The chains of obsession, p.35
The Chains of Obsession, page 35
Sylvia believed that it might be true, what Jane had said. But suspected somehow that Jane couldn't help herself with Melanie and was probably going somewhere to sleep with her. Since she felt really secure now with Jane, and she was in no way being neglected emotionally nor physically, she'd decided to accept it with understanding, and just let it discreetly happen, just as she had with Pauline.
Jane parked under the trees in her usual spot. Oliver's car was parked in the yard in the back lane, hardly used, except by Jane if she wanted to collect items that she didn't want mucking up her Hilman Hunter.
It was always uncomfortable treading in the gravel with high heels, and its being dark didn't improve their steps. The only light came from the porch, but even that was hardly brighter than a candle.
Melanie whispered. 'This is a creepy place!'
Jane laughed. 'It's different during the day.!' She opened the door with her key and led Melanie into the hall. 'And there's no need to whisper, darling. There's no one in the whole house, far as I know. Used to be one old lady in the first flat above, but I think she's gone now . . . died or gone to a home.'
The hall floor echoed like a drum when they walked on the thin carpeting and started up the first flight of stairs. Jane was directing Melanie ahead of her. She certainly could see why the new mini skirt fashion explosion was so popular with men. ‘Take it easy, Melanie. We got three flights of stairs. Don't want you worn to a frazzle before I get a chance to get hold of you!' They both laughed. Tina's old attic flat had got spy holes covering everywhere but the kitchen.
'So no business over the kitchen table with them,' Oliver had joked. 'And don't forget to stand them in the bath and use the shower!' He'd also reminded Jane to always have some background radio music on low when she knew he would be looking, just in case he made accidental noise, like a sneeze or something.
Oliver looked through the spy hole as Jane and Melanie entered the flat. The doors to the different bedsits were never locked now. He liked to think of it as one house. Jane put the light on and then the radio. This was the first time Oliver had seen Melanie apart from her port folio modelling photos and he really was impressed. How Jane could pull such an out and out gorgeous creature was astounding. She looked ready for the catwalk there and then in her mini skirted outfit which clearly demonstrated how the long legged girl was so perfect for this fashion. He could hardly wait to see her all the way up naked. It wouldn't be long though. He'd put the gas fire on early against the cold night that was forecast. They'd soon find it was warm enough in there to get stripped off. Had he left it for Jane to light, they would have been shivering half the evening till they could take a stitch off. His own place had been warming up all day and he would enjoy the evening in comfort, with plenty to drink. More than likely wake up there too, he wouldn't be surprised.
It wasn't long before he realised he wanted a piece of Melanie. He'd never seen Jane use her dill like this on anyone before, and the way Melanie responded to it was absolutely driving him crazy for her. Jane had simulated the whole scenario. She'd tied Melanie's hands behind her back and got her in exactly the way she would hold her for him. Jane was doing this to torture him, he felt sure. He drank up more whisky to burn away the desire from his brain. Enough of it always eventually anaesthetised him. But the first few would raise him up like a bull. It was a question of control till he could get enough down.
Jane of course knew that the more she tormented him, the more he would drink. And tonight was the perfect night to catch Oliver in a knocked out, totally oblivious state. All she would need to do was come back and put the flame out.
Melanie, however, was no plain, tame female, and kept Oliver far more aroused than usual. He'd never seen such graceful limbs, and unblemished naked skin. And her sexuality was a match with Jane's. There was nothing he could do to stop himself reacting, when Jane took the dill in her hand and effectively showed him how to do his job. No sooner he saw that Melanie was hell crazy wanting it, by cocking her backside in the air and going passionate at the mouth to Jane's kisses, he lost control. Jane should not have built his excitement up for Melanie all those weeks ago, and then frustrating him by having a change of heart.
All Jane knew was that her heart nearly stopped when Oliver burst naked and skin ugly into the room. He threw himself straight on to Melanie, with both hands pinning her shoulders into Jane who was trapped under the combined weight. Melanie was helpless. Her hands were still tied firmly up her back. Swearing and calling him every rotten name under the sun, Jane struggled to get from under, with Melanie screaming at the sight she saw over her shoulder. She didn't see a human being with scars. She thought she was looking at some terrible creature full of disease.
