Frankie Fey - 38. Clarence, Violet & Inesh

Clarence, Violet and Inesh were wallowing in the shallows, staring at Frankie as he waded the last few metres.

‘Inesh, this is Frankie, he’s joining us for lunch,’ Violet announced as if she’d just won the lottery.

Inesh stood and the two men shook hands. Inesh’s grip was hard and lean, like his body. His face expressionless. ‘How do you do,’ he said with magisterial pomposity.

Frankie straightened perceptibly and with matching superciliousness replied, ‘How do you do.’

Two seconds later their frozen faces cracked and both burst out laughing.

‘You understood me.’ Inesh was delighted.

‘What did he understand?’ Violet sounded put out.

‘That I was using one of the most absurd greetings in any language.’

‘It’s not absurd,’ Violet snapped petulantly. ‘It is a very polite greeting. What's wrong with it?’

‘Surely it’s absurd to respond to the question, How do you do, with the identical question, How do you do?’

‘It’s just the way it is.’

‘You're right and I apologise, Violet. It was rude of me to laugh at your language’s polite absurdity.’ Still chuckling, Inesh waded out of the water towards the boat where he turned and watched Frankie approach, blocking access to the satchel. They stood facing each other, one smiling, the other wondering what the smile meant and worrying that he was about to be criticised for his nudity.

‘I'm so pleased you two are getting on so well,’ Clarence said jovially, pulling on loose trousers and a shirt. ‘It’s always a risk inviting people who don’t know each other to a meal.’

‘Yes. Well, as you two seem to understand each other so well,’ Violet said with a slightly disapproving sniff, ‘we’ll get on home to prepare luncheon. Inesh will show you where we live, Frankie. Give us at least twenty minutes?’ She pulled a capacious floral shift over her swimming costume and with no further communication, the two Englishers were gone.

Inesh bared pure white teeth in another smile Frankie wasn’t sure how to interpret. He looked to be in his thirties. Short hair, narrow - almost wolfish face, full lips and a strong nose. Lean and wiry with legs that had done a lot of walking.

‘When you came out of the water you looked like Shiva emerging from the waves,’ Inesh said reverentially. ‘Powerful and at ease with yourself and the world, water dripping from your handsome body, wet hair clinging to neck and shoulders.’

Frankie pretended to believe the outrageous flattery and with wide eyes gasped, ‘Really Inesh? I looked like Shiva? Wow! He’s my all time favourite God.’

Inesh played along. ‘Perhaps you are one of his incarnations!’

‘Gosh! Is that possible?’

‘Anything’s possible. Why do you like him?’

‘Because despite being the original, greatest and most powerful, he treats us mortals with respect, and as long as we're respectful and sincere, all we have to do is ask and he will do his best to assist. Not like the Jewish god who insists his followers debase themselves or he’ll kill them. Also, Shiva’s handsome, clever, wise and strong.’

‘You’ve done your research.’ Inesh stood aside to let Frankie open his satchel and put on his shorts. ‘As you like Shiva you must be my guest at the Shiva festival next month.’

‘I’d love to, but I'm leaving India tomorrow.’

Inesh stepped back as if in horror. ‘No! I forbid it. Shiva would never have arranged our meeting if you were going to immediately disappear.’ He took Frankie’s hand and gazed into his eyes.

Frankie giggled.

‘I see changes in your future,’ he intoned softly. ‘When the gods are involved, Frankie, nothing is as it seems.’

‘Do you really believe in the gods?’ Frankie asked.

Inesh chuckled. ‘Never ask an Indian that question.’ He paused as if in thought. ‘What do I believe? I'm awed by two and a half thousand years of ancient wisdom during which the Jains insisted on complete nudity as part of their vow to give up all worldly goods. I'm impressed that over a thousand years ago the Sakas made tens of thousands of explicit human and animal sculptures on the walls of the city of Khajuraho, in which Kings and commoners dance happily in joyous sexual union, completely naked except for beads, bangles, and decoration. I’m proud that the beauty of the body was exalted and paraded even by my forebears. And, since sexual activity is an activity of the body — that too has been exalted. Other Indian temples such as Konarak and Ellora also display highly realistic erotic naked sculptures, to show that nudity and sex are an essential part of the living experience of the community, part of the social, educational, and religious life. And your Lord Shiva is often dressed in a scanty loincloth, because nudity is associated with honesty and purity. That’s what I believe in; the beauty and sanctity of sex between perfect, naked bodies.’

