Chapter 10

"Gosh! How long have you been out here like that, my..."

"None of your business, grocer's boy!" laughed the freezing Girl as she playfully pushed off the lad's cap and threw it away before her could stop her, causing him to have to dive into the snow-covered garden to retrieve it. "Why the bicycle - van broken down?"

"Yes. Wouldn't start this morning, so here I am getting bloody frozen just to deliver your Mistress's weekly food. Not as cold as you, though! I don't know how you do it - come here a minute!"

And with this, the boy stepped up to the Girl and folded her shivering nakedness in his arms, giving her a little bit of much needed warmth, as well as the human sympathy and contact she had been deprived of for much too long. After a few seconds of this welcome solace she gently pushed him away and pointed to the gate.

"Put your delivery down on the ground and I will carry it up to the Castle. Now be off with you and don't, whatever you do, skid on the path and fall off that bike! If you do, then yours truly will get a very bloody back indeed!"

The grocer's boy glared in fury. His eyes seemed to be bursting out of his head and his face was deathly white.

"Those wicked bastards! I'd gladly kill them all for what they do to you! Just tell me to kill them and they are all dead!"

Then he rode off back towards the town and the Girl was left, shivering and near collapse, to continue her snow clearance. It was a very cold and near moribund Girl who staggered back into the castle at the end of her task. There was fierce pride in her undaunted heart as she collapsed in front of the Mistress and the Huskisson and Jenkins. These three stared down at the blue and pinched body beneath them Not one of them could have endured one tenth of the horrors that this wonderful Girl had survived, but they still kicked her by turn in those poor frozen ribs until she got shakily to her numbed feet.

"Just because you have cleared the path - a job any one of us could have done in half the time, don't get ideas, Girl! There is the rest of the day's work to be done before you go to your rest!" sneered the Mistress, aiming a final devastating kick at the Girl's trim athletic stomach. The other two laughed heartily as she bent double, her face contorted in her agony.

"Get on with your work, Slave" said the Mistress. "I want every room cleaned before that useless stomach is filled with the food we pay good money for and you guzzle like the lazy greedy pig you are!"

It was five days before the snow melted and for each of those terrible five days, fresh snow fell every night. The Girl was allowed no respite from her painful outdoor labours in the whole of that time. When at last she awoke to hear the sound of rain falling and knew that the cruel cold tormenting snow was finally being swept away by the warm rain, she wept helplessly to know that her hideous travails were over, at least for a time.

The Mistress walked down the path every day, several times a day, but did not slip once, so good was the job that the Girl had done. Jenkins and Huskisson similarly failed to slip. The three of them gazed at the mighty whip which one of the Earls had been wont to use to punish peasant women who resisted his advances. They fingered it lovingly in turn.

"Never mind, Ma'am" said Jenkins one day after the Girl had once again failed to commit any offence. "Her time will come!"

"I can't think why you need an excuse!." said the sadistic Huskisson. "Just use it, Mistress - just use it on her. Please, Ma'am - use it anyway. It's been lying there all these years, lying idle when it should be used on that Girl."

But Mrs Bottomley was adamant. The Ninth Earl's Whip was only to be used when the Girl deserved it and the two servants had to be satisfied with this. Her crucial transgression would be punished in a suitably ceremonial way, with the Girl being taken down to the cellars and chained facing the wall.

They determined to pile ever more heavy burdens on the hated Girl and as soon as she failed in any task, their vigilant eyes would spot it and the Mistress would be immediately informed. The Mistress, too, was anxious not to miss any opportunity that the Girl might present to them.

The Girl was only too well aware of this, and strove successfully to avoid the fate which one serious misdemeanour would bring upon her head - or back. She would choose, for herself, the time and circumstances of her worst ever torture. She decided on a date in late July, much nearer to the hour when her mission would be completed, and with long enough for her to recover her strength before the final great task.

She knew that once the Mistress had used the Whip on her just one time, the demon-possessed woman would pretty soon become addicted to this latest and worst cruelty.

By the time five months had passed without a good reason for using the Whip, Jenkins, Huskisson and the Mistress had virtually given up hope and the subject had begun to fade from their minds. The Girl had not forgotten, though, and the nearer the time came, the more fearful she got and the greater were her doubts. Could she really see this through to the bitter end!

But we are anticipating - running ahead of ourselves! Let's get back to the present.

Christmas was here! The Festive Season. Peace on Earth and Good Will towards Men! The Mistress had decided to visit her mansion in Bishop's Avenue and spend the festivities there with her beloved husband and a few close relatives.

Jenkins and Huskisson were away for a few days with their respective nearest and dearest. The said nearest and dearest were, truth to tell, far from overjoyed at having these disagreeable persons with them, but Christmas comes but once a year!

The Archivist, Miss Amelia Parradine was spoon-feeding her elderly mother her Christmas dinner and hating every second of her monotonous and disgusting life on the edge of the world, as ever. "How long, Oh Lord - how long?" was her unspoken prayer on that glorious day, when the Saviour of the World was born and fallen Mankind was given hope of eternal life.

Professor Granville was in Madeira with a group of friends. These kind people had become concerned at the good professor's increasing irritability and obvious mental distress.

"Come and join us for a week in the sun, James darling!" had been Dr Jessica Middleton's cheery words. Do you good - get you out of yourself for a bit. I wish you'd tell us what the trouble is, but at least get away for a bit with us!"

To her surprise, the Professor had agreed. He had been in a strange state for a few weeks, now - ever since that freak cold weather at the beginning of the month, come to think of it.