Garden Shelter

Copyright Oggbashan June 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

 

+++

Five years before I retired from work my wife and I had thought we had planned well for what we would do afterwards. We had sold our London house and were buying a two-bedroom bungalow in a seaside town. The proceeds from our old house meant a reduced mortgage which would be paid off six months before I retired, particularly as my wife had a part-time job in a local supermarket. We thought that by moving earlier, and I would commute for the last five years, we would be established in the new town before retirement.

But that was wrecked when my wife was killed at a bus stop by a drunk and drugged driver fleeing the police in a stolen car. Seven years later he was out of jail, but I was still in grief from my loss.

The insurance on my wife’s life and the cover on the mortgage meant I owned the bungalow and had some capital. I would rather have had my wife.

Now I am retired, I like being out in the open air but I hate getting cold and wet. I had bought a small old camper van which had a dinette that converted to a narrow double bed, had a two burner gas appliance, a small sink and importantly for me, a chemical toilet. But it was small and cramped.

A local DIY store had an end-of-season sale and I bought a display pop-up garden shelter intended for use over a garden bench. It was just under six feet high. It had three sides and was open on the fourth. I had also bought a four-wheeled garden trolley.

I could load the shelter, a couple of chairs, a couple of tarpaulins, etc. on the trolley and take it to wherever I wanted to be as long as it wasn’t too far and had level paths.

Today, like several other recent days, I was beside the forest lake for fishing for which I had an annual membership. I had erected my garden shelter with its back to the wind. The forecast was for bright spells with possible passing showers. Inside the shelter if there was a shower I would be dry. I had two Thermos flasks of coffee and store-bought sandwiches. I thought that a few hours of trying to fish and probably catching nothing would be nice.

The lake was rarely visited because there were better walks with views. Even if I caught no fish I could watch the wildlife and listen to the birds. I relaxed in my folding armchair and sipped some coffee.

+++

My line had twitched but when I hauled it in, the bait had gone. I prepared to replace it but looked at the sky as I lifted my rod. The black cloud approaching seemed to threaten more than the forecast light shower. The garden shelter wasn’t a serious protection. It provided a windbreak and sunshade. It would keep out a light shower, but not proper rain.

I had a large tarpaulin. I put my rod down and covered the roof and sides of the shelter with the tarpaulin, before adding a cut-down window front curtain that had come from a wrecked gazebo. Once I had tied everything down I would be in a waterproof shelter unless there was a strong wind or a really torrential downpour.

I was wondering whether to bait my line again or whether to wait to see if the rain came first when I heard the sounds of someone crashing through the undergrowth behind the shelter. Whoever it was, was running seemingly without noticing the obstacles in their way. I stood behind the shelter and waited to see who it was in such a hurry.

A woman emerged from the trees and ran straight at me before flinging her arms around me.

“Thank goodness you are here, Geoff,” she panted. “I hoped you would be.”

“Why, Annette? But before you answer, come inside. It is about to rain.”

I was aware I had a very curved body in my arms, very skimply dressed. Annette is a neighbour, a widow, who has been a friend for years, even before our partners died. She was wearing a cropped black Lycra sports top showing a muscular bare midriff, and pastel blue Lycra leggings that ended just below her knees. Apart from her trainers she was obviously wearing nothing else.

I unfolded one of my chairs and she sat in it. As I got out my small first air kit to attend to the cuts and scratches on her legs the rain arrived. Annette was still breathless.

“What happened? I asked again.

“I was on the way to the gym but since the rain hadn’t come yet but was coming, I thought I’d do a couple of sessions on the trim trail.”

The trim trail is an out and back set of pieces of exercise equipment alongside the car park. It has parallel bars etc. It is often used by people at weekends but not so often on a weekday evening.

“And?”

“There were only two cars in the car park, yours and mine. I had just done one pass along the trim trial when I saw a man watching me from inside the trees. I thought that was odd since there was no other car there, but I didn’t think much of it until he started following me on the second circuit, not doing the exercises but just keeping a few yards behind me. He came closer and closer and was staring…”

“I’m not surprised, Annette. Dressed as you are, you are well worth staring at…”

“That sort of staring, from you, Geoff, I appreciate. I know you like me. But his staring was odd and I didn’t like it. He was so close I didn’t think I could get to my car before he reached me so I thought you might be here, and even if not, I could probably outrun him. But you are here, Geoff, and I feel safe.”