‘There aren't too many of those around today; just about the only men I've seen in Kerala who aren't fat are the fishermen and you. The Sakas sound like my type of people.’

‘Am I your type of person?’

‘I don’t know you well enough.’ Frankie adjusted his shorts. ‘I wish we wore lungis at home, they look so much more comfortable in hot weather than trousers.’

‘I seldom wear anything else. No shirt, no underpants, just one of these and leather thongs on my feet. It makes life easier because people take me for a spiritual man and give me precedence.’ He laughed. ‘Do you know it’s considered bad manners by devout people for a man to enter a temple wearing more than I'm wearing now?’

‘Yes, someone told me about that yesterday. It makes them healthy. But where I come from being overweight is not a sign of health.’

It’s healthier because the fatter you are, the more area of skin you have to absorb cosmic rays.

Frankie laughed. ‘That does it, where can I buy a lungi?

‘I’ve a spare in my car you can have. Wear it to lunch and give Violet and Clarence a thrill.’

Inesh drove a Tata 4WD with a few dents and yellowy brown paint that needed a polish. Inside was neatly organised. All seats except the front two had been removed and replaced by what looked like camping equipment. Inesh opened a leather holdall and handed Frankie a clean pale blue lungi that he wrapped around his waist before removing his shorts. Inesh showed him how to twist the front so it didn’t loosen, then stood back to admire his handiwork.

‘You were born to wear one,’ he said. ‘Ok, let’s be off.’

‘Except I arrived on a bicycle, so I’ll follow you.’

‘No you wont, I tied your lungi too short for a bicycle, you’d get run in. where is it?’

Frankie wheeled it over and helped hoist it onto the roof rack and secure it. Two minutes later after driving about a kilometre past pleasant bungalows surrounded by palms and other luxuriant growth, but not many flowers, they parked in the driveway of Violet and Clarence’s neat and characterless little bungalow, rendered attractive by dense plantings of tropical flowering shrubs.

‘We’re a few minutes early,’ Inesh said, cutting the engine. ‘Violet and Clarence are pleasant but have a bit of history you ought to know. Violet was teaching English to my sixteen-year-old nephew and paid him to fuck her. He didn’t mind as he was always short of money, and when he began a similar service to Clarence he was raking in the rupees. But his parents discovered his secret and threatened to go to the police. My nephew asked me to intervene because it had been his idea in the first place, and he liked both Violet and Clarence and didn’t want them to get hurt. So I convinced the parents no harm had been done, pointed out that if it was mentioned in court that their son had been willingly prostituting himself it would do their reputations no good, and so it all blew over. Since then, I try to see them once a month to make sure they're not letting their sexual urges get them into trouble. I imagine they are hoping for a bit of fun with you, so now you're prepared.

‘I'm not fucking two old retirees!’

‘Of course not! But it'd be a joke to thrill them with more of what they’ve already got you to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Whose idea was it for you to swim naked?’

‘Theirs.

‘Right. But then I captured your attention and they left in a bit of a huff.’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

Inesh grinned as if he knew more than he was letting on, took his mobile phone from the glove box and climbed out of the Tata. ‘I’ll lock the vehicle, but take your satchel, nothing’s totally safe in India.’

‘Not only India.’ Frankie added, following Inesh round the back to a neat lawn backed by what looked like Tarzan’s jungle and surrounded by a high hedge providing privacy. A table had been set up in the shade of a pergola, where their hosts were sitting staring vacantly into space.

They leaped up when their guests arrived. Clarence served cool fruit drinks, Violet took Frankie’s satchel inside for safe keeping and exclaimed at how perfectly godlike he looked in his lungi. ‘But Inesh, yours is still wet. It must be uncomfortable. Take it off and I’ll hang it on the line.’

‘It is rubbing a bit. If you're sure you don’t mind?’

‘Violet held out her hand and hung the cloth on the line while Inesh placed his phone on the table. Frankie wasn’t shocked so much as surprised. Inesh had given no indication of… but then he’d said he admired all the sexy carvings and sculptures. But it made him nervous. With his hairy bum and thick penis, Inesh was the real life satyr that Frankie had pretended to be on stage with Prudence. Compare to him Frankie had looked like an innocent faun.

