Chapter 12

The last full week of February was the half term break. I had a lot of work to do for my physics and chemistry, and a big technical drawing project that I was rather behind on. Because of this I hardly left the house, though Sandra and I had our regular Saturday dates. She and I spoke either by phone or text, or both, every day. Mrs Clarke did her three visits, two Sundays and the Wednesday evening, but aside from that, the only people I saw were on the TV, and I didn’t watch much TV. I did however watch a fair few of Mrs Crisp’s DVDs and sorted out the unworn knickers into two piles: probably will like and probably won’t like. I then spent much of the Monday going through the second pile, and by the end of the day I had thrown a lot of them away.

The following day, as I was watching the news, I saw that a lot of the manufacturing unions had joined forces in a big anti-Confederacy rally in central London. There were also smaller ones in Sheffield, Liverpool and Glasgow. A new name that I hadn’t come across before, Neil Conway, was standing alongside the well known leaders of some of the these unions, demanding that Confederacy replicators were banned as they were putting their members out of jobs. The protests, according to the commentators, seemed loud, but peaceful.

I considered. I wasn’t actually aware of any replicators, and in any case I wasn’t sure what they could do. I didn’t think a replicator was big enough to build a car or a fridge though, the only ones shown seemed to be about the size of a largish fridge, but could only build something the size of a football or maybe a little bit larger. I supposed it was possible to strip a car down to its constituent parts, but even then it would only be possible to replicate some of them. Panels, doors, windows, even the engine block all seemed to be too big. I’d have to ask Mrs Clarke or Mr Walmsley. Maybe Bondy or one of the other ‘gang’ members would know more.

The following day the main protest rallies were gone, but there were a lot of smaller protests around the country, some of which even turned into small but violent riots.

“Opportunists,” some of the commentators called the rioters. “Trouble makers and rent-a-rabble,” said a few others, but despite that, there seemed to be a generally sympathetic view to the original demonstrators demands. To my slight surprise there was actually a counter demonstration in Bristol. The Green party wanted to promote the replicators as a source of some of the products that were generally dirtier to create. “Save the environment,” was one claim. “Help to stop pollution,” was another.

It made sense to me, and as I pondered I could see advantages for the NHS. I knew that some drugs were scarily expensive. A replicator could produce them for a fraction of the cost. I liked that idea; it would save the NHS a huge amount of money.

The riots continued the following evening, but at a slightly reduced rate. A police spokeswoman claimed these were all just troublemakers that had nothing to do with the original protests. Looking at some of the casualties I could well believe that some of the extreme right wingers had got in on the act.

As I was going through the stuff on the dining table, I came across the video cameras I had found at Mrs Crisp’s. Checking them I found that one had a memory card in it, while the other seemed to be a remote camera, one that sent its pictures down a wire, or over a local wifi signal, rather than store them locally. That was disappointing.

I put the card in the computer and clicked on the file in there. I can’t say I was too surprised to see the twins fucking their father ragged in Marion Crisp’s bed. It must gave been taken during the party just before the collection. Once their father had surrendered, the pair went into an intense sixty-nine. It was obvious that the twins knew of the presence of the camera, but that their father didn’t. The two girls kept on making sure that the camera had the best views of what was going on. It was more than obvious the two girls truly loved having sex both with each other and with their own father, just as much as he loved having sex with them. It was lovely, and sexy, to watch.

The following day I found something that shocked me badly, and once again changed everything. It was late Friday evening and I had been watching some of Marion Crisp’s DVDs. Most were sexy and erotic, a few were just strange. Some men wanted to be whipped, or wanted to whip her. Some men wanted to be dressed in nappies, some wanted her dressed as a schoolgirl or a policewoman or a nurse, sometimes just sexy lingerie, but most were just happy with her dressed up nice. There were two women clients, those recordings were sexy, and one where Mrs Crisp was with a married couple. Now that really was something to behold.

Some of the films had sound, and it was as I was half watching one of these, that something the man said caught my attention. Mrs Crisp was wearing a school uniform and had been calling her client ‘daddy’, but that aside, nothing had especially caught my attention until, as he was thrusting hard, he began to talk.

“Oh my beautiful Amber,” he was moaning. “Oh I so want you.”

I looked up and stared it the picture, listening intently.

“Your sister doesn’t even try and fight me off any more. She’s losing her appeal. Oh how I want you.”

I noticed Mrs Crisp’s face. She looked very disgusted, even horrified. I wasn’t even slightly surprised by her obvious feelings; luckily he couldn’t see them. I continued to watch. I was certain I knew who it was; I just wanted to see his face to confirm it.

Mrs Crisp spoke. “I’m sorry Daddy,” she said softly. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No baby girl. It’s Talulah who’s doing it wrong.”

I had him. My hands curled into fists.