Her scream took on a more animal pitch when Oliver delivered himself to her in place of the dill. As he began to fuck hard into her she tried to resist but all she could do was roll her delicate body from side to side, which in no way kept out the easy thrust of his penis. She was profusely lubricated and was squelching in her vagina from his very first plunge. It felt just like being up Sheila with the cream and he rapid fucked her in exactly the same way.
Jane swore and clawed at his arms, but he fought her off. Oliver was in a frenzy of sexual lust. He only reacted to the fact that he was struggling to overcome two females, neither of whom wanted him. It was just like that time he'd got hold of Tina. The more she struggled the more sexual passion came into him. He ignored Jane now. He was oblivious to the pain her finger nails ripped into his arms as he got Melanie gripped at her waist. Jane was right when she'd first described Melanie as a delicate swan. Her waist was so tiny he almost encircled it with his hands. As he lunged into her, smacking hard into her buttocks, he could imagine himself somewhere up there where he had his grip, as though the more he squeezed, the better the sensation he put through to his knob.
Suddenly, because of his insane preoccupation with such imaginings, thrusting mercilessly into a hole that simply swallowed him to the hilt as though it wanted it, and wanted it . . . He didn't notice that Jane had pulled the cord end that slipped the knot which bound Melanie. As Melanie pushed into the bed with her arms, like an exercise press, Jane threw her sideways. They all hit the floor in a heap, with Jane turning into a wild cat and a screaming savage. Oliver had not met a female in fury like it and fought as hard as he knew how.
While Jane had got him occupied in her fight, she screamed at Melanie to get out and run for her life. Melanie was galvanised into action. Shaking, terrified and hysterically crying, she grabbed at a heap of clothing and ran for the door. Oliver tried to throw Jane aside to stop her. If Melanie got out into the street now it was all over for him. That's all that was shooting through his mind. He swung blows to Jane's head and knocked her reeling, but before he could get hold of Melanie dragging at the door, Jane was across the room and on his back like a distraught monkey, pulling at his hair. Melanie yanked the door open and fled bare foot down the uncarpeted attic stairs, her feet slapping on the cold lino, just as Oliver staggered onto the top landing with the weight of Jane on his back.
'Get off, Jane, you silly cow. If we don't stop her it'll be all up for both of us!' He flung himself round and ducked his head and flipped Jane over the top so that she landed against the wall at the top of the stairs, knocking over the plant pot and pedestal. Then, as naked as the rest of them, he ran past her and down the stairs, two at a time, to get to Melanie before she got to the front door. As he got to the bottom of the attic stairs, Jane hit him square in the back with the plant pot, which broke and cut him across the shoulder blades, sending him sprawling along the lower landing on to his face. Before he had got to his feet, Jane tore down the stairs and was on his back a second time, hitting him with such force he went back flat on his face. Her attack was so ferocious he had great difficulty in overcoming her. By the time he had her flattened out, himself on top, holding her down, he heard the front door of the house crash back against the hall stand, as Melanie had flung it wide and run out into the night. Jane shouted hard into his face as she struggled to get her arms free from his grip as he pressed them into the middle landing carpet.
'That's you and me finished you bastard! I'll do nothing for you from now on!' Jane obviously had a clearer head than Oliver, and didn't think for a minute that Melanie would go to the police. She'd got too much to lose by scandal. Oliver's head was still spinning from the whisky and the knock it had taken on the floor. For him, it appeared to be all over. He was relating it to the escape of Sheila Connaught. Now he would be done for multiple murder. And all because Jane had gone berserk and attacked him for doing the very thing she'd conditioned him to do. She tried to hook her knee into him. 'Let me up you fucking arsehole! I'm not your timid, frightened Annie! You fucking wanker!'
Each time she tried to heave herself up, Oliver's superior strength held her down, so that the back of her head kept hitting painfully on the carpet. Oliver continued to hold her while he breathed deeply to restore his strength. His face stared down at her and she glared back at him, seeing his face at its worst. They were both naked and he was on top of her, yet sex was the last thing that either of them wanted from each other. She started to sneer. 'No wonder you couldn't get to fuck Annie. She couldn't stand the ugly sight of you. She told us you were an absolute prick and a nuisance from the day she'd first met you. Always trying to fanny round her. She'd rather have me than you, you scabby one eyed toad!'
