BREAK ME FREE

by Summer Jordan

  “Aye, might seem a lot, but the next farm has ninety, some of which used to be ours before father sold it. The Carsons, just to the North of here, have well over a hundred… And a wee castle to boot.”

  “Right. Well, then what live stock have you got to fill these forty acres?”

  “Those cows you see around the trough, they’re our dairy herd made up of seventy Friesians. In the furthest field is our herd of forty highland cattle, they’re for the beef market.”

  “So you’re a cattle farmer?”

  “No, got us more than a few sheep too.” Bruce pointed towards the foothills in the distance. “We use our grazing rights on the moorland for our three hundred sheep.”

  “Crops?”

  “You joking, lad?” Bruce kicked his heel into the turf, revealing stones just below the surface. “ Top soil is too poor, thinner than the hair on my head.” Bruce hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “The wife has a compost garden where she grows our vegetables and cooking herbs, but that’s all that grows here.”

  “Right.” Serge put his hands on his hips and faced the farmhouse. “I saw some lovely looking horses on the way in. I take they’re yours?”

  Bruce grinned with pride. “The white one is called Frosty, she’s mine, while the Brown s called Mocha and she’s the wife’s. We’re not very imaginative with names. Last but not least we also have a dozen chickens, and a really annoying cock. I’m not talking about the miserable bastard on the next farm before you ask.” Bruce but his hand on his stomach. “I’m getting a bit peckish, let’s see how the women are getting on in the kitchen.”

  Tanya sat at the large oak table. She hadn’t seen a real range cooker and she wasn’t sure if the large stone sink was in fact an old bath. The sound of the cleaver striking the chopping board made her think of what Serge has told her. “Is Serge right? Do you have to kill your own chickens?”

  Beatrice stood at the counter with the cleaver in hand. “Aye we do, Dear.”

  “Did it make you sick? At the beginning I mean.”

  “No. Watched my mother do it as a wee child.” Beatrice continued to chop the carrots. “So it was never new to me.”

  “Great.”

  “Not just slaughtering, Dear. I have to pluck and clean out their innards too.”

  Tanya’s face had turned a sickly grey. “Christ.”

  “I’ll show you later. It would be good for you to know, Dear.”

  “I have enough problems getting my chicken burger out the box without spilling sauce down my top. I can’t even begin to think what mess I’ll make gutting a bird.”

  “I taught my two daughters to do it at the age of twelve.” Beatrice chuckled. “Then again, that might be why they ran off down in London.”She turned to face a pale-looking Tanya. “Seriously, I think it’s good to know where exactly your food comes from. Makes you appreciate it more and I swear it makes it taste better.”

  Tanya held her head in her hands and stared at the fruit ball. “Vegetarianism never felt so appealing.”

  “Poppycock, Dear. I’ll make a farmer’s wife out of you, don’t you worry about that.” Beatrice rolled up her sleeves. “In fact, there’s no time like the present. Come with me.”

  “I’m not going to behead a chicken now am I?”

  “No, we’re going to collect some spuds from the garden.”

  “Promise.”

  “Come on.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bentham packed his suitcase when his bedroom door opened. He glanced up and saw his ex-wife, Roxanna standing with nothing on except his lilac work shirt. “What are you doing, Rox…?”

  “I think you forgot something.” Roxanna started slowly unbuttoning the shirt.

  Bentham walked over and pulled the shirt over her shoulder. “Thanks, I’ve been looking for that everywhere. I have to go to Edinburgh, right away. Following a lead.”

  “Hey, you were desperate for sex, now I’m offering myself to you and you couldn’t give two fucks about me.”

  “Ten years, Roxanna. Ten fucking years we were married. And you pick now to act all sexy.”

  “Get out of your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “I said get out of your clothes… Now.”

  “Rox, Babe.” Bentham stared at her ski slope breasts. “I can’t.”

  “You can make this as hard as you want to. But I want to see if we still have something. And you’re not leaving this bedroom until I find out.”