‘What about you, Frankie?’ Clarence asked. ‘There’s a runny sauce with the meal; it would be dreadful if it spilled on your new garment.’

Frankie did not want to give his hosts a thrill. He did not want to be naked in the same space as Inesh. He suddenly didn’t want to be there. ‘Well, it would be a pity, but don’t you…?’

Clarence laughed boyishly, reached out and pulled the loosely tied lungi off. ‘Of course we don’t.’

Annoyed, but unwilling to risk a confrontation with people he was beginning to realise were not what they pretended. He shrugged and smiled and wandered with them around the garden looking at flowers and plants that had been damaged by monkeys and a passing elephant. Gradually, Frankie’s nervousness dissipated. They were acting so naturally that by the time they were sitting at table he felt relaxed and a little foolish for worrying. Inesh was clearly an educated gentleman, and the two oldies… well; Frankie was stronger than both of them.

The meal was undercooked and inedible. The main topic of conversation was Frankie and his experiences, of which he gave a very edited account, making it sound a bit dull.

‘And what do your parents think of their son going off on his own? I suppose you write long screeds about all the temples and sights?’

Frankie shook his head – suddenly cautious. ‘No, my whole purpose in going away was to see if I could take care of myself.’ He stopped as his heart leaped into his throat. He’d already told these people down at the beach that no one knew where he was. ‘At least that was until yesterday,’ he added. ‘I had to email them I was here so they'd meet me at the airport in a couple of days.’ Even to his own ears it didn’t sound convincing, but his audience seemed to accept it so he began to relax. But then he realised he had no idea who these people were. Yet he was naked in their back garden and they'd taken his satchel away with all his documents and clothes! And he didn’t know where! He began to panic and sweat. But they looked so friendly. He had to trust someone… didn’t he?

‘No!’ said a not so tiny voice in his head. ‘You don’t!’

‘Is there an English Club?’ Frankie asked brightly to change the subject. ‘I've read a couple of Somerset Maugham stories so I picture hot nights and pink gins and storm clouds brewing and violent tempests that increase the humidity but don’t lower the temperature.’

‘There is a club exactly like that, but its not for us,’ Clarence sniffed in disdain. ‘We’re teetotal and not club people. With the Internet we’re not isolated, and the locals are quite friendly enough. We sometimes have an English couple from down the road for dinner and a game of bridge, and vice versa. And we watch some Hindu festivals. We tried going to the Club, but it was, quite frankly, horrid. We’re not snobs, but it’s full of the sort of common English people with whom we’d never associate back home, sitting around, drinking too much, complaining about the heat, the quality of the servants, having to bribe to get anything, the lack of the sort of food they prefer… you name it, they moan and complain, are interested in nothing, and do less.’

‘Poor things,’ Frankie said with feeling. ‘They’re bored. How horrible for them. I've never been bored, but I've read it leads to all sorts of bad things. Why do they live here?’

‘For the same reason we do. But they can’t make themselves accept that just because India is different doesn't mean it is inferior. In fact, in many ways it is superior to Europe.’

‘It’s certainly better than Australia in some ways,’ Frankie agreed.

‘So, Frankie, you're leaving tomorrow; have you seen everything you wanted to?’ Inesh asked.

‘Everything except Kushti wrestling. I understand that after three thousand years it’s being phased out in favour of Olympic wrestling. I reckon that's ridiculous. I’d hoped to see a match, but it’s not important. Everything else has been just about perfect.’

‘So perfect you're leaving tomorrow,’ Inesh said accusingly.

‘All good things must come to an end.’

‘What nonsense. Show me your plane ticket.’

Violet took Frankie inside to a cupboard, opened it, handed Frankie his satchel and watched as he extracted his ticket.

‘What a brilliant secret pocket,’ she exclaimed. Did you sew it in yourself?’

‘Yes,’ Frankie grunted, reluctantly returning his satchel to the cupboard. As they walked back outside, he felt her hand caress his buttocks. A shudder ran up his spine. This was not a good place to be. But how to get away?

After scanning the ticket Inesh grinned. ‘This is an open, transferrable ticket, and as long as you cancel a booking twenty-four hours in advance, there’s no penalty. When is the flight?’

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘Then let’s cancel it and you can come with me to visit some national parks in the Western Ghats.’

‘Don’t you have to work?’

‘That is my work. I’m a fixer.’

