reverberated with the sounds of terrible
rows for three straight days before it eventually fell into silence once more.
“Son,
I did these awful things for you, now you must do the same for me. This is on
your head as much as it is on mine and I’ll not go to the gallows alone,” he
vowed, completing a spectacular about-turn with hypocrisy to spare.
I
could’ve stuck to my guns and told him to go to hell but he was still my father
and I was still in awe and afraid of him in equal measure. But more than that,
if he was prepared to kill burly German quartermasters, unarmed Italian boys
and defenceless young girls to save himself, what further price was he capable
of paying?
So
I stopped arguing so vehemently when this thought dawned on me, but I didn’t
let up entirely. After all, “people will say anything to get out of the car.
Anything.” I now knew this to be true. And so did my father.
“This
has to be the end though father. One more, just one and then we’re finished,” I
insisted. “I need your solemn word.”
My
father regarded me for several seconds as he rolled my condition over in his
mind before accepting.
“Very
well, this one will be the last, come what may.”
He
held out his hand and as sickened as I was, I took it and shook it all the
same.
“This
is a pact John, from father to son. And it cannot be broken by outside forces.
Take a girl, deliver her to the Lord in the same manner as the others and set
us both free.”
There
were many things I could’ve said and probably many things I should’ve said. But
in the event, all I said was:
“Yes
father.”
vii
Once again the number plates were already on the side when I entered the
garage. I looked at them with contempt then climbed into my father’s car and
headed out into the night.
I
didn’t know where my father had gone for the evening, but the first thing I did
was to make sure he wasn’t hiding in the back seat. I’m not sure what I
would’ve done had I found him lurking down there again but I doubt it would've
been pretty.
Before
he’d left for the evening – all dolled up in his finest tweeds –
he’d kitted me out with a pair of black leather gloves, a pair of thick rimmed
glasses that sported clear glass lenses and a silken tie with a pre-tied knot
halfway up its length similar to the one he’d used a week earlier. That first
one was in cinders apparently. Or perhaps my father had lied about that too. I
didn’t know. One silk tie looked much the same as the next to me.
I
headed across town once more, to the place where women availed themselves, and
waited until the sexual rush hour passed. This town had one hell of a libido it
seemed. As recently as two weeks ago I’d had no idea this sort of thing even went
on. And I’d had no idea just how many townsmen participated. I guess I was learning
more than I’d bargained for these days and weeks.
A
little after two in the morning, the traffic eased and most of the girls
retired for the night to count their blessings. One or two of the girls still
lingered and I waited until there was just one before I started my engine and
rolled over to her corner of the street.
“Looking
for business, fella?” she asked, dispensing with her fag with a flick of the
finger and metaphorically rolling up her sleeves.
I
could scarcely bring myself to answer, so instead I cranked open the passenger
side door and invited her in with a nod. The girl slipped in so I put my foot
down and headed out to the oh-so familiar Lanes.
“Not
seen you about before, love,” she commented. “New to this sort of thing are
you?”
“You
could say that,” I replied when I finally found my voice.
The
traffic on the roads was pretty sparse, so I was reasonably confident we’d have
no one going to the police the next day with tales of plateless Oxfords or
similar, though this was the only shred of confidence I possessed.
I
pressed on, past the lakes, past the picnicking sites and even
rows for three straight days before it eventually fell into silence once more.
“Son,
I did these awful things for you, now you must do the same for me. This is on
your head as much as it is on mine and I’ll not go to the gallows alone,” he
vowed, completing a spectacular about-turn with hypocrisy to spare.
I
could’ve stuck to my guns and told him to go to hell but he was still my father
and I was still in awe and afraid of him in equal measure. But more than that,
if he was prepared to kill burly German quartermasters, unarmed Italian boys
and defenceless young girls to save himself, what further price was he capable
of paying?
So
I stopped arguing so vehemently when this thought dawned on me, but I didn’t
let up entirely. After all, “people will say anything to get out of the car.
Anything.” I now knew this to be true. And so did my father.
“This
has to be the end though father. One more, just one and then we’re finished,” I
insisted. “I need your solemn word.”
My
father regarded me for several seconds as he rolled my condition over in his
mind before accepting.
“Very
well, this one will be the last, come what may.”
He
held out his hand and as sickened as I was, I took it and shook it all the
same.
“This
is a pact John, from father to son. And it cannot be broken by outside forces.
Take a girl, deliver her to the Lord in the same manner as the others and set
us both free.”
There
were many things I could’ve said and probably many things I should’ve said. But
in the event, all I said was:
“Yes
father.”
vii
Once again the number plates were already on the side when I entered the
garage. I looked at them with contempt then climbed into my father’s car and
headed out into the night.
I
didn’t know where my father had gone for the evening, but the first thing I did
was to make sure he wasn’t hiding in the back seat. I’m not sure what I
would’ve done had I found him lurking down there again but I doubt it would've
been pretty.
Before
he’d left for the evening – all dolled up in his finest tweeds –
he’d kitted me out with a pair of black leather gloves, a pair of thick rimmed
glasses that sported clear glass lenses and a silken tie with a pre-tied knot
halfway up its length similar to the one he’d used a week earlier. That first
one was in cinders apparently. Or perhaps my father had lied about that too. I
didn’t know. One silk tie looked much the same as the next to me.
I
headed across town once more, to the place where women availed themselves, and
waited until the sexual rush hour passed. This town had one hell of a libido it
seemed. As recently as two weeks ago I’d had no idea this sort of thing even went
on. And I’d had no idea just how many townsmen participated. I guess I was learning
more than I’d bargained for these days and weeks.
A
little after two in the morning, the traffic eased and most of the girls
retired for the night to count their blessings. One or two of the girls still
lingered and I waited until there was just one before I started my engine and
rolled over to her corner of the street.
“Looking
for business, fella?” she asked, dispensing with her fag with a flick of the
finger and metaphorically rolling up her sleeves.
I
could scarcely bring myself to answer, so instead I cranked open the passenger
side door and invited her in with a nod. The girl slipped in so I put my foot
down and headed out to the oh-so familiar Lanes.
“Not
seen you about before, love,” she commented. “New to this sort of thing are
you?”
“You
could say that,” I replied when I finally found my voice.
The
traffic on the roads was pretty sparse, so I was reasonably confident we’d have
no one going to the police the next day with tales of plateless Oxfords or
similar, though this was the only shred of confidence I possessed.
I
pressed on, past the lakes, past the picnicking sites and even
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