  Bentham loosened his tie. “Ok, but you have to be quick. Norman is waiting for me at bus stop on Grange Road….”

  “Our record was eight minutes, he won’t even know you’re late.”

  Bentham’s eyes dropped to her shaven mound. “You shaved your pussy for him? I was asking for you to do that for years.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t too scared to lick me, then I might have made more of an effort. In fact….” Roxanna climbed on bed and lay on her back before parting her legs. “Show me that you still love me.”

  “I’m in a rush, Rox,”

  “Dave.” Roxanna grinned as she stared at his stiff shaft. She raised her legs and clamped it between her naked feet. “Don’t make a girl beg for attention.”

  “You certainly know how to get attention, Rox.”

  Roxanna slowly started moving her feet up and down. “I know exactly what you like.”

  Bentham gulped as he closed his eyes. “Y … You certainly do.”

  Bentham stared at her nether lips.”I don’t think I’ve seen it properly before, you know with the lights on.”

  “What do you think?”

  Bentham licked his lips with anticipation. “Looks quite… appetising. Is it clean?”

  “As a whistle.”

  Bentham knelt between Roxanna’s legs. He licked away like a puppy cleaning spilt milk. He became more confident with every one of Roxanna’s moans. “Doesn’t taste that bad. I don’t know why I was scared all those years.”

  “Dave?”

  “Yeah?”

  Roxanna forced his head down with her hand. ”Shut up and keep licking until I say you can stop.” He continued to lap away and didn’t surface until his tongue lacked the strength to carry on.

  Bentham screeched as she pulled on his ear. Saliva glistened on his cheeks and chin. “What’s that for, Rox?

  “Fuck me.”

  “Just have to ask, you know?”

  “Fuck me hard. Get your own back for all those years I cheated on you.”

  “Rox, what’s got into you?”Bentham winced as Roxanna slapped him across the face. The tingling in his skin lit a fire in his eyes.

  “Spot whining and just fuck me.”

  “You’re going to get it like never before.”

  “Show me exactly what you mean.”

  Bentham rattled away on top of Roxanna as if he were a man possessed. Sweat oozed from his skin and dripped from his nose. His muscles ached as he pounded away like pistons on a steam locomotive. “Shit, I haven’t got a condom.”

  “I doesn’t matter.”

  “You on the pill?”

  “Christ, I forgot how much you talked.”Roxanna slapped him again and pushed him off. She straddled him and began grinding away like a pestle and mortar. “Oh yeah, I can feel it now. Oh yeah.” Her thighs slapped against his pelvis and coincided with the creak of the bedsprings.

  “Shit, I can’t hold, it. It’s here, Rox, baby.”

  “Don’t you dare, you bastard. You wait for me.”

  “No, I can’t.” Bentham, screamed out. “Shit, Shit.”

  “Want me to stay, and have more nights like this? Then you hold on.”

  “Oh, Oh…” Bentham, closed his eyes and shook his head as his body tensed. He then felt the tension snap as his emptied years of frustration in one go. His eyes closed as his heart continued to pound in his chest. A healthy sweat cooled on his forehead. “Fuck, yeah.”

  “You have to finish me off.”

  “What?”

 
Roxanna climbed off and lay at his side. “Finger me, I’m nearly there.”

  “You’re joking?”

  Roxanna’s deranged eyes and panting lips convinced Bentham. “Do I look like I’m messing?”She felt his finger tickle her clitoris and held his wrist tightly. “Yeah that’s the spot stay there.” Her breaths were heavy and lustful, her eyes rolled back as she pushed her head into the pillow. “Oh Dave that’s it, I’m coming, I’m coming, Oh fuck Dave, I’m coming. Yes, yes fucking yes.”

  They lay in bed in silence, until Dave was brave enough to talk. “So, what was all that about?”

  “I turn forty next week. I turn forty and I feel I have nothing. I just wanted to know if I still had you?”

  Bentham phone began to ring. He glanced at Roxanna. “I really have to get this.” He grimaced as she rolled over and showed him her back. He accepted a call from Norman. “All right Norm, I’m coming.”

