12 - Anna's Story
Story index at the bottom
By Gillian B
Fri Jul 31 20:51:58 GMT Daylight Time 1998
Prologue
As promised, this is a story from my Mum's childhood. She didn't feel that her writing skills would be good enough to tell the tale to her own satisfaction. Accordingly this is "Anna's Story - as told to Gillian B".
This all happened a long, long time ago, so some of the details are hazy in my Mum's mind. I have, as usual, resorted to fictionalising where necessary to fill in the gaps. As it's her story, I will tell it in the first person and do my best to capture my Mum's voice (don't get too confused now). The names have, of course, all been disguised.
(Pronunciation note: "Mama" stresses on the second "a" - muh'MA is about as close as I can phoneticise it.)
Anna's Story
This happened when I was about 10, probably in the Spring of 1933. I lived on my father's farm with my parents and my two sisters (and a great many animals). I'm Anna (Annie) and I was the middle sister - Gillian (Jilly) was 14 and Beatrice (Bess) was 9 (only 13 months younger than me).
Most Saturday mornings, we would troop off to the nearest village to join the other children from the locality in the Village Hall, where for an old halfpenny, we would see a film show. The programme usually consisted of a single chapter from each of two serials and a short factual film. Most of the films we saw were British, but there were a few American imports (I particularly remember Tom Mix). The films were mostly tales of high adventure, with fainting heroines, hissable villains and tall dashing heroes with patent-leather hair.
Our play together was of course heavily influenced by this diet of serials. Jilly was the natural leader of the three of us (she was bossy, in other words). She took care always to cast herself in the heroic roles. Bess was invariably the helpless heroine and I was usually the villain, but also filled in any other minor roles that might come up in the course of play. (For instance, if Jilly was Sexton Blake, then I had to be Tinker as well as the villain.) If the villain was the more interesting character, then of course it would work out that Jilly was the villain and I was the hero.
Poor Bess spent an awful lot of time tied up in these games. Usually it was me (as the villain) who did the tying, but Jilly did her share too. Finally, the worm turned. Bess told me one day that she thought it wasn't fair that she always got tied up. We thought about it for a while and decided to commandeer the next game that came along and turn the tables on Jilly.
The format of the games was fairly routine. Annie captures Bess and ties her up somewhere, Jilly searches the farmyard, Jilly finds and frees Bess and sometimes Jilly ties up Annie for good measure. Bess and I decided that we would just lie in wait for Jilly and tie her up when she came looking for Bess. We thought that with two of us on the job, we could probably tie her up even in the face of resistance.
In the stable (we still used heavy horses on the farm), there was an empty stall which was used as a general junk store and we decided to lay our trap there. This stall featured quite often in our games, so we knew that Jilly would look there eventually. The stall was enclosed, so it would be easier to corner Jilly there. Also, there were all sorts of useful materials on hand. We gathered an old chair, binder twine, rope and some rags.
I need to digress slightly onto the matter of rope. Our main problem was that the only rope we had was far too thick to tie wrists effectively. We used binder twine instead (there were big wooden spools with literally miles of it easily available). The problem was that it's tricky stuff to use. It's not very strong - you can snap a single strand in your bare hands quite easily. We discovered that putting lots of turns of twine round the victims wrists or ankles worked quite well, but was so rough it was likely to take the skin off. After one or two nasty injuries, our Mama laid down a rule that if we really had to tie each other up, we must make sure that nothing went onto bare skin. Accordingly, if we tied anyone up without them wearing gloves, we risked the wrath of Mama.
We laid quite an elaborate trap (of which I'm still proud). You need to imagine the scene. The stall we were in was a separate room (like a loose-box) and wider than the other stalls - it might once have been specially for grooming or harnessing. The door was narrower than the stall, so there was room to hide on either side of it. Various boxes and sacks were stacked down both sides of the stall and there was a manger across the far end. Our finest artistic touch was an old pair of my boots, carefully propped up on their heels and placed so that anyone coming into the stall would think there was someone sitting on the floor at the far end, behind the sacks on the left. We had put an old chair in the middle of the stall, but we hoped its significance would not be instantly obvious to Jilly.
Bess and I waited quietly with growing impatience and excitement until we heard Jilly enter the stable. The plan worked perfectly. Jilly walked into the stall, paused, spotted the boots at the far end and started towards them. (We worried that she wouldn't see them.) We grabbed her from behind and her astonishment was wonderful to behold. I held Jilly's arms behind her back, while Bess wound twine round her wrists and knotted it. It was a chilly day, so Jilly had gloves on already. We pushed her down onto the chair we had ready and, while I held her down, Bess wrapped rope around Jilly and the chair back. I checked and re-tied Bess's knots. We paused for a moment, in a spirit of self-congratulation, but a kick aimed at my shins spurred us into action again. We used twine to tie Jilly's ankles. In those days, we wore thick socks and hob-nailed boots over our stockings when we were around the farm, so, again, there was no need for any extra protection. We used rope to tie Jilly's bound ankles to one of the chair legs, putting her in a slightly "side-saddle" pose. More twine round Jilly's knees and a piece of rope over her lap made her completely helpless.
We usually didn't bother with gags in our tying up games, but Bess and I had already decided that Jilly would be getting the full treatment from us. She had been yelling quite loudly all through the tying, so we felt it was in a way appropriate too. In earlier games, we had already found out that just tying a cloth over someone's mouth doesn't do much. However, one of the serials had recently included a very explicit gagging scene where the heroine had a cloth stuffed in her mouth and then a bandanna pushed between her teeth and knotted behind her head. I tried it out on Bess one afternoon, then she tried it on me and we both agreed that was what we were going to do to Jilly. There was always a supply of clean cotton rags in the stable for use as polishing cloths, so we were able to choose two suitable pieces for gagging. Jilly was clearly surprised by the gag and didn't like it much, but it was very effective.