‘He’s more than that,’ Clarence interjected. ‘Inesh is a brilliant engineer with responsibility for the maintenance of several visitor facilities, tracks and safety in… how many parks, Inesh?’

‘Six.’

‘So that's why your van is full of camping gear.’

‘Yes. Although I only use it if there’s no bed available in a guesthouse. I check up on about a dozen workers at each visitor centre. You’ll have a great time up in the mountains; fresh air, away from the maddening crowds.’

Frankie nodded, but looked unconvinced.

‘And I've just remembered,’ Inesh announced casually. ‘Deepak and Sanjay in Periyar used to be in a Kushti group in Menai that disbanded. I’m certain they'd put on a fight for you. You could even have a bout with them.’

‘And get myself crippled.’

‘So, you’ll come?’ Inesh’s face was the picture of innocence.

Frankie had no intention of going anywhere with Inesh, but was careful not to reveal his intentions. ‘Tell you what; you and I will wrestle now, on the lawn. Whoever is in the strongest position after two minutes—Clarence you keep the time—will decide.’ As Frankie was heavier, taller and more powerful in chest, arms and shoulders, he wasn’t worried about the outcome. He reckoned he’d learned plenty from his fight with Massimo.

‘And you swear to abide by the winners decision?’

The first flicker of doubt tickled at Frankie’s chest. ‘Of course. Do you?’

‘I swear it.’

Violet and Clarence took their chairs over onto the lawn and sat opposite each other about three metres apart. Frankie and Inesh stood between them, hands on each other’s shoulders.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Inesh whispered.

‘Ditto to you.’ Frankie replied.

‘Two minutes starting… now!’ Clarence called.

Inesh was from the ancient Greek school of wrestling—no holds barred, and before Frankie could move, a bony fist slammed with immense force into the soft spot just below his ribs, winding him.

Heart pounding, diaphragm in spasm, Frankie crumpled. In vain did he thrust his hands into his stomach to try and calm the rapidly vibrating muscle so he could draw breath. He was turning blue, quivering and gasping when Inesh threw him onto his back and repeatedly forced his knees deep into his belly, slamming the diaphragm back into normal mode until Frankie lay gasping like a freshly landed fish, dragging in deep breaths of warm air, head pounding. He looked up to see Violet on the front of her seat, gazing in morbid delight.

‘Don’t kill him too quickly,’ she tittered.

‘I won’t,’ Inesh muttered, pushing Frankie’s feet up and over his shoulders to be grabbed by Clarence. When Frankie tried to use his arms, Inesh dragged the hands towards him and knelt on them while shoving a thick finger into his victim’s anus.

Frankie’s scream of pain triggered laughter.

‘He’s nice and tight, Clarence. I’m glad I'm going first. Pass us some of that mayonnaise, Violet, that’ll loosen him up.’

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Violet poured it over Frankie’s groin and remained to watch Inesh withdraw his finger and replace it with…

Inesh’s phone rang.

Violet passed it to him. He listened, nodded, and rattled something off in very angry sounding Hindi before snapping the phone closed. He glared at his hosts. ‘There’s an emergency. I have to go. Violet, get a knife and keep him here till I get back.’

‘How long will you be?’ Violet stuttered. ‘We can’t…’

‘You can! Only a few minutes.’

Violet returned and jabbed the knife into Frankie’s ribs, then Inesh grabbed both his and Frankie’s lungis from the line and took off.

As the sound of the vehicle’s engine faded Frankie remembered his bicycle. He lay still, pretending he’d fainted. Violet was haranguing Clarence who muttered something angrily. Frankie blanked his mind and reduced his problems to two; get his satchel and escape. After that he’d think again. He shifted and Violet’s knife jabbed again. Frankie moaned but remained unconscious.

‘He’s not that horrible colour any more,’ Violet whispered. ‘So he isn't going to die.’

‘Unless there's internal bleeding.’

‘Inesh didn’t have time to fuck him.’

‘No. Nor did I. Such a pity.’

‘We shouldn’t have called Inesh. The kid was a soft touch; we could have had him all to ourselves; he seemed to like us.’

‘Too late now, you did call him.’

‘We’d better tie him up.’ Violet passed the knife to Clarence and shuffled away.

Taking his chance Frankie had barely twitched when a sharp pain in his ribs stopped him.

