Harvest Saturday

British English spelling and grammar.

***

Harvest Saturday

It was three in the morning that Saturday, as an unmarked white van rolled down the country lane. As the farmhouse came into view the van's lights went out. It coasted down the slope and slid to a stop in front of a barn near the house. Without saying a word, three men got out, quietly opened the barn door, and pushed the van in. There was nothing in there except a few tools. This was a residence; not a working farm. The men waited. No need to break into the house; the occupants would open up of their own accord. And that happened just before seven.

***

Back in the 70s there were no mobile phones, no wall-to-wall CCTV, and banks closed at the weekend. Sedgeton was a prosperous market town on the Somerset levels. But its branch of Barclays bank already had an ATM and a night depository; largely because of Harvest Saturday.

The origins of the event were lost in the mists of time, but by 1971, it was an official event. Generally accepted wisdom was that it had originally only sold the season's local produce, but over the years it had expanded and now sold everything; and sold it cheap. It was always held on the first Saturday in October.

Sedgeton's market square, actually a large rectangle, started to fill with stalls from daybreak. Lorries and vans arrived, waiting patiently for each other while goods were unloaded and stalls set up. A nearby field, walking distance to the square, accommodated the traders' vehicles. And in recent years, that had expanded to include the cars of the bargain-hunting customers. Many of them travelled a long way. The harvest market officially opened at ten, though the food stalls were serving breakfast around nine. Their first customers were the other traders.

There would not be many police officers on duty, but those that were kept a high profile. It was a friendly affair but did attract a few pickpockets. The town's busiest day of the year, it had always been a cash market. Especially after the field space was expanded to accommodate a travelling funfair. Kids would pester to go, and put up with parents' market shopping for a turn on the Big Wheel and Waltzers.

At ten, the bank would open; unusual on a Saturday. Early business would be stallholders stocking up with change. The bulk from then on would be locals and visitors, withdrawing cash to spend at the market and fair. The manager and three staff served from opening time to five pm closing. Two went home at five, but the manager and senior assistant locked up, and stayed on. They would go for dinner, manager's treat, exiting at the rear of the building into a quiet courtyard. Sometimes they would have a quick tour of the stalls, then head back to the bank. The market itself wound down late afternoon. Everything except the funfair had to be closed by sunset, around six thirty.

Then there was a steady stream of traders, dropping the day's takings into the bank night safes. The pair's final task was to clear out the night depositories, and put the cash in the strongroom. It would self-lock at seven pm, and unlock at ten on the following Monday morning. In a good year, there could be nearly half a million pounds in there, enough in these parts for twenty new houses. The last two staff would leave at seven thirty, and Securicor would collect the cash on Monday. Anything left in the night depositories would be safe enough.

***

A middle-aged man wearing jogging clothes and expensive trainers emerged from the farmhouse. He looked towards the horizon and stretched. A slight paunch pushed against his sweater. He patted it once and started to run, passing the barn without a glance, following a barely visible track through the grass. Once he reached the end of the field, he crested a ridge and disappeared. The waiting men slipped out of the barn and went up to the house.

Mabel was in the kitchen, removing Arthur's two slices from the toaster. He preferred them cold and crispy. The butter was out of the fridge, warming up, next to the coffee machine. As she reached up to the cupboard for the raspberry jam, a hand grabbed her wrist and another clamped over her mouth to prevent any shouting. Her head was pulled back onto her assailant's shoulder, and he spoke threateningly into her ear.

"Is your daughter the only other person in the house? Just nod or shake your head."

She nodded. Her wrist was released and one breast squeezed hard.

"Would you like us to go and do this to her?"

She shook her head.

"Then when I remove my hand, you will remain silent."

Another nod.

"OK, I'm letting you go. Do not start asking stupid questions like 'Who are you?' and 'What are you doing?' Silent means silent."

He let her go and she turned to face him.

There were two more men behind him. One was dressed similarly to the first: nondescript jeans and sweater. The third was incongruously dressed in a smart suit and shiny shoes.

"Is your daughter Patty still in bed?"

"Yes."

She was worried that they knew her name.

"What are your plans for today Mabel?"

"N-nothing much. We'll look round the market later; Patty likes the fair."

