“Get stuck into that, baby. I’ll find you something with a little more zip in it when they’ve gone.”
“How do I turn the pages with only one hand?” I asked, looking at the book. It was entitled Gynecology for Advanced Students.
“Glad you reminded me, baby.” He took out his key. “We keep the cuffs out of sight. These punks are softhearted.”
I watched him transfer the handcuff to my ankle, scarcely believing my good luck. It was quite a moment in my life.
“Okay, baby, mind you behave,” he went on, as he re-tidied the bed. “If they ask you how you like it here, tell them we’re looking after you. Don’t let’s have any back answers. They won’t believe anything you say, and you’ll have to talk to me after they have gone.”
I opened the book. The first page I came to made me blink.
“I don’t know if I’m old enough to look at this,” I said, and showed him the page.
He stared, sucked in his breath sharply, snatched the book away from me and gaped at the title.
“For crying out loud! Is that what it means?” and he went shooting out of the room with it, returning breathlessly with a copy of the parallel translation of Dante’s Inferno. I wished I had kept my mouth shut.
“That’ll impress them,” he said with satisfaction. “Not that the punks can read, anyway.”