Chapter 6

Marcus Selwood:

Okay, so I’m a coward. Actually, I prefer to say I’m a realist. Our womenfolk don’t want their men to interfere in their rituals. So I authorised Marjory Boothroyd to do whatever was necessary for Jane and Fran and the arrangements for our wedding. I stepped back and just went with the flow. I satisfied the girl or woman who turned up in my office, or accosted me in the garden, or the library, or wherever, and at night enjoyed the warmth and femininity of three young women in the (king-sized) bed in the master bedroom. It was clear that the bed was barely adequate, and I took it upon myself to order a rather larger bespoke item, along with all the sheets, duvet and duvet covers necessary. This arrived a few days before the wedding, and on the morning of the big day I had a team assemble it and remove the original. Incidentally, the night before, I was relegated to the bedroom I had been using prior to Amelia’s departure, and I had the pleasure (literally) of Marjory to keep me company, while Sally, Fran and Jane slept together in the master bedroom. I didn’t see the three of them that day until we met in the chapel. Instead, Emily drove them quite early to the Horseshoe while I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and a quiet time in the garden.

Emily then drove Marjory and me to the Horseshoe and we were conducted to the chapel. There I met Joshua, who was to act as Best Man. His ladies sat on our side of the chapel just behind us. As the time approached, the residents and staff, or most of them, filed in, along with some former residents and their masters/husbands/whatevers. That was significant, as we’ll see later. The chapel was actually full. The Chaplain came and stood at the front, then finally, Sally entered, with Jane on one arm, Fran on the other, and Amelia (!) walking behind them. A couple of trainers were supervising, mainly, I was later told, to deal with the security, opening doors and so on.

I turned to face them as they approached.

Sally curtseyed. “My husband,” she smiled, “I present to you, Jane Melham, who wishes to join our marriage. I approve of her. Do you?”

I hadn’t been cued in on the dialogue, but I thought I could extemporise well enough. “Thank you, Wife. I do approve.”

“Thank you master.” She placed Jane’s right hand in my left. “My husband, I also present to you, Frances Matthews, who wishes to join our marriage. I approve of her. Do you?”

“Thank you, Wife. I do approve.”

“Thank you, master.” She placed Fran’s left hand in my right, and stood to her right side. We all turned naturally to face the front, then Sally spoke again, rather to my surprise. “Reverend Franklin, my husband and I come to you to sanctify the joining of Jane and Frances to our marriage. We come freely and in love to make our vows before God and the world.”

He responded, “Missus Selwood, you are welcome. Frances Mary, do you truly wish to be married to Marcus and Sally?”

“Yes, sir. Before God and this congregation, I do.”

“Sally and Marcus, do you accept Frances Mary to become part of your Marriage?”

“We do.”

“Jane Elizabeth, do you truly wish to be married to Marcus, Sally, and Frances?”

“Yes, sir. Before God and this congregation, I do.”

“Sally, Marcus and Frances, do you accept Jane Elizabeth to become part of your marriage?”

“We do.”

He then led us through an otherwise conventional marriage ceremony ending with; ‘Marcus and Sally, you may kiss your brides.” Well, that made sense. Sally kissed Jane and I kissed Fran, then we exchanged partners and turned to face the congregation ... and Amelia, who was on her knees behind us. Sally stooped (as everyone else was applauding) kissed my ex-wife, whispered in her ear, and encouraged her to stand. We all then trooped back to the Centre for an impressive spread prepared by Imogen Collins and some fairly conventional (within the limitations of an inherently unconventional situation) speeches. Afterwards, we circulated.

“Mister Selwood? I’m David Beatson. Your father used to bring his cars to me for attention.”

“How do you do, Mister Beatson. Please, feel free to call me Marcus.”

“Thank you! In that case, I’m David. I have a favour to ask...”

“Okay...”

“I understand your driver tuned your old Daimler to run on alcohol?”

“That’s right. Emily has done a great job looking after our cars.”

“It’s just that we’re looking for competent mechanics as we’re snowed under with work. We’ve taken on an apprentice from here, Penny Linden, and she’s doing great, but there’s a long way for her to go before she can really help us. I was wondering if maybe you could spare ... Emily? Spare her for a few days a week to help us out.”

“I’ll consider that, David, but I’d need some conditions met, I’m afraid. First and most important, Emily would have to agree. Secondly, I’ll need a good driver to replace her. Thirdly, she’ll need enough time with us to continue to look after our cars.”