"When will your husband be back?!

"About seven fortyfive."

"Correct."

The guy in the suit started hunting out eggs and bacon. The other two escorted Mabel to Patty's bedroom. She was woken, also threatened to keep quiet, and made to get up. She was wearing pink pyjamas just like her mother's. Once she was in her slippers and a bath robe, they all went downstairs. There, they were given orders and made to repeat them. Once they understood, young Patty sat at the breakfast bar with a cup of tea. Mabel made more coffee, and cooked a fried breakfast for everyone. Four of them were eating it when Arthur came puffing into the kitchen.

The suited man, who had been watching his approach, grabbed him as he entered. He then had the situation explained to him, much as his wife and daughter had. But he clearly didn't understand the bit about keeping quiet.

"You can't ..."

The guy in the suit slapped his face, and the other two approached Mabel. One grabbed her shoulders from behind and swivelled her round facing her husband. The other pulled off her slippers.

"I said silence. Now your wife has bare feet."

"You'll never ..."

He got another slap and Mabel's pyjama top was undone. Her nipples peeped out through the opening

"Seems we have a learning difficulty here. Now she's nearly lost her pj jacket as well."

"Dad!" Patty jumped off her stool and rushed to him. "Please stop speaking!"

He finally got it and Mabel glared daggers at him.

They went over the instructions again; making sure the family understood how it would go down.

After they'd had breakfast more questions were asked. Who was likely to phone or visit? And what the females should do and say if they did. Then the suited guy got into Arthur's BMW with him, and they drove off. Arthur was concerned - not least the fact that none of them were hiding their faces.

Meanwhile, the two men in jeans took the womenfolk upstairs. They paid scant attention to Patty's or the main bedroom, but did a thorough search of the guest room. It was empty and the wardrobes and drawers contained nothing.

"Mabel," said one, "strip all the bedding off and put it in one of the other rooms."

She did, and one guy helped her and took her back down.

The third man stood there looking at the bare mattress.

"Patty," he said, "I'm going to tell you to do something now. Then I'll leave you alone till lunchtime. Kick up a fuss and there'll be recriminations. You saw what happened to your father and mother in the kitchen; all because they failed to see we are serious."

"OK."

"Take off your clothes."

Patty was a late bloomer.. Eighteen years old but barely fully developed. She didn't argue, but did hesitate. She thought leaving her here was now making sense, as did removing all the bedding. This room was on the front of the house, directly above the living room. If there was someone down there, she couldn't escape unnoticed. Not many females would climb out of a window, naked, and run half a mile to the main road; least of all a shy eighteen year old. She took a deep breath and took off everything. Then she stood in front of him, blushing, and held out her folded clothes. She made no attempt to hide herself, and resisted the temptation to make a sarcastic remark.

The man did not affect nonchalance. He stared at her breasts, her puffy nipples, her dusting of pubic hair. He held her shoulders and pushed her gently up against the wall. Then he ran his hands over her breasts. One continued to her belly to her private place. She held her breath as his fngers entered her, and closed her eyes. He took his hands away and stood back.

"Very pretty." he said.

Then took her clothes and left.

By ten fortyfive, there had only been one phonecall. The mother of a classmate of Patty's who wanted to know if she and Mabel were going to the market. The reply was no. They both had a summer cold and would stay home this year. And, no, they didn't need anything thank you. The guys thought Mabel had done a good job.

***

Arthur arrived early and instead of entering the bank from the front, he went in through the rear courtyar. He immediately unlocked the front door and five minutes later the first of his staff arrived. When everyone was in, the introductions were made.

"This is Mr Goldsmith from head office."

There were nods and muted greetings.

"He is their systems manger, and is here to study our, well, our system. You are aware Sedgeton's situation is not common. He will only be observing."

"Thank you Mr Cudlipp. I'd just like to confirm it really is observation only. I'm not going to be peering over your shoulders and asking daft questions."

There was a murmur of relief and a laugh.

"I'll be spending most of the day in Mr Cudlipp's office; just shuffling bits of paper around. That's all we ever do at head office anyway, as you well know!"

