Chapter 1 – The Volunteer

It had been after work birthday drinks at a local wine bar for one of her co-workers, Susan couldn’t now even remember which one. The inevitable tray cake with a couple of sparklers had been produced, and then the various groups, mostly divided by office or department, had each laid claim to a table. Susan had settled with her usual bunch, the other women from payment processing, and they started on the true purpose of the night - gossip and alcohol.

They’d been there a while, and were all at least a little tipsy, when a woman with a clipboard, older, but smartly dressed in a navy trouser suit, had started circulating round the tables. Susan noticed the little stir of interest the woman caused at each table she visited, and was quite curious by the time she came over to them.

“Hi everyone. I’m Sandy.” she greeted Susan and her colleagues, giving them a warm smile.

Normally Susan would have shooed away anyone who approached her in a bar. She came out to wind down, not be sold things, donate to charities or, especially, be hit on. Sandy seemed different though. She looked a bit older than Susan - that was unusual enough - and, above a spotlessly clean collar, had a face that looked as though she was genuinely enjoying herself. There was certainly no trace of the weary, hungry look the average chugger or lothario generally sported.

That’s why she found herself saying, “Hi Sandy, what are you doing?” in a not unfriendly voice.

“Mostly getting blisters and cramp.” Sandy answered, though she looked quite cheerful about it. “Mind if I sit down?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but dropped lightly on a spare stool in front of the table. “Are you all having a good night?”

There was a rowdy chorus of yes-es from around the table. Drinking on empty stomachs had made most of the office girls quite merry.

“Any of you thought of being on the telly?”

Some of the younger women said yes straight away, an excited look in their eyes. The older ones, although none were over forty, were a little more circumspect, experience telling them to wait and find out more.

Sandy gave a conspiratorial wink to Marlene, a stony-faced thirty-four-year-old who certainly hadn’t answered her question, before continuing, “So does anybody fancy entering the lottery to appear on this year’s telethon?”

Most of those approaching forty looked thoughtful at this, while the younger ones were whispering, giggling, and nudging each other.

“You’ll impress your family and friends just by putting your name down.” Sandy encouraged them. “And don’t forget, if you’re not picked you get the chance to choose where you go when you are called-up.”

She addressed the younger ones, most still giggling. “It’s never too early to plan the future girls. Plus, if you are picked, you’ll be snuffed in front of the year’s largest TV audience.”

The noise level round the table dropped considerably. Susan was silent like many of the others as her mind, slowed by alcohol, tried to make such an important choice.

Waiting for your call-up meant you went where you were told. There was a chance it would be swift, possibly even just a beheading, while if you were picked by the telethon people you were just about guaranteed something longer - they did have twenty-four hours of live TV to fill. On top of that, whatever you ended up doing would be broadcast, no woman could hope to maintain her dignity struggling in agony, almost certainly in a state of undress.

On the other hand, waiting for call-up might mean something like the pet food grinder. There they didn’t even bother stunning the women first, just squeezed them still live into the hopper, so you felt the level of squirming howling flesh fall beneath you until your own feet were finally caught. Susan knew all about that, her husband James worked at a local pet food plant. His mates had even hinted they sometimes had a bit of fun before throwing the women in. Susan had once asked them what that was, but they’d just laughed and told her not to be impatient, she’d find out when it was her turn.

“Are a lot of people entering this year?” asked Marlene, obviously doing the same sort of mental calculations as Susan and the rest of the women over thirty.

“Not as many as last year.” admitted Sandy. “I think that pleader from last year is putting them off. Don’t worry though, we promise you at worst a thousand to one chance of being selected. Anyway, we always get a rush in the last week.”

It was the gin (and a tipsy estimate of a one in a thousand chance) that decided Susan.

“I’ll do it.” she announced, to a round of boozy cheering. “Where do I sign?”

Susan scribbled her details on one of Sandy’s forms. This seemed to break the ice and most of her older workmates signed up as well. Only one of the younger ones put her name down, getting a slightly awed cheer from rest of the girls around her.

“Wow.” said Sandy, as she collected the forms back in. “That’s more people than I’ve managed all day. I hope you ladies are lucky.”