  “Where the fuck are you? I’m literally freezing my balls off waiting for you.”

  “I’m getting ready.”

  “We should be approaching Watford by now, hurry up.”

  “On my way.”

  Bentham tossed the phone on the cabinet. “Al, my love.”

  “Fuck, you.”

  “Rox.”

  “No, Dave. You always throw it in my face that I left you. But believe me, you left me a long time before I had an affair.”

  “What the fuck are you on about?”

  “I married a policeman, you married the police force.”

  “I told you, way back, that policing was a lifestyle rather a job.” Bentham placed his hands on his bald head. “And life as a detective is even more demanding.”

  “You love your job more than you ever loved me. Now fuck off. I’ll be gone when you get back.”

  Bentham sat up and started to dress. “Fine, you go back to your Javier, or whatever fucking barman’s name is.”

  “Jose, he’s called Jose.”

  “If you really love me, then stay. We’ll work it out when I get back from Scotland.”

  Bentham parked the Jaguar beside the bus stop. A fuming Norman threw his sports bag on backseat and slammed the door, before opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat.

  “Right, this better be one good fucking excuse, or I’ll slap you silly.” Norman then spotted Bentham’s swollen lip and bruised eye socket. “Fuck, what happened to you?”

  “I just had the best sex… ever.”

  “Fuck, with who..? With what?”

  “I didn’t just have sex with the ex-wife, she destroyed me. I mean, pulverised me. I thought I’d end up part of the bed frame before he finished with me.”

  “Looks like it, tell me more.”

  Bentham’s smile wouldn’t leave his face. “We have an eight hour journey ahead, so that should just about be enough time to boast about the best fifteen minutes of my life.”

  “You lasted a whole quarter of an hour?”

  “Ok, ten minutes.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Serge held the tumbler of scotch close to his chest. The crackling of flames from the open fire licked their way up the brick chimney. “I can’t stress how much I love it here.”

  “Aye it is, lad. if truth be told, I’ll be sad to leave.”

  “Are you really sure you’re making the right decision? With our help you might want to say in game a bit longer.”

  “Farming is a hard life, it’s not for a man of my age.” Bruce sighed and ran his hand through his wavy grey hair. “My knees are worn out and my back is weak.”

  “Time stops for no one. You must have had a few farmhands over the years?”

  “Aye, I’ve had a few indeed. I was training up a lad, treated him like he was my own.”

  “So what happened to him?”

  “Danny has a fiancée, she’s a bright wee girl, went to university and everything. Last year she was offered a job in New Zealand. There was only ever going to be one winner there.” Bruce grimaced and sighed. “Still, I did everything to keep him, promised him the farm if he stayed, but he told me it was the farm or the girl. I was bitter for a wee while, but hold no grudges against the lad now.”

  “Women, hey.”

  “Aye, bloody women.” Bruce took a swig from his tumbler. “She was real beauty though, had huge disk like eyes as blue as the spring sky. Believe me. If I was Danny, I would have gone too.”

  “What does Beatrice think about selling the farm next year?”

  “She can’t wait to move into a wee bungalow in town.”

  “Really?”

  “Bea struggles to look after such a big house these days.” Bruce leaned across arm of the chair and rubbed his finger across the lamp table. He chuckled and nodded with satisfaction “Argh, give her due, she must have cleaned here today.”

  “Get many passersby? Ramblers, maybe?”

  “Aye, ramblers, but only in the summer. Usually bastard Englishmen, but they’re everywhere these days.”

  “I heard of the rivalry.”

  “It goes back to the beginning of time. But these days it due to them buying up farms for their expensive horses. Play farming I call it.”

  “I’m really keen to learn from you.”

  “I hope you are. I must warn you, I have no patience in my old age.”

  “Don’t worry, I worked with right bastards in the past and managed to still be friends.”

  “Aye, we all know a bastard or two in our time.”

  “Out of interest. How much will you ask for this place?”

