CHAPTER 69: THE GIRL WHO CAME BACK - CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Haswell passes me another coffee. “Charlotte, I’m sorry that you have had such an uncomfortable

morning. My only concern in…. interrogating you… for so long, was that we are discussing the

character of a man that I am about to sign up as a director of my company. Once I was satisfied that

your relationship with James is truly consensual, I ceased to be concerned about that aspect of the

matter.”

I shift uneasily, nodding, but staring at the floor.

He sits back, sipping his coffee, before placing the cup and saucer carefully down on the table. “Let me

reassure you. Based on what I now know, your ‘confession’ will have no repercussions for either

yourself or James here, for our working relationship.”

I take a deep breath. “Thank you.” My voice is small.

“I can see you are still uncomfortable. Perhaps as to the nature of your relationship with James.… your

Master?”

My eyes flash up to meet his, but he is smiling.

“Perhaps it would make you feel easier to know that I have a similar relationship with my wife?”

I blink. “Really?”

“Really. As I say, arrangements between beautiful women and powerful men are not that uncommon.

And, although I barely know you, it is clear to me already, that you face your problems and you deal

with them. I understand how hard you must have found it, to come to me today. And very few women

would have had the nerve to take your um, chosen route, to raising your college funds. Regardless of

what you might fear, I think well of you Charlotte.”

Then he waves us both out. “I have some phone calls to make.”

*****

Francis buzzes me. “Charlotte, could you come to the office, please. Mr Haswell wants to see you.”

I arrive to find Haswell, my Master and Ned Jansen seated around a table. Jansen looks smug. My

Master’s expression is masked, Haswell’s bland.

“And here’s our gutter rat,” smirks Jansen.

“Better gutter rat than sewer rat,” I snap back.

“Charlotte, sit down,” says Haswell, indicating a seat next to my Master.

I move to the seat, but as I squeeze by Jansen, his hand slides up to grope my ass.

I whirl, hand raised, but my wrist is seized by my Master.

“Charlotte, sit.”

I hesitate, resisting, fighting him.

“This is not a request. Sit,” he says, pointing at the chair.

I submit to my Master, seating myself, but poised for trouble.

“So, Mr Jansen,” starts Haswell, “What is the nature of your complaint?”

“I’m being asked to work with people unfit to be in their posts,” says Jansen.

“Ms Conners and Mr Alexanders?”

“Yes.”

“By what reason?”

“You’ve seen the brochure and the film. You know what reason.”

“Ah yes, the brochure and the film, both sent to me in a plain, unmarked brown envelope. The only

reason I know who sent them was that Ms Conners herself alerted me to it, and of course, you have

now confirmed it.”

Jensen says nothing, but his face colours up.

“Might I also enquire Mr Jansen, how you came to be in possession of said brochure and video

content? It is not the kind of material that is normally left casually lying around.”

Jansen doesn’t speak, clearly now realising that I, and my Master, are not the ones on trial.

Haswell continues. “The material, whilst undoubtedly of…. unusual.… content, can certainly be argued

to be of concern only to the parties involved. There is no injured party or victim involved here. It is a

private matter, between them. However….” Haswell, leans back, flipping open a file, “…. however, I

would like to query you about one Jasmine Hardacre, who also, um…. attended, this auction.

Approximately ten days after the date of the auction, she was admitted to hospital with multiple

contusions, lash marks covering most of her body, three broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, and….

cigarette burns... According to the auction house, her ‘purchaser’ was one ‘Edward Jansen’.”

I stare at Haswell, my stomach churning. He stares back at me, impassively, then looks away, speaking

to Jansen again. I don’t hear his words.

Oh, God. He bid for me…

The realisation of what might have happened, had it not been my Master who won the bidding, hits me.

Seated next to me, he watches me out of the corner of his eyes but, with Jansen there, is not going to

speak. Under the table, his foot presses on mine, and he lowers his eyelids at me, in the smallest of

comfort signals.

My mind tunes back to what is being said. Haswell is speaking.

“So, Mr Jansen, you will find that the police are taking a great interest in you and…”

“She’s a whore. She sold herself. Agreed to anything. She signed a contract. Just like this one here…”

“Be that as it may, contracts come under civil law. Assault and grievous bodily harm come under

criminal law…” His phone rings. “… Excuse me. I need to take this call…. Yes?” He listens carefully.

“Yes, he’s here. Yes? Thank you.”

He continues. “As I was saying Mr Jansen, you will find that the police are in fact very interested in you.

As we speak, they are searching your premises and….” The door opens. A police officer enters. “…. Ah

yes. This is Mr Jansen. I believe you would like to interview him.”

The spluttering, protesting Jansen is led out in handcuffs. My Master is watching me carefully. Haswell

is watching us both.

“Excuse me.” I stand, heading for the door. I don’t make it. My stomach heaves and, managing to grab

a waste bin at the last moment, I throw up into it, choking and coughing.

Eyes streaming, I stand, trying to apologise. But Haswell offers me water, which I gulp down; washing

away the foul taste in my mouth. My Master holds me tight, rocking me back and forth in his arms until I

calm down.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Really.” I try to break free, conscious that Haswell is watching all this. My Master

looks doubtful but releases me. Haswell sits at his desk, quite calmly, waiting.

After a moment, he says, “I did think your reaction might be something like that, Charlotte, when you

learned what happened to the girl. Jansen bid on you, yes?”

I nod.

“You might bear that in mind if you ever consider any similar…. enterprises…”

“Um, that’s more or less why I’m here. To avoid similar enterprises.”

He snorts in laughter. “Nonetheless, your interests aside, Mr Jansen is now in the hands of the police.

While we were speaking, his premises have been searched and all computers, hard drives, and other

storage media have been removed as evidence. I believe his phone will also be confiscated. Hopefully,

that should avoid the risk of further copies of the documents and video coming to light.” This material belongs to .

He pulls the envelope from a desk drawer, fishes the data drive from his pocket and places it on top of

the envelope, then pushes both towards me.

“In my discussions with the Commissioner of Police, your name did not arise. I suggest you destroy

these.”

“But the police?”

“They are interested in Jasmine Hardacre, who, I might mention, seems to have disappeared.”

It could have been me….

Then I realise I have spoken the words aloud.

“Yes, it could, Charlotte. I suggest you think very carefully about your future conduct.”

I have nothing to say to this, and so, nodding, remain silent.

Haswell smiles. “I would like to ask you one more question Charlotte. And this is not in a spirit of

salacious interest. I simply do not wish to commit any faux pas when your name comes up in

conversation. James is your Master, but Michael is…?

“…. my fiancé.”

He pauses, visibly collecting his thoughts, then nods.