“All of which is acceptable.”

I looked around the room. It wasn’t difficult to spot a fairly tall, very well put-together auburn haired beauty who was actually dressed, among the nude residents. I caught her eye. (Interesting, as it suggested she’d actually been watching me). I waved, and she made her way over to us. “Emily, David Beatson here has asked if you’d be interested in working a few days each week at his garage. It seems he was impressed with your work on the Daimler.”

She regarded me carefully, then, “Mister Beatson, how do you do? What do you need?”

“I need a competent mechanic whom I can trust to deal with most, if not all, maintenance and trouble-shooting on cars brought to us. He or she would probably need to work with, and supervise, an apprentice.”

“Apprentice?”

“Yes. Penny Linden is a ‘graduate’ of this place, and is, um, devoted to my son, Harry. She’s very keen and full of promise, but obviously still needs a lot of training and supervision.”

Emily turned to me. “Master?”

“Not wanting to lose you, Emily, I set some conditions, first of which is that you must want to do it. Another is that he needs to find me another driver to fill in for you, and that you must be able to continue to look after our vehicles.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course.” I turned back to David Beatson. “Is your apprentice here?”

He laughed. “Of course! How much control do you think we have over our ‘submissives’. Seriously, she’s with my son, Harry ... over ... there.” He pointed. Emily followed the direction of his arm, glanced at me, and after my nod went over to introduce herself.

“She’s lovely,” David said, quietly.

“She is,” I responded. “I would have married her, too, but she wasn’t interested.”

“Really? That seems surprising.”

I shrugged. “Who can understand a woman? I count myself lucky to have the ladies I have.”

He nodded. “So you should. I’m lucky to have Ginny, and Harry is lucky to have Penny.”

Looking across, I could see a pretty, thirtyish woman standing with a man whose resemblance to David was clear, and the younger girl to whom Emily was now speaking.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Perhaps you are.”

“As it happens, I know of a driver whom a customer of mine might be willing to spare. Would you be willing to interview her? She’s Indentured, but that was merely a way of obtaining a secure employment. Learned to drive before the War, of course.”

I was intrigued. “I dare say we could find room for her, even if Emily doesn’t want to try your employment. I think she ... Emily ... would enjoy having a greater variety of vehicles to care for, once she’s thought about it.”

“I hope so. Competent mechanics are not two a penny these days.”

It was an enjoyable time, but eventually it was time for us to leave and Emily drove us home. Once upon a time, of course, we’d have had a honeymoon, but as with Sally, there didn’t seem much point. Travelling was problematic, though Joshua Sutherland offered to fly us somewhere, and in all honesty, why bother? We’d probably be better fed and looked after at home anyway. We did, later, take Joshua up on the offer of a flight, really just to look at our country from the air. In the meantime, we explored the various permutations of three girls and one man, ensuring that I made love to each girl at least once each day.

A week after the wedding, I heard from David Beatson, and dispatched Emily to fetch our prospective second driver, who was employed at that point by a brewer in the Burton area. I should not have been shocked when she came to see us, but I was. Britain has been a multi-racial society from the nineteen-fifties, and the only difference following the War was the inevitable distrust of anyone of Middle-Eastern origin.

Anyway, Emily showed Autumn Jones into my office, smiled at me, and left. It took me a few seconds to collect my scattered wits, to stand, greet her, and invite her to sit. What did I see?

A very beautiful, dark-brown skinned, lady with an impressive Afro hairdo. Similar in height and build to Emily, long, tapered legs, pronounced hips (and rear) and breasts obvious despite a well-tailored but feminine dark suit.

“Sir, my name is Autumn Jones. I am subject to a five-year Voluntary Indenture, which my current Master is willing to transfer to you; there is a year to run. I am thirty-two years old and licenced to drive vehicles up to three tonnes as well as motorcycles. I have had some training in Krav Maga, and I have a permit to carry a hand-gun for the protection of my employer. Emily permitted me to drive on the way here, and is satisfied with my competence. I do not have her level of skill as a mechanic, but am willing to learn.”

“Autumn, I apologise. When you entered my office, I was stunned by your beauty, and I confess I was not expecting, well, a lady of black ethnicity. I should have. It makes no difference to me, it’s just, I was surprised.”