  “How much would you pay for a place like mine? Go, on. Let’s see if we are batting on the same pitch.”

  “I haven’t much of a clue about property in the area.”

  “Keeping your cards close to your chest I see. Clever bastard.”

  “No, honest, we only came north yesterday.”

  Bruce rubbed his chin, his eyes seeming more suspicious with every word. “Only yesterday? What’s your background then?”

  “We worked in import/exporting to Europe.”

  “Aye, trading what?”

  “All sorts, but mainly used cars. They love them in Eastern Europe. Anyway, we had enough of city life and wanted some fresh air.”

  “So, you chose to farm in wet and windy Scotland, just like that.”

  Serge smiled and leaned forward to place his tumbler on the coffee table. “Where I’m from is just like what you see around you here. The green rugged hills, the purple mountains in the distance. That certain chill you get when you step out from the house, that only the fresh virgin air can give you.”

  “Aye, can see what you mean. But why don’t you just go back to Poland?”

  “The girl, Tanya.”

  “She’s just a friend though?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aye, But you love her, right?”

  “I ….” Serge blushed as the door to the living room opened and Tanya stepped inside.”We’ll have to chat after dinner by to look of it.”

  “Aye we will. Dinner overrides everything, even talk from the heart.”

  Tanya smiled with her arms folded across her chest. “Talk from the heart? Can I ask what you were talking about?”

  Bruce struggled from his chesterfield armchair. He smiled and placed a hand on Tanya’s shoulder “Serge, loves his farming more than a pig loves rolling in shit. I think he’ll be happy here.”

  “I know.”

  “But what would make him happier is if you would call it home too.”

  Tanya covered her mouth and laughed. Her rose tinted cheeks illuminated her smile. “What’s he like?”

  The long oak table was covered with a spread of food that would satisfy even the greediest of diners. A large roast chicken sat beside a gammon joint, sundries of roasted vegetables filled small china bowls that surrounded the two meats. Serge beamed at Beatrice. ”I think that is the finest meal I have ever seen. Thank you so very much.”

  “At the beginning Tanya claimed she coul
dn’t cook. But I think she must be a lying little minx because she cooks as well as me.”

  Serge glanced at Tanya. “You never fail to surprise.”

  “She’s the one who’s lying, all I did was peel the carrots and boil the potatoes.”

  After dinner Serge lay on the small single bed. The whisky had made him feel sleepy but his eyes remained open. His mind was restless and his head was filled of thoughts about how his future might pan out. He heard the creak of the door and footsteps in the corridor Then followed the noise of something being pushed under his door. “Hello?” The footsteps moved down the corridor before the close of a door. Serge, stood from the bed and found the switch for the bedside lamp. A small envelope sat folded in half at the foot of the door. Picking it up he opened it read the scrawled message written in pen.

  Dear Serge

  Was going to send a text, but remembered you threw my mobile away. Anyway, just wanted to say a big thank you for everything you have done for me. I was very wrong the other day when I said you were as bad as Vlad. You’re anything but. Good night Serge. I wish you the sweetest of dreams

  X

  Serge couldn’t help but smile as he sat on the bed. He stared at the envelope before putting it on the bedside cabinet and put out the lamp.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bentham carefully rolled the car forward into the bay and applied the handbrake. “I hate parking in multi-storeys. The bays are so small.”

  “Should drive something smaller and ostentatious than Jaguar, then.”

  “I treated myself to a little divorce present.”

  Norman undid his seatbelt. “A divorce present is usually a crate of ale and prostitute. Most men lose money in a divorce, how did you afford a Jag?”

  “I might look stupid, but I choose my friends wisely.”

  “Huh?”

  “You met my mate Dean at my fortieth.”

  “Oh yeah, him.” Norman scoffed, “What a boring twat.”

  “Yeah, he is about as interesting as a physics teacher.”

  “Why the fuck did you invite him?”

  “He’s an accountant.” Bentham smiled. “My money is safer than the Pope’s virginity.”