He let go her hands and she went to get up. But he put his hands to her throat and strangled her. When her eyes bulged and her face turned blue as little blood vessels burst all over it, he shouted back at her that she was the ugly faced toad now, and continued squeezing till her eyes glazed over and her tongue had come out like a purple balloon.
Oliver left Jane's naked body on the landing where he had strangled her.
Melanie had run into someone's dark, tree lined driveway three houses from Oliver's. She was quickly trying to cover herself with whatever clothing she had grabbed. She had two blouse tops and a pair of knickers. Peeping through the trees she saw no sign of Oliver, so she hurriedly stepped into the knickers, which were Jane's, put on her blouse top, and used Jane's blouse to tie round her waist by its long sleeves as a skirt. Running off barefoot up the road, Melanie, now looking like a demented tennis player dressed in white, waved her arms at an approaching car. The car hesitated, then abruptly stopped a few yards past her. A young couple in their twenties got out to meet her as she breathlessly told them she had been attacked in a house and could they drive her away quickly because she was being chased. Without hesitation the dark haired girl helped her into the back seat of the car, scrambling in along side her, while her husband ran round to his driving side and got the car away as quickly as possible.
While the girl was fussing and tending to Melanie, her husband shouted should they take her to the police station or a hospital. Melanie had already thought about her position. She couldn't go to the police. But there was Jane. Who knows what that maniac would do to her. She couldn't leave her to be raped or injured by that thing of a man.
'Please . . . Can you drop me just up the road from here at a friends? It's a domestic matter and I'll be able to phone the police from there.' She couldn't go home without her clothes.
'Yes, sure, no problem . . . just direct me which way!'
She got them to drop her a few houses short of Sylvia's and thanked them before running up the nearest drive, till they had driven away. Then she quickly returned to the road and hurried on to Sylvia's house, and banged on the heavy wrought iron knocker at the front door. It was a quarter to midnight.
Sylvia had been sat on the settee in her nightie, waiting for Jane to come home. Her first thought when she heard the door knocker was that Jane had lost her key, till it banged on enough to cave the door in. Grabbing her blue dressing gown, Sylvia ran to the window and looked through the net curtains at the porch. When she saw it was Melanie in a near state of undress, going frantic at the knocker, she rushed to the front door and flung it open. Melanie stumbled in and was crying and trying to speak at the same time.
'Oh Sylvia, Sylvia . . . I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry for coming to you, but I've got to. I'm frightened for Jane . . .'
Sylvia took hold of her sympathetically, frightened also. 'What is it, Melanie? What's happened to Jane? Where is she?'
'Oh Sylvia you'll have to phone the police. A man attacked us and he's got Jane now!'
'Where, where?' She shook Melanie but not savagely. 'Where is she Melanie? Tell me quickly!'
Melanie started shaking her head helplessly, realising she actually didn't know where. She could go there, but couldn't say where it was. She put her hands to her mouth. 'I don't know. She took me to a big house not far from here, and up to an attic!'
Sylvia hadn't the faintest clue where she meant. She never dreamt of Oliver. 'Could you take the police to it if I get them here?' She went for the telephone on the coffee table.
'This man with scabs and sores all over his face and chest and a funny eye came and attacked us . . ..'
Sylvia stopped with the phone in her hand. Big house? Funny eyed man? 'Melanie . . . he didn't have black bushy hair did he?'
'Yes, yes he did, Sylvia!'
'Was the house on a corner with trees all round it, and a gravel curved drive?'
'Yes . . .' Melanie was showing surprise that Sylvia knew where she was talking about.
Sylvia put a hand to her head, but she didn't have the same panic. She knew Oliver had gone off his head somehow similar to how he'd gone with Annie. But she didn't think there was any need to be terrified anymore. She dialled Oliver's phone number. When she didn't get an answer, her anxiety renewed itself. She told Melanie to come to the bedroom with her quickly, grabbing her arm, so that they could both put some clothes on. 'We've got to go there Melanie. Jane will be all right. But we have got to go and get her!'