“How’s she doing it wrong Daddy?” Mrs Crisp spoke plaintively, like a little girl. She was doing a grand job of coaxing out his confession. Her eyes even flickered briefly to the camera and back to her client.

“She comes to me now. I’m sure she’s doing it to stop us being together. She knows you are so much better, so much nicer, so much prettier, than she is; so much more special.”

I felt so sorry for Tee. So she was actually having to seduce her father to stop him from attacking her sister. She no longer dared wait for him to come to her in case he went to Amber instead. I wanted to hold her in my arms and comfort her. I wanted to kick the shit out of her father. I wanted to rip his balls off and stuff them down his throat, closely followed by his torn off dick. I wanted to give Amber a good shaking and show her what she was so close to being on the receiving end of because she wouldn’t get a CAP card.

My mind instantly skittered off in another direction.

I would show this to Mrs Clarke. I stopped. No. I couldn’t. I hadn’t told her about Mrs Crisp’s discs, and I couldn’t now. I couldn’t show it to Sandra; and I certainly couldn’t show it to Tee. My mind took yet another right turn. I couldn’t give it to Sandra, but maybe I could give it to Mr Walmsley. Especially if I could get it to him anonymously. I knew Sandra’s address so I could just post it to him, with a note. He might be able to get it to Mrs Clarke, or someone else who might be able to do something. I just hoped it didn’t go to the police.

I got some thin latex gardening gloves and put them on to ensure I didn’t spread any more fingerprints around. Maybe I was being overly paranoid, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t have the time. I got a stiff envelope from the small stash Dad kept and carefully wiped it all over.

The date-stamps on the files were all from September and October last year, the last one only days before my parents had been collected, so this was recent. Good. After copying the files off the DVD to back them up, just in case, I ejected the disc. It just had ‘Danny’ written on it. Nothing else, no surname. Tee’s father was called Danny Evans? I shook my head, I hadn’t heard of him, but then, I didn’t really expect I would have.

I slipped the disc into the envelope then got a piece of paper. I opened a fresh pack and deliberately took a sheet from the middle, again so that there was no chance of any fingerprints being on it. I then wrote: This is Sandra’s best friend’s father. He has just admitted to having sex with one of his own daughters and wanting to have sex with the other. What can you do to help? Can you help? Maybe Amber needs to be shown this? Don’t show it to the police please. If they go in as clodfooted as they usually do they will mess it up.

I didn’t sign it, but I carefully folded it up and slipped it into the envelope. I addressed the envelope to Mr Walmsley, and then went looking for a stamp. Hmm. I looked at my watch. Apart from a pair of knickers, that was all I was wearing. There was time. I quickly got dressed and hurried up to the local shop. It was still open even this late.

“Book of first class stamps,” I said politely. I handed over the money and left. I didn’t open the book until I was home and once again had gloves on. Then, carefully, I put a stamp on the envelope and left it on the kitchen table.

I showered and changed knickers, the last pair of Pauline Lipp’s that I still hadn’t worn, and got into bed. Within five minutes I knew these ones were keepers.

Saturday morning I once again put on a latex glove before picking up the envelope. I hurried quickly to the nearest post-box, which was a surprising distance away. I discarded the glove in a waste bin outside a nearby news-agents.

I was very jumpy that day and more than once Sandra asked me if I was all right. I tried to assure her I was, but she didn’t seem convinced. She did however believe me when I told her I loved her.

By the time school started again on Monday morning, I had thrown yet another half dozen pairs of knickers away, and had about sixty still to wear even once.

Three days later, Thursday, the fecal matter hit the rapidly rotating air mover.

Mrs Clarke took Sandra, myself, Bondy, Blish and Higgis out of our respective classes and took us into a small classroom that wasn’t being used.

“Right. Something has come up that means we want to bring forward our plans. We have evidence that we believe means we can get Mr Evans taken off the streets. At least, under normal conditions. Unfortunately, as you know, there are some not very nice people starting to make noises. Fortunately they don’t have much traction at the moment, but it’s my belief they may actually oppose us attacking him directly as he’s starting to become important locally. So. We’ve come up with a rough plan. Tee doesn’t yet know any of this, but when she does she could have a major breakdown. It’s my suspicion that if that happens she’ll likely lose her sponsors score, and if that is the case, then Toby, I want you to take her. You already have Sandra, and since you, Sandra are Tee’s closest friend, you will be able to help her. If she’s okay, she doesn’t lose it, then I’m going to suggest she comes with you anyway. Otherwise, Sandra, I want you to consider going with her. If you can. I know you would much rather go with Mr Simpson, but I’m thinking of Tee here.”

Sandra nodded unhappily.

She sighed and continued. “Mr Blish, will you take Amber please? Assuming she’s a concubine as we all expect.”

