Gillian B : 09 - The Great Biscuit Robbery (mf/F, F/mf)

Post by **TamatoaShiny123** » 5 years ago

We seem to have had a spate of babysitter stories lately. I've already told the tales of the two occasions when I was the babysitter and victim. I think there's only one occasion when I was the perpetrator. (Co-perpetrator, at least.)

Usually, if our parents needed a babysitter, my Aunt Gillian (not her real name, but she does have the same name as I do) provided her services. Aunt Gillian was my Mum's older sister and in her late 40's at this time. (Aunt Gillian was the aunt of mine who had a walk-on part in one of Jon(McA)'s stories a few weeks ago.) She was unmarried and her only regular contact with children was Bob and myself. We especially liked her for the way that she never talked down to us and was never dismissive. In return she expected adult behaviour from us. We respected that and I think were generally better behaved for her than we were for our own parents.

Time with Aunt Gillian looking after us was varied - she was as likely to play football (soccer) with us as to play chess or to set us to tidy her garden. The great thing was that we always felt we were being treated as equals. A babysitter nearer our own age might just possibly have been more fun, but as maiden aunts go, Aunt Gillian was hard to beat.

Aunt Gillian lived in a modernised farmworker's cottage a few miles outside the town where my parents lived. Sometimes when she looked after us she would stay overnight at our house, but her house was within easy cycling distance for Bob and me and, if the weather was good, we would often spend the night there in lieu of being babysat at home. It was on one such occasion when I was about 13 that the events of this story took place (possibly summer 1967).

Bob and I had been playing outside and, about mid afternoon, came into Aunt Gillian's kitchen ravenously hungry and in search of sustenance. I filled the kettle and put it on the kitchen stove. "Yes, please," said Aunt Gillian. Bob made for the cupboard where the biscuits were stored. "No you don't," said Aunt Gillian, "you've only just had lunch." I was as disappointed as Bob. Bob and I had a whispered conference to see if we could think of a way to win Aunt Gillian over. We knew that a straightforward appeal or argument would fail, but that a more imaginative approach might be rewarded.

While the kettle heated, we disappeared into the hallway for a few minutes. When we came back, we were each wearing one of Aunt Gillian's headscarves over our mouths and noses as cowboy-style bandannas. We were armed with pointed fingers as make-believe guns. In best B-movie style, Bob announced, "This is a stick-up - nobody moves and nobody gets hurt!" Aunt Gillian obediently raised her hands while Bob pointed a finger at her. "Go for the safe, Daisy!" said Bob, gesturing me towards the cupboard. (I don't know why, but I was usually "Daisy" in gangster games.) I knelt down in front of the cupboard and pressed my ear against the door, while manipulating an invisible combination lock.

While I was opening the "safe", Bob's attention drifted to watching me instead of Aunt Gillian. She immediately grabbed the kitchen phone extension and (without dialling) yelled, "Get me Scotland Yard! There's a robbery going on here!" Bob turned towards Aunt Gillian and she put the phone down and fled for the kitchen door. Bob and I managed to corner her, keeping her covered with our pointed fingers. Aunt Gillian had escalated the game, so I decided to take a chance. "We'd better get some ropes on her and stop her getting away," I said. I had my eyes on Aunt Gillian as I said it and she stayed in character, so I guessed that it was going to be OK by her. "I'll get some skipping rope," I said and headed for the back door.

I went out to the big storage shed behind Aunt Gillian's house. "Skipping rope" was our term for some rope we knew was there. It was smooth cotton rope with a woven outside like sash cord, but about 10-12mm in diameter. It was soft and very flexible. I don't know if I ever knew what Aunt Gillian had bought it for, but she had several large drums of the stuff, probably over 1000 feet of it. We used it for climbing ropes, overhead runways - all sorts of things. And, of course, it was very good for tying up.

I came back with an assortment of lengths of rope. I waved them at Aunt Gillian and she cowered theatrically. I ordered her to turn her back to me and cross her wrists, which she obediently did. I'm always worried about the damage that rope can do to bare skin, so I hesitated. "Do you want gloves on?" I asked Aunt Gillian. "No need," she replied and pulled the sleeves of her jumper down over her wrists. I tied Aunt Gillian's wrists firmly but gently, just with about four or five turns of rope and a knot - no cinching or anything complicated. I wrapped a length of rope round her arms and chest about five or six times and knotted it behind her back.

Bob had by then opened the "safe" and had got the biscuit tin. The kettle had boiled and been turned off. I took a break from tying Aunt Gillian to make a pot of tea. I put the tea things and biscuit tin on a tray. "Snack time!" I announced. "What about me?" asked Aunt Gillian. "We'd better take her with us," said Bob. "We'd better keep her quiet," I added. I pulled out my hankie (still clean), balled it up and pushed it into Aunt Gillian's mouth. This was her chance to say "no", but she didn't and even opened her mouth for me to gag her. My makeshift bandanna was no longer over my face, but still round my neck. I took it off and tied it over Aunt Gillian's mouth. I turned back to the tea tray, picked it up and carried it into the sitting room, while Bob escorted our Aunt behind me.

Bob steered Aunt Gillian to an arm chair and she sat down. I fetched some rope from the pile I had left in the kitchen and tied her ankles and her knees. I poured the tea for Bob and myself and we sat back to enjoy it with our stolen biscuits.