Bess and I discussed blindfolding Jilly, but decided it was much more fun if she could see us watching her. As I said, it was a chilly day and we soon began to feel cold sitting still. Jilly was starting to shiver. Reluctantly, we decided the game was over. As we untied Jilly, we decided to see if we could smuggle her back into the house with her wrists still bound. (We had seen a film where a bound heroine was moved around in broad daylight by having her clothes arranged to cover her bonds.) Bess went back to the house for some extra clothes, while I freed Jilly's knees then retied them under her dress and petticoat.
We untied Jilly from the chair then wrapped a winter scarf over her mouth and nose to cover her gag. A big tartan shawl round her shoulders covered her bound wrists. We put a hat on her head to complete the outdoor ensemble (almost no-one went out bare headed in those days). Her appearance would now pass for a dressing-up game.
Bess and I walked each side of Jilly, each clutching an elbow and steering her back towards the house. I don't know what we planned to do when we got her there, but an immobilised big sister was too good an opportunity to waste. However, fate intervened before we got very far. Jilly broke away and, despite her tied knees, tried to run. After about five steps, she fell heavily and banged her head as she went down. Mama heard the commotion and she and our cook came out of the house to investigate. We all reached Jilly together. Bess and I immediately started untying her. It took Mama a moment to realise that Jilly was tied up. She gasped but said nothing, then helped Jilly to sit up and removed her gag.
Jilly was stunned but apart from a cut forehead seemed not badly hurt. Mama and Cook carried Jilly between them to the kitchen while Bess and I trailed behind. Mama telephoned for the local doctor and while we waited for him to drive from the village, Bess and I confessed the whole story. Mama was furious, not because of the tying up, but because of the risk we had put Jilly in. We wilted under the force of her anger. Cook watched on and, in the lull after our telling off, commented that if we had been her children we'd have got a dose of our own medicine.
Mama was still wild with anger and thanked Cook for her excellent suggestion. My heart sank. Mama was the kindest of creatures, but when roused, anything could happen. Mama went out of the kitchen while Cook made sure Jilly was comfortable in the fireside armchair and generally fussed over her. Bess and I just stood and looked at each other in dread with dry mouths and shaking knees.
Mama returned with an old bedsheet from her rag-bag. She proceeded to tear it into strips and it became obvious what was going to happen to us. Mama ordered us to sit on upright kitchen chairs. By the time the doctor arrived, Bess and I were both well tied up. Mama hadn't tied us very tightly, but she had made her point. My wrists were tied in front of me and my ankles were tied together. A long strip of sheet went round my arms and body and the back of the chair. Another long strip went over my lap and my bound wrists and under the chair seat. Mama had also gagged me with a strip of sheet between my teeth. I could probably have escaped without too much difficulty, but that wasn't an option under Mama's and Cook's beady eyes. Cook declared that it served us right too.
Bess received exactly the same treatment as me and when the doctor arrived, we were sitting side by side miserably contemplating our fate. He came in and handed his hat and coat to Cook then looked startled when he saw Bess and me. Mama told him not to worry and asked him to look at Jilly. The doctor cleaned and dressed the cut on Jilly's forehead and declared her otherwise all right. Mama removed my gag and told me to tell the doctor exactly what had happened to Jilly and why Bess and I were tied up. I did so in a faltering voice, with much prompting and acute shame and embarrassment. The doctor grunted, examined my bound wrists and declared that it probably wouldn't do me any harm. With that, he left.
I expected that to be the end of it, but it wasn't. When the doctor had gone, Mama told Bess and me that our Father would deal with the matter. Mama took Jilly up to her bedroom to pamper her some more. Bess and I were left in the kitchen with Cook. As soon as Mama had gone upstairs, I pleaded with Cook to untie us. Her response was to say it wasn't her place to and she came over and re-tied my gag. Bess and I had over an hour to wait before our Father returned home. I wasn't really uncomfortable tied up, but it was one of the longest hours of my life watching the clock hands creep round.
Father was in a good mood when he got home and seemed to be torn between anger over what had happened to Jilly and amusement over Mama's treatment of Bess and me. He used Cook's big scissors to free us, then gave us a surprisingly mild telling off. We were given a quick supper in the kitchen instead of joining the rest of the family and sent to bed early.
The next morning, it was as if none of this had ever happened and it was never mentioned by my parents again.
Postscript
Mum and I picked over a number of her recollections, enjoying several good laughs at the expense of other members of my family. Most of her anecdotes were too fragmentary to weave into worthwhile stories. This one, however has stayed fresh and detailed in her mind (not surprisingly).
There are a couple of points arising out of this story. One is consent. In children's games, when I was little, we had a "safeword" - you could say "cross-keys" to suspend a game for any reason from a stone in your shoe to a serious worry about safety. Misuse of the safeword and failure to honour it were both frowned on. When my Mum was little, "pax" was her local equivalent. Mum is adamant that if Jilly had said "pax", she and Bess would have stopped, but yells of protest were taken as part of the game. The second point is Gran's draconian punishment of my Mum and Bess. Mum points out that parental punishments were often far more severe at that time than we would consider acceptable today. She says that while the punishment she and Bess received was unusual and deeply humiliating, she didn't consider it either unfair or excessive at the time, and thought she had been let off lightly compared with the beating she might otherwise have had.
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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)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section