlier. Bondage hadn’t seemed such a dangerous activity then, a little unusual maybe, but it wasn’t as if there was any harm in it, it wasn’t going to kill you for Christ’s sake.

  The phone rang three times on Sunday. If it had been Lucy she thought she wouldn’t ring again until Tuesday at the earliest, thinking that they'd probably gone for the two days to Grasmere. If she phoned Tuesday and didn’t get an answer she’d leave it until Thursday. By Thursday she thought she would probably be dead or close to it, unless her guardian angel was watching over her and she was rescued by some miracle.

  Monday afternoon at twenty past two was a particularly low point for Marie, gasping for a drink and going out of her mind her bowels remembered how to function. She shit herself, quite literally. The bedroom now had the heady aroma of one dead person and one dying person added to which was the stink of a mattress steeped in piss and covered in shit. This was not a pleasant room to end your life in.

  The phone rang again on Monday and Tuesday, once in the morning and once in the evening. By the second call Marie was struggling to swallow and was feeling uncomfortably hot, she’d not pissed since the previous evening and was getting cramps in her stomach and legs. Her body was beginning to shut down.

  The cramps continued through the night when she started to hallucinate, she saw David first, sat on the edge of the bed grinning at her. She had a long conversation with him during which he told her about how he’d been murdered by Lucy, how he knew that Marie herself was a lying bitch who’d been sleeping with Simon when he’d died and how he still loved her even so. He asked her why she hadn’t visited him since he died. He said it wasn’t a problem because she’d be joining him soon and they’d have all the time in the world then. He told her it was her time soon and he’d come back then, to help her take the trip.

  Wednesday night, just after eleven o’clock, was when Marie’s body finally went into shock. She died shortly afterwards and was so glad of the release when it came. More than four days after Simon’s death she also went to meet her maker, still tied to the bed where they had both died very different deaths. Simon’s death had been quick and relatively painless; Marie’s death very slow and very painful indeed.

  John had said he’d try phoning his mum again during Lucy’s flight back to Manchester but made sure she’d had enough money for a taxi home if mum didn’t make it on time. Lucy wasn’t worried; she’d been looking forward to seeing Jayne again and hadn’t been able to think of much else for the past two days.

  When Marie wasn’t there waiting for her she tried phoning home, got no reply then phoned John who hadn’t been able to get a reply either. With this she got into a taxi and made her way home totally unaware of the unexpected treat that fate had left for her when she got there.

  When she arrived home she could see Simon’s car parked on the drive, she wasn’t to know it hadn’t been moved in a week. She also didn’t realise that anything was amiss when she saw the pile of post on the floor. The thing that hit her first, and made her stop in her tracks, was the smell.

  Lucy, something’s not right here.

  You reckon? It smells like we’ve got a problem with the drains. It must have happened while mum’s been away and she’s only just got back. Jesus what is that smell?

  “Mum, are you in? What’s the smell?” Lucy shouted.

  No reply, perhaps they were in the garden keeping away from the stink in the house until someone showed up to sort it out. She made her way to the back of the house but she could tell the smell was coming from upstairs when she went passed the stairs, in a rush.

  There’s nobody in the garden, Lucy. It’s time to investigate I think. Let’s go see what it is that’s making that God awful smell.

  Okay, Sally-Anne. Let’s do it.

  With that Lucy climbed the stairs, gagging twice but just able to hold it down. The main bathroom was fine. The problem seemed to get worse the closer she got to her mum’s room. Opening the door slowly she was hit by a stench that made her empty her guts there and then. Gaining some composure she opened the door fully to look inside and having seen what was on the bed she fainted.

  She’d only been out for about fifteen seconds but what she’d seen she never wanted to see again. The air had been thick with flies and Simon’s skin had seemed to be moving. His skin hadn’t been moving though; it was the maggots that were moving over his flesh, and in and out of her mother’s open mouth. Lucy picked herself up ran down stairs and out of the front door to throw up again, this time though she was throwing up on empty and could onl
y manage to dry retch, down on all fours like a dog, on the front lawn.

  Lucy, I’m so sorry. You should never have to see your mother in that state, I think you need to contact John; he’ll know what to do. Come on let’s see if the Thompsons are back from holiday yet, they’ll help.

  The next few hours passed in a daze. John had spoken to Lucy briefly and decided the only place for him to be now was with his sister in Manchester. The situation was going to need some sorting out; Lucy was still a minor, only turning sixteen in six months. Where would she stay, who would be her legal guardian?

  These were all questions that would need answering in the next few weeks, but prior to that he needed to make his sister feel safe again, help her to get over the nightmare she’d witnessed, if anyone could ever truly get over seeing something like that.

  When John arrived Lucy wasn’t home, a team from the scene of crimes unit was just finishing off in Marie’s bedroom, the bodies having been moved an hour ago. John was grateful he hadn’t arrived any earlier.

  The police had contacted a social worker and she’d been with Lucy and Jayne in Jayne’s flat for the last hour trying to find out exactly what Lucy’s situation was. On top of the shitty day she’d already had the social worker was suggesting she might have to stay in a care home until the situation was clear. At that point Jayne volunteered her spare bedroom; she was after all Lucy’s teacher and as such a trustworthy character. When John was offered the couch the social worker had little resistance, it would be foolish to separate her from her brother in such a delicate state.

  Later that evening, John told Lucy what he’d been able to gather from the scene of crime unit. It was all speculation of course until the autopsies had been carried out, but it would appear from their inspections that no crime had been committed, Simon had obviously died earlier than their mother and she’d probably been unaware of her plight, dying in a coma. The officer was trying to be kind but it was what he’d truly believed and prayed for. He was a God fearing Christian, he couldn’t believe that his God would put anyone through a fate like that fully-conscious, the thought was just too much for him to take in.