More laughter. The rest of that Harvest Saturday seemed to pass as it usually did. 'Mr Goldsmith' made two phone calls every hour, with no apparent fixed timing. After each one, he reassured Arthur all was well back at the farmhouse.

***

Mabel made lunch around one o'clock. The second man took Patty's up to her, and didn't look at her at all.

"Does my mother know I have no clothes on?" she asked.

He glanced at her.

"No clothes? I didn't notice."

Patty had not liked the first guy's staring and touching her. But was shocked to realise she didn't much like being ignored either.

"I'm bored." said number one, leaning back on the sofa. "Nothing on tv. I'd like to fondle a nice pair of tits Mabel."

She blushed and didn't know how to respond.

"You don't have to let me if you don't want to. Just say so, if you'd rather keep your pyjamas on."

Mabel opened her mouth to speak.

"But if you don't fancy it," he continued, "I'll pop upstairs and see if Patty is interested."

"OK."

"OK's a bit weak Mabel. Come and sit on my lap and tell me what you want."

He pushed his knees together and pulled her down facing him. She had no option but to straddle them.

"Well?"

"I want you to fondle my breasts." she said.

"Breasts? That's the white meat on a Christmas turkey. Call them tits and ask nicely."

The other guy came and sat next to him.

"Please fondle my tits!" she said, going pink.

"Well, ok then - if you insist."

He pulled her jacket off and threw it to one side. Then he gave them a good squeeze.

"Is that nice?"

"Yes."

"You're telling the truth. I can tell. Your nipples are as hard as diamonds!"

"Nipples never lie." said number two. "If you want me to do that as well, come and sit and on my lap."

Mabel shuffled over.

"Let's make this easy for you." said the first one. "We tell you what we would like to do, and you know that Patty is the alternative. Then you tell us if you want it. If you don't, say 'go and do that to Patty.' But if you do want it, say 'Please do blah blah to me.' But you have to make it believable. All women are actresses, so it shouldn't be difficult."

"OK."

"Only OK?" said number two. "That doesn't sound very enthusiastic Mabel. Try again." He pulled her nipples away from her until she gasped and screwed her eyes shut.

"Please would you both do everything you want to me? I'm really bursting for it!"

She went very red in the face, but got the sentence out.

"Not bad." said number two. "Let's see if you can also take the initiative."

He slid his hand down down the front of her pyjama trousers and massaged her pubic hair.

'You've got a lot more than your daughter." he said.

"Would you like a closer look? I'd be much more comfortable if I took these trousers off!"

"That's better. Get more comfortable then!"

She stood up and kicked her slippers off gracefully; then removed the pj bottoms and displayed her charms in front of their faces. She put her hands behind her hips and thrust her pubes towards them.

"Have a good look at my cunt!" she said. "You can do whatever you like to it!"

The phone rang, and number one went and picked it up. He waited but didn't speak. Then:

"Yeah, all fine here ...

... No, we're having some fun with Mabel. She wants us both to fuck her. You did say that would be all right.

... No, of course we won't. She's only eighteen."

He returned and sat on the sofa, next to two.

"Now, where were we?"

"You were about to examine my pink bits." said Mabel.

She pushed her pubic hair in his face; paused for a moment, then pulled her vulva open. She was fairly confident they were not going to molest her daughter, but wanted to make sure they had no reason to try. She tried to make herself look as sexy as possible; though she was sure her red face was a giveaway; then she had an idea. They had asked for initiative, so she turned her back. Without being asked, she spread her legs and pulled her buttocks apart.

"All for you!" she said. "I've always wanted to try one up my back passage. Perhaps you could both have a go!"

She felt much better. If they wanted anal sex, they were going to do it anyway. At least like this, they could not see her blushing face; and she didn't have to look at them.

"Very pretty." Said two.

He pushed her along to his mate who opened her buttocks even wider and stuck his tongue in.

***

Stan, the youngest cashier, was called into Cudlipp's office. It was fifteen minutes to closing time and business was slowing. He looked from one boss to the other.

"Stan." said Mr Goldsmith. "I'd like you to run a little errand for me."

A twenty pound note was produced and handed to him, along with a piece of paper.

"Here is a list of things I need from the supermarket before I go back to Head Office. Walk round there and buy them. It'll be past closing time when you're done, so return via the rear door. Will you do that?"