I laughed.

“Annette, a pensioner like me isn’t much protection. You’re fitter and more muscular than I am. I’m not sure I can tackle a staring maniac.”

“But you are someone else and you used to box at university.”

“That was many decades ago and I wasn’t particularly good even then, Annette.”

“He would be unlikely to attack me with a witness who has a mobile phone. Stupidly I left mine in the car. All I have on me are my car keys.

“I can see,” I said.

Outlined under the tight Lycra covering her cleavage was the shape of her car keys. I passed her the car blanket I had put as the last item on my trolley. As it was a warm day I hadn’t been sure whether to bring it. Annette wrapped it around her, and I was glad that I had.

The rain, that had been pattering on the tarpaulin, became heavier and noisy.

“Whoever it was has probably gone now,” I said. “Unless there is somewhere to shelter. I don’t know of any and the trees wouldn’t keep him dry.”

“Even If he hasn’t, I appreciate Geoff. I don’t know anyone else who would literally put themselves at my feet to help me.”

I got up and sat down in my chair. I had bathed her cuts and applied a couple of Band-Aids to the worst parts.

“I have some coffee in a Thermos, Annette. Like some?”

“Yes, please, but before the coffee? A hug?”

Every time I met Annette in the street she gave me a full body hug and a kiss which I appreciated. If she was wearing a coat she usually opened it to pull me close to her. I knew she wanted me but I had been reluctant. Was it too soon? Perhaps not. I knelt down in front of her. She took off the blanket and pulled my head against her cleavage. I winced as my nose hit the car keys.

“Oops!” Annette said. “I forgot those.”

She pulled them out before heaving my head back against her. I was drowning between her breasts and being swamped by her perfume. Annette wrapped her arms around my head and held me close, so close I could barely breathe.

She relaxed her hold.

“Turn around please, Geoff.”

I didn’t know why but I complied. Annette pulled my head back against her top. before i knew what she intended she lifted the lower edge of it and forced it down over my face. i was plunged into darkness with my head nestled between her breasts. The Lycra tightened over my face. Annette’s arms crossed over my head and her legs scissored around me.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Geoff, and now I think I’ve got you.”

She had. I couldn’t escape the tight top and her legs were clamping my arms to my sides.

“I was going to go on to the Gym. Now I think I want to do a different set of exercises with Geoff. Your agreement is not required.”

Annette’s hand clamped over my encumbered mouth.

“To say no? You have to shake your head, if you can. To accept that you are coming home with me for a meal and a night in my bed, try to nod…”

Breathing Annette’s perfume, firmly held by her arms and legs, I felt that her invitation was hard to refuse. I tried to nod. I had very little movement.

“Was that a nod?”

I tried again.

“It was! Thank you, Geoff. You won’t regret it.”

Annette unclamped her arms and legs, lifted her top and got out of the chair to kiss me again and again.

+++

Half an hour later, after the rain had passed, we packed everything up and went back to the car park. There was no sign of the man who had been following Annette. I arranged to come to Annette’s house in about an hour with my overnight things. I followed her car all the way home but there was nothing untoward. We had discussed whether we should tell the police but he hadn’t done anything. Annette just thought he might have done. But she would tell the local police station, not the emergency line.

+++

When I arrived at Annette’s house I asked about the police response.

“Geoff, they said mine was the fourth report in a week. His grab for me has been the most serious. They will be sending patrol cars at regular intervals and the forestry owners are printing notices to go in the car parks advising women to be careful. But I like that trim trial and use it most days.”

“Then I’ll come with you Annette. While the weather is good I like using my garden shelter.”

“OK? Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, why not?”

“But, before then, an evening meal and a night for sex which I have been missing.”