Adam nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

Mrs Clarke smiled. “I know it’s not ideal.” She turned to Higgis. “I have three possibilities for you, that I think would suit you perfectly. I’ve also had a long chat with someone from the Confederacy. I’ve had it confirmed that more than one sponsor can live together if they want to. So even if you two gents take four women between you, you can still be together when you want.”

Blish and Higgis looked at each other and grinned.

“That’s perfect Miss, thank you.”

Mrs Clarke nodded. “Now. For the plan. I assume everyone here knows that Sandra and Toby are engaged to be married?” Everyone nodded. “Right, well they are getting married at the registry office in Watford on the first Saturday in April.” She ignored the mass gasp that went around the five of us. “The only people invited are our pre-pack and the Confederacy will pick us all up then. Okay?”

My jaw had dropped. Mrs Clarke looked at me. “Sorry Toby. It’s the way it has to be. And the rest of you. For now at least, all that Tee and any of the others must know is that Sandra and Toby are getting married. Even so, it must remain as much a secret as it’s possible for it to be. When people get the wedding invites, they will also get a letter imploring them to absolute secrecy. Admittedly this is mostly for the sake of school discipline, but it will also help to keep anything from the ears of people we really don’t want to know about it. Most importantly though, if the Confederacy even think we’ve been rumbled, they won’t turn up.”

“So can we tell Tee?”

“About the wedding, yes. Not about anything else. Amber is still an issue though. For this we think we may be able to get away without the need to get Amber CAP tested beforehand. We’re hoping that they’ll bend the rules a little because of her home situation, take her either as a dependant, or as someone untested and then almost force a test on her quite quickly. Hopefully without her realising.” She took a deep breath and continued.

“Of course, it would be better and easier if we can get her tested in advance, and if we have to use it, the evidence we’ve now got might help us to turn her to our way of thinking.”

“What have you got?” Sandra asked. I was glad she’d asked. I had been about to, but was also sure that I already knew, and that by knowing, asking would give me away.

Mrs Clarke shook her head. “At this time I can’t tell you. But just know it is almost absolute proof.

“Only almost?” I asked.

“A real slime-bag weasel of a lawyer could probably get a jury to be uncertain enough to have to find him not guilty. The evidence we have, could be viewed by some as at least partially circumstantial, and that could be enough to get him off. More than that I’m not saying. You people absolutely do not need to know.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, the wedding?”

“Sandra’s parents are organising it with my help. Sandra, Toby, you stay behind for a moment, the rest of you back to class please. And remember what I said about not talking about it. Especially about being collected.”

“I’m sorry kids,” she said softly when we were alone. “I’m afraid there’s going to be no time for a honeymoon. The Collection will be at eight in the evening, the ceremony slot at the registry office is at three. The actual ceremony should be over by three thirty and there will be time for a few photo’s outside until about four. Then we’re going to a local hotel ten minutes away for food and a bit of a party. The collection will come at eight, so we’ll probably be at the hotel for about four hours.”

“How are we going to pay for it?” I asked. “Surely it’s still gonna cost in advance?”

Mrs Clarke stared at me for a moment. “I have just over three thousand that will go in. I should be able to get some more over the next weeks.” I realised she was referring to the jewellery.

“Okay. I can add another two,” I said, “but it might be a bit tight by then if things go a bit wrong.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She looked at Sandra. “Your bridesmaids. Tee?”

Sandra nodded. “I think Tee, plus you and Neeka.”

Mrs Clarke grinned. “Good idea.” She turned to me.

“Best man. Mr Bond? You could go for Mr Walmsley, but to have the bride’s father as your best men doesn’t really seem right. Mr Blish does discos so he’ll do that for us. I haven’t asked him yet, but I’m sure he won’t be averse to the idea.”

I nodded. “Yeah, why not.”

We spent another few minutes talking about how the wedding would go on the day, and some of the details that would be needed. Sandra and I promised to put our heads together to come up with the few details still needed from us such as music for the ceremony and for the first dance. Would we get a dress for her? A suit for me? Or should we dress down a bit?

Mrs Clarke took some necessary details and told us she would contact the registry office formally and start the ball rolling. We had slightly under four weeks. “Don’t stop preparing for your A-levels though”, she told us sternly. “Just in case.”

“No Miss,” we both said. She smiled at us and sent us back to our classes. Me to chemistry, Sandra to sociology.

That night I heard that Donald Prendergast’s The People First party was being taken over by the Great Britain Independence Party. In effect they were merging, but under the banner of the GBIP. Four days later it became the Earth First party, and Donald Prendergast emerged as the leader. In my history lessons I had seen photographs and heard interviews from the 1960’s of Labour leader Harold Wilson. Apart from the lack of a pipe, Prendergast really reminded me of Wilson.

