Chapter 4
Packing clothes carefully into a holdall, Sarah reflected on a crazy six months or so. After the unpleasantness of the incident with Davey, curse his eyes wherever he ended up, it all seemed to have been somewhat of a blessing in disguise.
Mark had forgiven her and the incident had receded into the background and eventually out of memory. Sarah's relationship with her mother had returned to a state of cordiality. Life had gone on.
She mused that things were just about as back to normal as things could have been. The only regret was the vigorousness of their love making had fell away back to pre-dalliance levels and Sarah accepted that this must just simply be the natural order of things.
Her packing was proceeding in a perfunctory fashion. Mark had suggested that maybe they should take a holiday away somewhere and after several false starts they had settled on a caravan out in North Wales. It wasn't exactly shopping in New York but after the year they had had it was a perfect chance to just go and disconnect from the world for a short while.
It was supposed to be a surprise but after several attempts to book a surprise get away had fallen flat due to a variety of issues Mark abandoned the surprise getaway and they planned it together. Marks friend had come through for them with a caravan on the side of a mountain in Wales and from all the pictures they had seen it looked gorgeous.
A selection of evening wear was added to the growing packed items and Sarah was done. As she made a quick check of her things to make sure nothing had been forgotten she made a snap decision to add her vibrator. She followed that by a second snap decision and threw in her one and only pair of black stockings. Just in case.
Mark was out picking up some supplies that would be needed and Sarah had impressed upon him the need for a large jar of Nutella. She had made an effort to try and shift some weight over the past months which ultimately in spite of her best effort had seen her lose only two pounds, but she was loathe to give up the Nutella. A girl has to keep certain standards after all.
Mark would be home soon and then they could get on with the drive out to the middle of nowhere.
For Mark the last six months hadn't quite been the same journey of self-reacceptance that Sarah had made. Since the Rubicon had been crossed with Anya, Mark had spent several weeks quietly probing Sarah to find a way for her to reveal the truth. As it turns out she was very unwilling to take the opportunity for redemption she was, albeit unbeknownst to her, being offered.
In the end the straw which had broken the camel's back came and went and planning, negotiation and implementation of planned retribution had begun to take shape. It was Anya who had provided the caravan home that they were going to travel to and an elaborate deception plan was instigated to completely dispel any suspicion.
Six weeks into planning and Anya had reveal a lot of details which would be stepping well and truly across the boundaries of many laws and she also took the time to remind Mark he was an accomplice in these matters. He was not stupid and knew that if once side screwed the other then they would both go down in flames. It was comforting for Mark to have that almost contractual bond with Anya.
For her part Anya was equally forthcoming with details and at the exact same time frustratingly vague. They agreed that Sarah's bogus online dating and online hook up accounts needed some additional material of a more personal nature to sell it as more believable to any interested onlooker and Mark had read some of the fictional exchanges between "Sarah" and her online suitors. Anya was very creative in the writing of some material that would make a drunken sailor blush. Come to think of it Mark wasn't sure it was Anya who had written it. It mattered not.
One evening Mark and Anya had discussed what Mark wanted from this snare they were setting. Over an incredible lasagne that Anya had made they cut through the bullshit. He wanted Sarah to know she wasn't in control anymore. He wanted her to suffer the way he felt he had suffered inside. The pain and the humiliation that just wouldn't disperse. Jokingly he said he wanted more sex but he realised it wasn't a joke. She was prepared to give up her pussy to someone else then why not him.
They had spent the rest of that evening outlining the overarching plan. It would involve Mark playing the dutiful dickhead husband, smiling and pretending everything was ok. He had managed it but it wasn't easy.
That being said he still repeatedly sought assurances regarding Sarah's wellbeing and safety and after some serious pressing Anya gave vocal confirmation Sarah would not be murdered, mutilated, dismembered or maliciously wounded in any permanent way. Mark wanted to ask what those specifics meant but chose not to; basing that decision along the lines that he scored the win he wanted and didn't want to risk a back track on anything. If Sarah was to take a slap then it was the very least she deserved he rationalised.
As the conspiracy grew and solidified Anya and her darker than expected past encroached in on Marks slightly more beige life. He was introduced to three gentlemen who were clued in as to what was occurring and clearly deferred to Anya. No real specifics were discussed with these guys and it was made clear it was just an effort to allow Mark to know that these guys may be about the area and not to concern himself too much. Mark got the impression that at least one of the men was chatting with "Sarah" on at least one of her online dating circles.
The plan had taken a strong shape and inwardly Mark was a little excited about it. The Karma behind a slut being caught in the trap of being a slut was ironic but also a little bit straight out of the Penthouse Forum stories. If it turned out a quarter as titillating as those bawdry tales then Mark was going to enjoy himself...