"Yes Mr Goldsmith."

"Good man. No need to mention this to the others, as I'll be authorising an hour's overtime for you. And you can keep the change."

So, Annette, the fourth member of staff, was the only one to leave via the front door, and it was locked behind her. Arthur Cudlipp and Miss Brahms began their closing down routine. The main lights were off by the time Stan returned, handed over two Tesco bags and left. Mr Goldsmith put them in the strongroom. They all went to the manager's office.

"Different plan today, Miss Brahms." began Arthur. Mr Goldsmith is instigating some changes."

She turned to look at the visitor. Her eyes widened when she saw the gun.

"First, I've a little job for you Arthur. In the toilets, I noticed there's a large bucket for the cleaning lady. Take it through to the strongroom and put it in a corner. Then come back here and take your clothes off. You know what will happen to your family if you don't."

Arthur left. Goldsmith turned to Miss Brahms.

"You can take your clothes off now."

He pointed the gun at her feet.

"If you whine, make any kind of noise, or disobey, I will shoot one of your toes off. And that will just be the start."

Miss Brahms had never married. She'd had a boyfriend at university, and had made him wait three months before she let him go all the way. He'd lasted less than four minutes. Their second time he'd managed five minutes. She'd dumped him, wondering what all the fuss was about. Then she'd gone out with some girlfriends to celebrate landing her first job; this job. Out in the toilets, and a little drunk, one of her friends had kissed her while they were washing their hands. Miss Brahms was appalled and slapped her face. When she rejoined the group, she was relieved to see that girl had left.

She'd gone on to have a few too many Babychams, and been groped by a drunken man in the carpark. A knee in the groin had dissuaded him from going any further. After that she affected the air of a woman whom it was better not to approach. She was popular and friendly, but was not 'up for it'. She read about astronomy, took tai chi classes, and went hiking with friends -- male and female. When it came to camping, she could put her tent up faster than most. And out in the courtyard, was her ten-speed bicycle.

Miss Brahms didn't like to be thought of as one of those 'ladies who lunch', let alone as a spinster. But that was what she was. At fortysix now, she was comfortable and content with her lot. And she was far from stupid, so she took her clothes off as ordered.

"What a fabulous body!" he enthused.

Arthur returned, stripped as instructed, and sat on a visitor's chair. He tended to agree with the assessment of Miss Brahms, as his penis quickly testified. The intruder stood behind her and held her hips.

"Lean forward and suck your boss till he's hard. It doesn't look as if it'll take very long."

He entered her as she bent to the task. She worried she could no longer see the gun.

"Bet you've done this loads of times!" said the stranger, thrusting harder.

She didn't know which offended her the most. Being raped, or being accused of something so outrageous.

***

By now, Patty had been allowed to the bathroom twice, and was wearing a robe - it was getting chilly. She was eating some hot home-made vegetable soup. Downstairs, the two jeans-clad intruders, usually big meat eaters, were surprised how much they'd enjoyed it.

"She's a good fuck, and a good cook!" laughed one.

Mabel was currently on her hands and knees, one having sex in her vagina, and the other in her mouth. They informed her it was spitroasting.

"Time we tried your back passage!"

'Good!' she thought. 'About time!'

Fifteen minutes later, they had tried every combination of double penetration. They finished within a minute of each other, filling both orifices. Then they allowed her to douche and tidy up at the kitchen sink. When she returned to the living room, number one ordered her to lie on her back, on the coffee table.

"I want your arse again; just me this time!" he announced.

She was astounded to see his erection was back so soon, apparently bigger than ever. Arthur was content with once a week, and had never shown any interest in anal. She lay back, and he slid his dick into her arse. The thrusting was more violent this time and he pushed her legs up to her shoulders. Mabel was still scared they might go and rape Patty. She got the impression that one of the two might be interested in her. So knew she must pretend to enjoy this assault. But the fact was -- she did enjoy it. As her knees squashed either side of her head, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her. She had no option but to kiss him back and promptly had her first anal orgasm. He climaxed too, filling her, then he stood.

"That's a great arse!" he said. "Bet your old man is up there every night!"