+++

She was like a tigress in bed, but she was able to stop herself many times just before it was too late for me.I wasn’t sure whether I was Annette’s sex partner or her victim. Because of my age I was only able to manage twice during the night but those two times lasted for more than an hour.

After breakfast I went back to my house to get my camper and drove us to the car park. There were four other cars already there but no one around. While I started to unload my trolley, Annette stripped off her track suit and had started on the Trim Trail. I was behind the camper when she shouted:

“Geoff!”

I came around the camper to see that a man was behind Annette and groping her breasts. I rushed up to him and hit him hard in the lower back. He released his hold on Annette who swung round and hit him hard in the stomach. As he doubled up, she hit him again on the chin and he slumped in a heap.

I dragged his semi-conscious body across to the camper.

“Annette? Can you get the sleeping bag out, please? It’s in the cupboard next to the sink.”

He was coming too but before he was fully conscious I had zipped him into the sleeping bag, tightened the hood around his head, fed the drawstrings through the ring attached tothe zip and tied them tight. I used the ropes I had for tying the tarpaulin down to bind him firmly.

“Annette? Can you ring the police? 999 this time.”

When she finished the call she retrieved the man’s small back pack that had fallen off as I dragged him.

“The police will be here in ten minutes,” Annette said. “I wonder what he has in here?”

“I think you should leave it for the Police,” I said.

“You’re probably right. Where’s his bike?”

Our captive twisted and was sick.

“About twenty yards down that path behind a bush,” he said.

“Annette? Can you get it?”

She came back carrying it because it had a bike lock on, just as a police car arrived. A policewoman got out first, followed by a male police sergeant and two others.

“What have we got here? The policewoman asked.

“Someone who attacks women. He grabbed my breasts but I wasn’t alone.” Annette said. “That is his backpack, and I have just retrieved his bicycle.”

The policewoman looked in the backpack.

“Duct tape? Rope? A knife? Looks like a complete rapist’s kit.”

“A failed rapist,” I replied. “He isn’t going anywhere except to a cell.”

“OK, Sir. Who are you?” The policewoman asked our captive.

He gave a name. The policewoman queried it on her handheld computer.

“Try again, sunshine. You must have a record.”

He gave a different name, Daniel Jonas.

“That’s more like it, Daniel. Convicted sex offender on the register who should be wearing a tag. I can’t see if you have one while you’re bundled up in a sleeping bag. Was he wearing one?”

“No,” Annette said. “His legs were bare below his shorts.”

+++

The next couple of hours were boring while we went to the police station to make statements. The police had retrieved his car from the car park on the other side of the woodland but a search only revealed a small amount of cannabis in a grinder for personal use – not enough to really be an issue.

Annette and I returned to the car park. Once I had erected my shelter we sat down, looking over the lake. We just sat and talked for hours, which was pleasant. Although I had known Annette for many years we had rarely had such a long session together.

+++

That night, and for the next two weeks, most nights we had a meal together, either at her place or mine, or in a restaurant before Annette made love to me. Although I tried, I was really the passive partner. At my age I don’t have the stamina a fit Annette has, but even she found hours of lovemaking tiring. In the morning I often woke up to a sound of gentle snoring beside me. It was a comforting sound.

+++

Back beside the lake I had erected the garden shelter but the rain had come. We were sitting inside drinking coffee as the rain made a noise on the tarpaulin, but we were dry.

Suddenly two men appeared in front of the shelter. They were wearing streaming waxed jackets with the hoods up and bandanas across their lower faces. They were both carrying shotguns.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” I said. “Come in out of the rain.”

They entered. Neither had to stoop. That meant they were under five feet eight inches tall – a useful piece of information.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“No,” One said abruptly. We want information from you, or else…”

“Information? What information?”

“You two were responsible for the arrest of Daniel. He had something with him we want.”

“But the police took his backpack, his bicycle and his car. They found nothing except a minute amount of cannabis.”

“We know. But he was our drug mule. He should have had two kilos of cocaine.”

“We never saw it,” Annette said.

“But you found his bike. Show us where, bitch!”