A couple of weeks before the trap was sprung Anya had asked Mark to collect a bag from her house one evening. This he dutifully done and when he nearly wrenched his back out of shape picking up a deceptively heavy plain black bag he had enquired as to the contents. He was told it was stuff needed for the job and the clanking of metal and the simple weight of the bag gave Mark some cause for concern. However he did not press the issue and elected to not open the bag deciding he didn't need to know and didn't want to know what the contents were.
The next day Anya and Mark had once again met up to eat another superb home cooked lasagne when the final element of the plan was stitched in to place. Anya had shown Mark an app on a phone which appeared to be an escort booking service. There was a very generic profile which had received almost no traffic which had been registered to an email address bearing Sarah's name. It was explained that it was blank for the time being and they would use the media content gathered to flesh out the profile as time moved along. It made a delicious twist and one Mark was certain Sarah wouldn't be able to manoeuvre out of.
Mark had ventured a question regarding the bags contents and Anya agreed to meet the next day to show Mark a little bit about a little bit.
The next day the plotting duo met and made the short journey to a tanning salon on a busy high street just across town. It was owned by an older lady who didn't query Anya as she entered the building and made her way upstairs to the flat above.
It took Mark a few moments to realise that this was a place where a prostitute worked. It was clean and functional and showed plenty of sign of wear and tear. Anya showed mark a cupboard and all the apparatus and devices contained within and implication thereof was left to hang in relation to the contents of the black bag.
That day a date was finalised and with that the planning phase or at least Marks element was complete. It was a relief to have the pressure lifted away and Mark and Anya got to chatting about non Sarah based issues, which was a luxury the two had not had for neigh on six months.
Mark realised he had never in all the time he had known her asked what she did for a living. Everything had always been centred on Davey and she had almost slipped in under the radar. He felt a little ashamed that he had never extended her that courtesy.
Anya told Mark she was involved in the family business which was something to do with installing road surfaces under contract for the local councils. Her family had made their legitimate money based on businesses bought from the proceeds of providing small short term loans to people who chose not to use traditional money lending avenues.
That explained quite a bit about this scheme they had concocted Mark had thought wryly.
With everything in place Mark made his way home with not one but two jars of Nutella. He decided that Sarah was going to have a bad week and within that bad week she was very likely going to have a very, very bad couple of days so he pushed to the expense to second jar. After all he decided, he wasn't a monster.
With the car packed with all the bags and all the supplies they were finally able to begin their journey. Of course one of them was going to embark on a much more arduous journey than the other but that is nature of consequence of action.
Following the satnav faithfully, Mark made good progress and since she wasn't required to drive, Sarah took advantage of the time to nap.
You better get as much sleep as possible
, Mark thought. He was though grateful that she had gone to sleep. It eliminated the need for small talk and though Marks resolve was strong, he still harboured a small amount of doubt now they stood on the threshold.
Some two and a half hours later Mark threaded the car gradually more and more uphill and houses and buildings became even more infrequent. Eventually he found the small village shop which doubled up as a post office and stopped. This was a pre-arranged rendezvous where the keys to the caravan could be collected. It also represented the point of no return.
With no preamble Mark headed straight inside and was not surprised in the slightest to recognise the face behind the counter. It was one of the three men whom Anya had brought into the plot some months ago. He had an Eastern European look to him and combined with the bald head, he looked a guy not to mess with.
For his part he made no sign of recognition toward Mark and Mark followed the example being set.
"I've come to collect a key for the Mountain Vale Retreat Caravan Park." He announced.
Mr Eastern European nodded "The name please?"
"Paye. Mark Paye."
The bald head disappeared under the counter and remerged with an envelope bearing Marks name which was handed over.
"Please check contents are correct as we are to close soon and cannot correct anything later." The clipped short sharp syllables definitely sounded Eastern European Mark decided. Polish perhaps? Russian? Romanian?
Mark peeled the envelope open and two keys dropped out onto the counter as well as a set of instructions on how to connect the gas supply and how to turn on the electricity to the caravan. There was also a list of local attractions to visit and things to do which brought a faint smile to the edges of Marks mouth given the nature of the visit to this area.
There was also a map printed from google maps showing the location of the caravan and the best route out there. It was apparently a further forty five minutes away and, at least according to the map he was looking at, very much in the middle of nowhere, not that he had doubted Anya in the least.
The final item was a piece of paper which simply said -
if you don't hand the keys back we go ahead as planned
.
Mark made a show of making a final check of the contents before screwing the note up and asking Eastern Europe to throw it away. He made a slightly bigger show of putting the keys into his pocket, partly for the friendly shop keeper's benefit and partly in case Anya was watching any CCTV which may or may not be recording.