‘If you move, this will slide straight through to your heart,’ Clarence said coldly. ‘I know what I'm doing and it wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘What're you going to do with me?’

‘Tie you up until Inesh gets back.’

‘And then what happens?’

‘Depends on what he needs. Probably brothel till you're worn out, then spare parts for millionaires with dodgy hearts and kidneys. You're too pretty to waste as slave labour in the mines.’ He paused thoughtfully and stroked Frankie’s flanks. ‘You’ve beautiful thick skin, so grafts are a possibility.’

‘What do you mean?’ Frankie couldn’t keep the terror from his voice and Clarence smiled.

‘It’s the latest money-spinner thanks to new drugs that prevent rejection. Nepalese girls’ skins have been used for a while to repair deep skin burns or after skin cancer removal, operation scars or simply old age, and now it turns out young men are even better. If the doctors are careful and don’t take enough skin to kill the donor, sometimes they can last for years.’

‘What do you get out of it?’

‘Finder’s fee. For you at least two hundred thousand.’

‘Rupees?’

‘Euros.’

Frankie’s imagination worked overtime and he vomited.

‘That was a waste of my cooking,’ Violet snarled as she returned to expertly tie his ankles together. ‘I was a five-star Girl guide,’ she announced proudly. ‘You’ll not get out of that.’ She stood and fiddled with another length of strong, thin hempen rope, wondering how best to go about it. ‘Prod him to sit up so I can tie his arms behind his back,’ she ordered.

Frankie sat without prodding and, with the knife probing ever deeper, allowed Violet to place his hands behind his back, but before she could do more he screamed, ‘My eyes! My eyes! They're bursting out. Help! Help! My eyes! Do something! Arghhhhhhhhhh.’ The scream, which should have had the entire suburb investigating, triggered an involuntary reflex in both Violet and Clarence who leaned forward to look. With an almighty lunge Frankie brought his hands up and slammed their heads together. The crack was audible and they slumped.

Violet remained still. Clarence groaned and moved groggily so Frankie smashed his fist into the side of his head. Then before removing the rope around his feet he used the one intended for his own arms to tie their necks tightly together and their hands behind their backs. Then he untied himself and lashed their ankles together, pulling the end of the rope up and through the rope around their necks. If they moved they’d strangle themselves. While checking the neck ropes weren't so tight they'd interfere with breathing, he realised Violet had no pulse. He hadn't intended to kill her, so his conscience was clear, but he was glad she would never hurt anyone again. He was angry enough to hope Clarence remained aware long enough to enjoy his situation.

Then he raced inside. His satchel and documents were still there. No time to dress. He took the knife and checked the clock on the sideboard. Four o'clock. It’d be light for another couple of hours. The decision on which way to go was forced by Inesh, whose vehicle pulled noisily into the driveway. Frankie raced out the back door and threw himself into the dense palms and bushes at the rear of the property, less than ten metres from the two bodies as Inesh rounded the corner of the house. For a brief second he stood and gaped, then kneeled and checked if they were alive, giving Frankie time to burrow into leaf litter.

‘Help me,’ Clarence begged, but Inesh ignored him, standing and staring intently around the garden. Accepting that Frankie had scarpered, he grunted and went into the house. From the noise of opening and closing doors it was clear he was looking for something. After several minutes in which a crawling creature had decided Frankie was a tasty morsel, he returned with a briefcase, a computer, a filing cabinet, both his hosts’ phones and a lady’s handbag. While he was placing them in his vehicle, Frankie squashed his attacker and slid even further into the moist, muck in case Inesh came prowling.

Instead, he returned and stared down at his two procurers, ignoring Clarence’s increasingly anguished cries for help. Suddenly decisive, he slammed his fist into the side of Clarence’s head to shut him up then untied both of them, carefully wound up the ropes and hung them on a hook beside the back door. After dragging Clarence inside he returned for Violet, then remained inside for several minutes, closing all windows before exiting, closing the door and driving rapidly away.

Scarcely believing his luck, Frankie slid on his belly through mushy ground to a wire-mesh fence that marked the boundary. Beyond it was a small stream and beyond that another similar fence marking the neighbours property. After a careful look back to make sure no one was watching for him, he was halfway over when a gigantic explosion threw him back on the ground. He stared at a giant fireball that had blown off the sliding doors to the patio and seemed determined to consume the rest of the house.