Recklessly volunteering seemed to set the tone for the evening. All those who had signed up, even the ones who were usually quiet, seemed determined to treat it as their last hurrah. Susan was really quite drunk, and still pretty giggly, when she finally got home. Her house was in darkness, her husband on early shifts at the moment. She slipped in as quietly as she could, hoping not to wake up the children who had to be at school in the morning. Susan wasn’t worried about waking her husband, James would sleep through anything. His snoring was a bit disappointing, her daring decision had left her feeling quite randy.

****

Crawling back to consciousness next morning, Susan did not feel well. Blearily opening her eyes, trying to let in as little light as possible, she could just make out the outline of a large glass of water and packet of aspirin beside the bed – a wake up present from her husband. She swallowed both and tried to muffle the cheerful noises from her family until the drugs started to work.

“Good night?” asked James with a smile, as Susan stumbled into the kitchen, despite his kind supplies feeling only a little better.

She knew she should tell him about what she’d done last night, but her head was still pounding, and she didn’t feel confident that she wasn’t about to throw up.

“Okay.” she mumbled, not looking at him directly, fumbling in the sink to cover her lies. “I think someone was buying me doubles.”

“Looks more like triples to me. Don’t worry I’ll take the girls.” responded James lightly. He kissed the back of her head, then bustled out of the door with their daughters in tow.

It’ll be okay, Susan tried to reassure herself. In a few days I’ll get my rejection letter and then we can all have a laugh about it. She tried to push out of her mind the consequences if a different letter was sent.

****

Susan couldn’t discuss anything with her family, she’d have to reveal what she’d done. In the end she found herself reviewing her predicament with the dour-faced Marlene at work, an unexpectedly understanding audience.

“I think you’re right not to tell them.” Marlene responded after hearing Susan’s position. “If your girls are anything like I was at that age, they’ll get over-excited and start bragging at school. With such a small chance of your being chosen, they’ll end up looking a bit silly and boastful.”

It came as a shock to think of Marlene as a young girl, even more of her getting excited about anything. That was rather unfair though, Susan might be quite sensible now, but she’d been just as caught up in the telethon when she was young. For a teenager it was the biggest event of the year, and most of the older kids at school barely mentioned anything else for weeks.

“You don’t think they’ll be upset if they found out I entered afterwards?”

“My mum entered when I was still at school.” Marlene confided to her. “I told everyone about it and lapped up the attention. Then she wasn’t picked - you know how cruel kids can be when that sort of thing happens.”

“Especially girls.” Susan agreed.

“It got worse. Mum went and picked the pet food place where your James works now. After that most kids didn’t even believe she’d entered the lottery at all.”

“Why on earth did she volunteer for there?” Susan asked in some surprise. It wasn’t most women’s first choice by a long way.

“She was a damn cat lover, wasn’t she.” Marlene confessed, with a rueful smile. “Wanted to feed them. Knowing her luck she probably ended up as dogfood anyway.”

“I take it you haven’t told your kids yet? What about your husband.”

“No way. If Brian knew I was putting myself up for the telethon he’d probably try and get my name down for some special service.”

That left them both silent for a moment. No one really talked about what happened when a woman got selected for special service at call-up, in truth Susan suspected, in the circle where she moved, no one was entirely sure. What was certain was that the family got a big bonus afterwards. She’d heard of husbands volunteering their wives, or sometimes even wives volunteering themselves, but all the families involved had been pretty hard-up. She’d never heard of a wife from a comfortable middle-class family like Marlene’s being volunteered.

“Brian actually wants you to do special service?!” Susan sounded shocked, she felt shocked as well. “You don’t need the money do you?”

“Nah. It’s just that Brian’s got this thing about sending me off for it. He likes me to talk about it when we’re screwing.”

The conversation had turned pretty personal, and Susan was intrigued enough to ask, “Do you know what special service actually is then?”

“Of course not.” Marlene gave Susan one of her trademark withering looks. “I’ve never met anybody who does, have you? Mostly I just exaggerate stuff I can remember from the telethon and let Brian pinch my nipples or slap my bottom.”

Susan was disappointed, even the slightly unbelievable image of doleful Marlene naked and talking dirty wasn’t distracting her as something like that normally would. Sometimes she wondered about herself, usually she just felt slightly awkward talking about sex, even with women of her own age, not slightly aroused like she did now.

****

The days rushed by pretty quickly. Susan was spending quite a lot of time with Marlene. After years of working side by side, barely noticing the other’s existence, they’d suddenly become close confidantes. Then the morning came when a letter arrived…

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.