Mrs Clarke took me out of chemistry class the following afternoon. “Going to the local registry office,” she told me shortly. This wasn’t the one where we would be getting married. When we got there, Mrs Walmsley was already there with Sandra. We both had interviews, one after the other, with the registrar. I didn’t realise until the interview actually started, but it turned out this was a legal requirement. The woman was a little annoyed, simply because of the very short notice period. I paid over my money, forty-five quid, answered a few questions and filled in a form, signed it, and ten minutes later I left. As I was still under eighteen, and more importantly, would be on my wedding day, Mrs Clarke also signed as my legal guardian. Only she and I knew she wasn’t actually my legal guardian, merely acting as one.

Oddly, I had very little to do, wedding wise, for most of the time up to my wedding. I had to go and get measured for a suit and Mrs Clarke gave me a ring from the collection that we could use as my wedding ring, if I wanted one. When she saw it Sandra just smiled and said it would be fine. “I’ve got my grandmother’s” she told me happily. “It’s being resized at the moment.”

I nodded. “That sounds good.”

With Mrs Clarke’s help, and Sandra’s approval, I had finally got my fourth concubine: the seventeen-year-old daughter of one of Mrs Clarke’s neighbours. Carla went to a different school so none of us knew her, but Mrs Clarke had known her since she had been about eight. She was a pleasant, friendly girl, with a slight eastern European accent. She was slightly overweight, but still very pretty; working full time as a library assistant while doing a part time evening course in library management. She wanted to be a librarian and absolutely loved books and reading. For her, paper books, not e-books, were far more special. I had an e-reader and just over one thousand books, many of which, I’m ashamed to say, I hadn’t read. Carla had easily twice as many books, but they were a mix of paperback and hardback. And she had read every single one. Some of them more than once. She was very well, and widely, read.

Carla became Sandra’s fourth bridesmaid. Mrs Clarke smilingly told us, in confidence, that Carla had instantly worked out why she had been invited.

At thirteen days before the wedding I had finally worn every single pair of knickers that I still had. After Mrs Clarke left following her Sunday visit, I counted them up. I still had one hundred and thirty-six. Wow. I had thrown over two hundred away. Most of them had been pretty and sexy to look at, maybe even to the touch, but for one reason or another they had been unwearable for me.

That was when I finally realised that in just under a fortnight I would have to say goodbye to all the rest. I almost cried. I went through them all carefully, deciding which ones to throw now, and which ones to keep a bit longer. Sandra’s I hung on to, but only because they were Sandra’s. I put on a knickers and suspender belt pair, with some stockings, and threw away every single other suspender belt and half of the stockings. It took me two hours but I eventually managed to whittle it down to fifty-one pairs, including Sandra’s and the ones I was wearing. There were five of Mum’s in there, three of Jo’s, four of Pauline Lipp’s, six of Mrs Crisp’s and two belonging to the twins. I wasn’t certain which was from which twin, or even if they were only from one. The rest I was no longer certain whose they were. Or had been, they were mine now.

With a great deal of reluctance and some regret, I threw away the ninety-odd that, had I been staying, I knew would be keepers for me. I didn’t just hide them or put them to one side, just in case, I actually threw them in the bin. It was filthy and smelly. I wouldn’t want to take anything out of there after I had put it in. Even so I might actually have done just that except for the fact that the bin was emptied two days later.

I actually spent nearly an hour trying to decide which ones to wear for the wedding. I finally chose a pair of Mum’s. They were a creamy white, soft and sensuous, with just a small amount of lace. I suppose, if you only glanced at them quickly while I was wearing them, you might not notice. I decided I’d put a few more in my pockets on the day, including Sandra’s, so that I would be able to take them with me. I didn’t know if it would work, but it was what I wanted to do. However, when I tried to go through the pile in front of me, I couldn’t make up my mind. I wanted all of them.

A few evenings later, Tuesday evening, I got another shock. I was half watching another one of Marion Crisp’s DVDs. At first I thought it was my father, then I realised it was both my parents. I was shocked and amazed and got the mother of all hard-ons.

It started with Marion and Mum in a prolonged sixty-nine while Dad just prowled around, occasionally sticking his cock in some available hole, at other times just caressing and stroking them. After both the women had come at least twice, they pounced on Dad and fucked him ragged.

I came so much into one of Marion Crisp’s knickers that I decided to throw them rather than wash them. Well, one less to try and choose between.

The following morning Sandra told me that Amber had finally been persuaded to get a CAP card. As expected she got a low score. According to Sandra, when Tee’s father found out he had tried to arrange a collection just for the three of them, but had been turned down. Apparently, when both Tee and Amber had turned up with wedding invitations, he had got very suspicious. Only the fact that Tee was Sandra’s chief bridesmaid, plus the promise of an invite for him, made him relent.