After about 5 minutes, my attention was drawn by my Aunt sitting more upright in her chair. As I watched, the rope round her arms and chest went slack and then she brought her hands - no longer tied - round in front of her and pushed the rope up, off her shoulders and dumped it on a heap on the floor. As we watched, open mouthed, she ungagged herself, then bent down and untied her legs. Aunt Gillian then sat back in her chair, with a satisfied smile. "Milk and no sugar in my tea, please," she requested.

Aunt Gillian was instantly exalted in our eyes. Not only was she prepared to join in our games and enter the spirit of them, but she could cap the game with an act like that. Our Aunt, the escapologist! In retrospect, it probably wasn't a technically difficult escape, but she saw her chance, she carried it out very neatly and with superb aplomb! (And she let us have the biscuits.)

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully until after tea time (tea the meal, not the drink - I know it's confusing). I remember stacking dirty dishes in the kitchen, trying to jam them all into the space next to the sink, but not making the least attempt to wash them. Aunt Gillian poked a finger into the middle of my back, obviously a pretend gun. Very quietly, but with theatrical menace, she whispered in my ear, "This isn't a robbery - it's a kidnap." (I could have chosen not to play at this point, and it would have been OK by Aunt Gillian.) She held her finger to her lips then led me to an upright kitchen chair and sat me down in it. She had already gathered together the ropes we had used on her earlier. She dumped a pair of woollen gloves in my lap. While I put the gloves on, she put a clean hankie in my mouth and then cleave gagged me with a cotton teatowel. (I hate cleave gags, but I didn't protest on this occasion.) Aunt Gillian then tied my wrists behind my back - rather tighter than I had tied hers. She tied each of my ankles to a chair leg, making sure my socks would protect them. She then produced a huge coil of rope and tied one end to the top of the chair. The rope was wound round me and the chair, starting at shoulder level and working its way down to my waist, then over my lap and under the chair seat until it finally ran out when it was almost down to my knees - probably 15 to 20 turns of rope all told. Aunt Gillian knotted off the free end to one of the chair legs. She then stood up, grinned at me and called out Bob's name.

Bob arrived in the kitchen a minute or so later and couldn't take his eyes off me, all trussed up in the middle of the room. "If you ever want to see your sister again," announced Aunt Gillian - pause for dramatic effect - "you wash that pile of dishes." She then turned to me and said, "You get untied when he finishes." Bob stood scratching his head looking from me to the dishes and back as if weighing up the choice. I mmphed at him angrily and he set to work. Bob took a break part way through to make a pot of tea. When he finished the washing up, he called our Aunt to the kitchen.

"Well done!" she said, "We'd better untie Jill now." "No, you can't, I haven't finished," said Bob, pointing to the one remaining dirty cup beside the sink, "but I've made you some tea." Bob carefully and slowly loaded up a tray with teapot, cups and things and carried it into the sitting room while I sat and fumed. After a few minutes, Bob and Aunt Gillian came back and untied me. I registered annoyance by sticking my tongue out at Bob as soon as the gag was off.

The End

Postscript:

In retrospect, it seems obvious to me now that Aunt Gillian knew a thing or two more about tying up than one would expect. It didn't strike me as odd at the time. The reason only became clear a few months ago.

In January, I showed my Mum some of Jon(McA)'s early stories posted here and to Bob's site. (Some were about me and some about her! This was before I had posted anything myself.) She told me then that she and her two sisters had engaged in tie-up games as kids in the early 1930's. It was their mother (my Gran) who instituted the rule about wearing gloves to protect wrists, which my Mum then passed on to me. (And that explains Aunt Gillian automatically supplying me gloves to wear when she tied me up.)

There's a further twist to the tale. A while back Jon(McA) posted his story of the night I broke my arm and was rushed off to hospital by my Aunt while he was left tied up. That was Aunt Gillian again. Both Jon and I were mortified that she found out (had to find out) about our tying up games. (Today's story dates from a year or two after that incident.) We would have been more forthcoming with Aunt Gillian, had we known about her own history of that sort of game.

Aunt Gillian is now (I think) 78 or 79, but still fit and well. I live quite a long way from her, so I don't see her as often as I would like, but I keep in touch. My Mum told Aunt Gillian about Jon(McA)'s and my stories and she was greatly amused. She saw an early draft of this posting and approved it.

I am hoping to persuade my Mum to relate some of her childhood stories - which I will ghost-write for her if necessary.

Post by **MaxRoper** » 5 years ago

A delightful tale. Thanks for finding and posting!

Post by **Canuck100** » 5 years ago

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Gillian B's stories

01 - Jill's Revenge (fF/mm)
02 - Murder at the Vicarage (ff/f, f/F, f/ff)
03 - Gillian's Birthday Present (*/mf)
04 - Peter and Paul (mm/F, F/mm)
05 - Tying Myself up in Knots (f/self)
06 - The Magic Show (f/f)
07 - Tying Myself up in Knots (Again) (f/self)
08 - Trouble with Tim (f/m, f/self, m/f)
09 - The Great Biscuit Robbery (mf/F, F/mf)
10 - The Lamp Post (m+f+/f+)
11 - Teacher Torture (or: Ol’ Soggy) (ff/FF)
12 - Anna's Story (ff/f, F/ff)
13 - A Game of Soldiers (mm/f, Ff/mm)
14 - A Good Old Fashioned English Hanging (f)
15 - Kidnapping Cathy (f/m, m/ff, ff/m, f/f)
16 - A Surprise Party (fff/f)
17 - Challenging Mum (F/mf, mf/F)
18 - Getting Tied Up in my Studies (f/f, ff/F)
19 - Money for Old Rope (M/F)

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Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section

Stories of Tie Up Games