The Collector

 Well, the next day she brought up the business about having a bath and fresh air again. I didn't know what to do; I went up to the bathroom to think about it without promising anything. The bathroom window was over the porch round the cellar door. Out the back, which was safer. In the end I got up some wood and boarded across the frame, three-inch screws, so she couldn't signal with the light or climb out. Not that there was anyone likely to be out the back late at night.

 That took care of the bathroom.

 What I did next was I pretended she was with me and walked up from below to see where the danger spots would be. The downstairs rooms had wooden inside shutters, it was easy to draw them across and lock them (later I got padlocks) so she couldn't attract attention through a window and no snoopers could be looking in and seeing things. In the kitchen I made sure all knives etcetera were well out" of harm's way. I thought of everything she could do to try and escape and in the end I felt it was safe.

 Well, after supper she was on to me again about the bath and I let her begin to go sulky again and then I said, all right, I will take the risk, but if you break your promise, you stay here.

 "I never break promises."

 Will you give me your parole of honour?

 "I give you my word of honour that I shall not try to escape."

 Or signal.

 "Or signal."

 I'm going to tie you up.

 "But that's insulting."

 I wouldn't blame you if you broke your word, I said.

 "But I . . ." she didn't finish, she just shrugged and turned and held her hands behind her. I had a scarf ready to take the pressure of the cord, I did it real tight but not so as to hurt, then I was going to gag her, but first she had me collect up the wash-things she needed and (I was very glad to see) she had chosen some of the clothes I had bought.

 I carried her things and went first, up the steps in the outer cellar and she waited till I unlocked the door and came up when I ordered, having first listened to make sure no one was about.

 It was very dark of course, but clear, you could see some stars. I took her arm tight and let her stand there for five minutes. I could hear her breathing deep. It was very romantic, her head came just up to my shoulder.

 You can hear it's a long way from anywhere, I said.

 When the time was up (I had to pull her) we went in through the kitchen and dining-room and into the hall and up the stairs to the bathroom.

 There's no lock on the door, I said, you can't shut it even, I've nailed a block in, but I shall respect your every privacy providing you keep your word. I shall be here.

 I had a chair on the landing outside.

 I am now going to take your hand-cords off if you give me your word you will keep the gag on. Nod your head.

 Well, she did, so I untied her hands. She rubbed them a bit, just to get at me, I suppose, then went in the bathroom.

 All went off without trouble, I heard her have her bath, splashing etcetera, quite natural, but I got a shock when she came out. She hadn't got the gag on. That was one shock. The other was the way she was changed with the new clothes and her hair washed, it hung all wet and loose on her shoulders. It seemed to make her softer, even younger; not that she was ever hard or ugly. I must have looked stupid, looking angry because of the gag, and then not being able to be it because she looked so lovely.

 She spoke very quick.

 "Look, it began to hurt horribly. I've given you my word. I give it to you again. You can put this back on if you like -- here. But I would have screamed by now if I'd wanted to."

 She handed me the gag and there was something in her look, I couldn't put it on again. I said, the hands will do. She had on her green tunic, but with one of the shirts I bought and I guessed she had on the new underclothes underneath.

 I did up her hands behind her back.

 I'm sorry I'm so suspicious, I said. It's just that you're all I've got that makes life worth living. It was the wrong moment to say a thing like that, I know, but having her standing there like that, it was too much.

 I said, if you went, I think I'd do myself in.

 "You need a doctor."

 I just made a noise.

 "I'd like to help you."

 You think I'm mad because of what I've done. I'm not mad. It's just, well, I've got no one else. There's never been anyone but you I've ever wanted to know.

 "That's the worst kind of illness," she said. She turned round then, all this was while I was tying. She looked down. "I feel sorry for you."

 Then she changed, she said, "What about washing? I've washed some things. Can I hang them out? Or is there a laundry?"

 I said, I'll dry them in the kitchen. You can't send anything to the laundry.

 "What now?"

 And she looked round. There was something mischievous about her sometimes, you could see she was looking for trouble, in a nice way. Teasing like.

 "Aren't you going to show me your house?"

 She had a real smile on, the first I ever saw; I couldn't do anything but smile back.

 It's late, I said.

 "How old is it?" She spoke as if she didn't hear me.