Chapter 5

As it turned out, James didn’t see Beth again for several weeks. Perhaps I need to explain something about the little world of the traditional sailing boat. Old boats are simply not commercially viable. A modern motor-barge can carry five hundred tons of cargo without, most of the time, concern for weather or tides. A sailing barge may carry perhaps two hundred tons, and because of weather and tidal concerns, will take roughly three times as long to undertake a round trip. The masts and rigging get in the way of loading and unloading, and both physical strength and skills are necessary to manage them. As a result, the thirty or so remaining Thames Spritsail Barges (of the thousands that used to operate around the east and south coasts of Britain) are all in some sort of recreational use – corporate entertainment, sail training, adventure holidays and so on. Some are in private ownership as houseboats or yachts, but all have one thing in common ... they are very expensive to maintain, and who wants to go sailing in the winter? So they are often operated by charities or trusts. The same is true of smaller boats, traditional fishing smacks for example.

Beth was, through the good offices of Jenni Peters, offered a job with a charity operating S.B. ‘Emily Jane’, smack ‘Explorer’ and some dinghies – Wayfarers and Optimists. The arrangement involved office work mainly, but shipping as Mate in Emily Jane when the barge was operating. The charity specialised in cruises for young people with behavioural problems. During the winter she would be working on publicising the charity and communicating with clients. She was delighted to have a job and delighted to have an ‘in’ to the traditional sailing world. In particular, she was delighted to be doing work which she saw as vitally important, reaching out and touching troubled youngsters.

She was ambivalent, however, about the amount of time she would be working. The sailing would be mainly at weekends, sometimes whole weeks; it would be difficult to do any racing ... certainly impossible to seriously pursue it; she just wouldn’t have the time. As a result, she’d be seeing very little of James ... was that a good, or a bad thing?

Meanwhile, James had a lot to think about. He was aware that Beth had taken an enormous risk, emotionally, in telling him what she had. Similarly, an enormous physical risk in jumping into the North Sea to help him the day they met. He felt he owed it to her – and to himself – to explore her ... revelation? He needed to know what she meant, what would be implied by any future relationship. He was beginning to realise that he was thinking in terms of a relationship, even if not in the immediate future. He was extremely attracted to her. But where to start? Not unreasonably, folk who move in the ‘scene’ don’t usually advertise their interests and he was quite sure that what he found on the internet was less than reliable as a guide. Having spun his wheels, so to speak, for a couple of weeks, he spoke to Marty Peters.

“Marty ... I’m stuck. Do you know anyone who might know about ... let’s say, sexual aberrations?”

“Got a problem, James?” He sounded amused, if anything.

“Not personally, no,” James allowed a hint of irritation to colour his voice.

“Sorry, mate; just pulling your leg. No, not really, but you could have a word with Dave Yeomans ... that’s Jenni’s adoptive father. He’s a retired psychiatric nurse. He might at least know where to start looking.” He reeled off a phone number, which James had to ask him to repeat.

He was invited to call on Dave Yeomans Monday of the following week. In the meantime, he amused himself seeing what he could find online ... if ‘amused’ is the right term for what appeared to be a puzzling, if not disturbing, world.

David Yeomans (‘call me Dave’) turned out to be a fit-looking man in his late sixties. He ushered James into his home and made him feel welcome.

Sitting in the lounge, he opened the conversation. “What can I do for you? Marty said you’d be calling, but not what about and you haven’t given much indication of what it’s about either.”

“No ... I haven’t. Do you know anything about domination and submission?”

“Not much! Not my thing at all.”

“Me neither. But someone I’m rather fond of told me she’s that way inclined, and I thought it would be a good move to find out something about it all before getting involved.”

“Ah!” He frowned. “Ever had rape fantasies?”

“What!”

“I forget the figures, but a significant proportion of men admit to fantasising about sex with a woman under duress. A larger proportion off women admit to fantasies of being raped. Not that either really want to fulfil their fantasies, but it’s about control, exerting it, or losing it, in a safe environment. True rape is ... horrible, but some people get a charge out of imagining, and acting out their imaginations; but safely, with someone, or some people, they trust. There are, in fact a small proportion who are so far into the idea they are prepared to ... submit ... to someone they have no reason to trust. I seem to remember it’s about a quarter of women have some desire to be dominated sexually and enjoy pain as a part of it. As I say, I don’t really know much about it, but I do know there’s a whole spectrum of different ... kinks ... humiliation, pain, bondage, exhibitionism ... some of it very odd indeed.”

“Oh ... I’ve been reading some stuff ... I thought it was ... warped imagination.”

“Probably was ... but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t go on in reality. Anyway, you need to talk to someone who really knows ... and I think I know just the person.”

There was at that point the sound of the front door opening.

“Excuse me a moment?”

Dave left the room and James heard the murmuring of voices in the hall. The door opened and an attractive, dark haired woman entered, followed by Dave.

“James, this is my wife Jessica,” he introduced, “sweetheart, this is James Robinson, who Jenni pulled out of the sea last year.”

She smiled warmly at him, “don’t mind him, he’s just not sensitive to other’s feelings. Glad to meet you. I hear you’re honorary uncle to Amy’s two?”

“They’re great kids ... I love them.”

“They need a man around ... not that Amy isn’t wonderful with them ... but we all miss Barry.”

The three of them were silent for a while.

“Jess, have you got the number of that Dominatrix you knew? James needs some advice.”