As Melanie put clothes on from Jane's wardrobe, and Sylvia was hurriedly putting on her own, Melanie was saying she couldn't go back to that house. Jane had told her to run for her life, and she meant it. And she wanted to know whose house it was because Sylvia seemed to know.
'It's my husband you saw Melanie. He was in a bad scalding accident and had his eye burnt out a few years ago. He's locked himself up there. He doesn't go out. And he owns Hickery fashions.' She took hold of Melanie's arm and started to hurry her. 'What exactly happened. Tell me quickly, while I drive us there -'
'Sylvia no, I can't go there! You must get the police!' And she hurriedly told her there and then everything that happened, toning down her behaviour by saying that she and Jane had only been kissing, though they had been naked together.
Although Sylvia felt hurt, she was more concerned at the alleged ferocity of Oliver. She knew she just had to go over there, and that Oliver would have probably succeeded in having sex with Jane, where he had failed with Annie.
'You can wait here then, Melanie. But don't phone the police. I'll bring Jane back with me and your clothes. Then we'll take you home. Just lie down on the settee. Everything will be all right!'
Sylvia went out to her car and raced off toward Oliver's. She got there at twenty past twelve and parked next to Jane's car. The moment she saw it stood there cold and empty, her heart started thumping and she felt cold inside. She ran to the front door and found it wide open, with the hall and stairs lit up by Oliver's yellowy light bulbs. Remembering Melanie had said they'd been up in the attic bedsit, she decided to go straight up the stairs, shouting for both Oliver and Jane as she went. She'd never been up there before. The only part of the house she knew was the downstairs flat, where Oliver had brought her when they were engaged. At the top of the first flight of stairs, Sylvia stopped and listened. There was just no noise in the house at all, except where the windows rattled lightly to the wind.
'Oliver? Jane?' She walked slowly along the first landing to the foot of the second flight of stairs. These were also lit all the way up miserably yellow and, she supposed, all the way to the attics. She shouted again. 'Oliver . . . answer me please. What's been happening?' She was hesitant about going up the second flight to the next landing and the attic stairs. But she made herself go on. Her hands were shaking as she clutched at the oak banisters. When she reached the landing at the top and turned toward the attic stairs, she first saw the broken plant pot then the sprawled out naked and beautiful body of Jane. She was laid on her back with her hands at the side of her head, palms up, like she was the victim of a hold up, had she been standing up.
Sylvia muffled her own cry as her hands flew to her mouth and her gaze was drawn to Jane's bloated face with the purple tongue that filled her mouth like an apple in a boars head. She fell on her wailing and crying. Clutching her body and pressing the side of her face to Jane's cold breast. She tried looking up to her face as if she would see Jane, but it wasn't Jane anymore but for her long dark hair. The eyes stared at the skirting board like marbles, more white in them than she'd ever seen before. She had to look instantly away, and then had to pull back as she started to heave. Sylvia turned back to the stairs, and started to walk down them, then suddenly she began to scream and run in panic. She cried hysterically and run and fell and stumbled, all the way down the two flights of stairs and out through the hall like Jane's body was rolling and tumbling after her.
She pulled at the starter till the mini engine road to life, and crashed the gears into reverse. With her neck twisted to see through tear filled eyes she accelerated backwards and into a bush, but immediately crashed her gears to forward again and spun gravel all the way out of the drive.
Oliver trudged across the fields, his anorak hood zipped up tight against the cold, and to hide his face. It was all over now. Nothing mattered. The wind bit sharply into his tender skin where it was partly open for his sighted eye to find his way along the hedgerows and on through darkened woodland. The moon was almost full, and as the clouds moved on, it lit his way eerily. Eventually he came to the tall wooden fencing at the back of Bert and Annie's house. They couldn't do any more to him than they'd done to Ian Brady. And it wouldn't make any difference now what he did between now and when they locked him away. He was not going out of this world without taking Annie with him. But first he would have her as fate had determined. And in her own bed. The full treatment, just as he'd given it to Tina. Right to her very end.