They waited while we put our coats in. In one pocket I had my better mobile. As I put my jacket on I reached into the pocket, found and pressed a mute button before pressing the red emergency button. It was now connected to the emergency services. They could hear us, but we wouldn’t hear them.

Annette led us back to the car park and down the path to where Daniel’s bike had been behind the bushes. As she did, I spoke about where we were and asked why they were threatening us with shotguns. I was told to shut up. I hoped I had given the police enough information but I wasn’t sure.

The four of us looked around the bushes. Nothing, and no sign of any disturbed earth. Annette took the path to the other car park, and all four of us looked as we went. In the car park was a white Ford Van. I looked carefully. The number plate looked as if it was on top of another, so it was probably a cloned plate. I leant against the van and tried to read the VIN on the dashboard but the first half was under a parking ticket. I memorised what I could see – the last five digits.

After another ten minutes of useless searching they ordered us back to the lakeside. They tied Annette to one the chairs and gagged her. They forced me to my knees in front of her, gagged me, tied me with my head

In her cleavage, and then left.

“Don’t move for at least ten minutes or…”

I was trying to move my gag by rubbing my face against Annette but it wasn’t moving. She was pushing against the top of my head. I stayed still until I heard her speak.

“Geoff, my gag is off and I think I can get my left hand free. Keep still while I try.”

It was another five minutes before her left hand was free. She fumbled to remove my gag. While she did I was being smothered in her cleavage. As the gag was removed I panted for breath.

“OK, Annette, can you reach in my pocket and find my mobile? It is connected to the Police. They can hear us but they can’t hear them because the mute is on. Turn that off…”

It was a struggle but Annette found the phone. She spoke to the Police,told them where we were and the descriptions of the two me. I added the registration plate, stating that it was probably false and what I had seen of the VIN number. The police said they would be with us in a quarter of an hour but would try to stop the men getting away. Five minutes later we heard distant sirens approaching both sides of the wood. Another five minutes and two armed policemen and a policewoman found us. It took a couple of minutes to release us. One of the police was speaking all the time on his radio.

While Annette and I were drinking coffee from our thermos one of the policeman said as he listened to his radio:

“Good. But no shotguns? No drugs? OK. We have a dog unit on the way.”

He spoke to me.

“Can you describe the shotguns. Geoff?”

“Yes,” I said. “Single barrel. Probably twelve bore, cheap Spanish copies, with engraving on the barrels. Showy but crude.”

“Not cut down?”

“No. Full length.”

“Thanks. They must have concealed them somewhere. I hope the dog will find them.”

It wasn’t a dog. It was four dogs and they searched the path leading from the lake to the other car park. A quarter of an hour later the dog handlers came back to the garden shelter. They had found the shotguns, a large bag of cash and most importantly, in a rotten tree trunk about thirty yards from where Daniel had left his bicycle, the cocaine. The police were ecstatic. Now they had another charge against Daniel for drug supply and possibly the two men whose van had been stopped about half a mile away from the car park. They hoped there would be DNA on all the items as Annette and I had said the men hadn’t been wearing gloves.

The police helped me to dismantle and pack the shelter before Annette and I went to the police station to make statements. After a long time, we were alone in the interview room while the statements were being typed. We had cups of tea.

The police had downloaded the Council’s CCTV of the other car park where the van had been. Stupidly the two men hadn’t been wearing masks as they changed the number plates and took out the shotguns. They hadn’t been wearing gloves so their fingerprints were everywhere. The van was theirs, legitimately registered to their computer company. The police had obtained warrant to search the two men’s private addresses and the company base. In the houses they had found no drugs but over one hundred thousand pounds of cash. But in the company’s buildings they found a cannabis farm with fifty mature plants and a cocaine processing laboratory with several kilos of cocaine just lying around.

“I liked having you tied in my cleavage,” Anette said unexpectedly.

“Why? I was suffocating as you tried to get the gag off,” I replied.

“But it was arousing me that you were so helpless and at my mercy.”

“Maybe, but I could have suffocated, Annette.”

“I wouldn’t have gone that far but…”

Anette demonstrated again my hauling my head into a tight embrace in her cleavage. That was nice but frustrating because I couldn’t do anything to her.