by Stan Mason
‘Prisoner at the bar!’ announced the Judge, in tones which sounded like the knell of doom itself. ‘You’ve heard the charge read out to you. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?’
‘Not guilty,’ returned the driver, swallowing hard for he knew himself to be guilty but followed the advice of his Counsel who intended to plead mitigating circumstances.
The Judge nodded to the Prosecution Counsel. ‘Very well, Mr. Thurrock. You may proceed!’
A man in a black gown and white wig rose to his feet and waved a sheet of papers in front of him. ‘How can you stand there and say to the world that you’re not guilty. Mr. Purdy, when you know full well, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are?’ he demanded furiously. ‘You killed two people in separate incidents and you have the audacity to plead that you’re not guilty. What kind of a man are you? Surely you have some conscience and moral respect for the truth! Or do you wish to insult the intelligence of this Court? Perhaps also you can tell this Court why you so resent people who wear yellow oilskins... if in fact you do have an answer!’
‘Look!’ cried the truck driver despairingly. My record had a clean sheet until recently. I never killed anyone in my life until then... let alone two people. I didn’t mean to do it. I hadn‘t had an accident in all my years as a truck driver. I swear it on the Holy Bible!.
The Prosecuting Council glanced down at the papers in his hand. ‘Never before eh? Do you recall an incident that occurred in Oxford...’
‘That wasn’t my fault,’ interrupted Purdy urgently. ‘He ran into the back of me while I was waiting at the lights.’
‘But you just told us you had never been involved in an accident before. You swore it on the Holy Bible! That’s what you said, wasn’t it? And by your own admission in your previous statement you admitted having killed two people. You’re under oat, Mr. Purdy, and yet you plead not guilty. How can you say that and expect this Court to consider your plea seriously? Is that what you’re asking us to do... let you off scot free?’
‘Well no... I mean yes!’ stuttered the accused. ‘I didn’t intend to kill anyone. The first one was the fault of a dog. The second one... well I wasn’t to know that a man was standing in the middle of the motorway in the pouring rain in the dark.’
‘The first was the fault of a dog. Was it driving the vehicle? Of course not! Where is this dog? The husband of the woman you ran over doesn’t own a dog! And as for the man you killed on your way to Manchester, well it appears that you ignored the diversion sign and ploughed on without care or due attention unauthorised along the motorway. And because of that misdemeanour, you killed a man. Now... having admitted to the two deaths, will you change your plea to guilty? Or do we have to go through a tortuous Court case before we throw the book at you?’
‘Guilty!’ shouted Purdy at the top of his voice. ‘I’m guilty! Guilty!’ The words reverberated in his ears until he felt that his head would explode. When he opened his eyes, he discovered it had all been a bad dream. He was sitting in the cabin of his vehicle on the hard shoulder of the motorway with the mantle of despair resting on his shoulders. ‘Oh, God!’ he uttered with a sigh of relief. ‘I thought I was done for!’ He started the engine and moved back into the centre lane to proceed in the direction of Manchester. The perspiration poured down his face and his eyes felts as though they had sunk into his head. However physical problems had to be cast aside. If someone had seen the accident, they would have called the police, who would have come after him in pursuit. He had to leave the motorway as quickly as possible to avoid detection, losing himself in the country roads. In normal circumstances, someone would have taken his registration number but the appalling conditions, as well as the diversion, let him off the hook. There were three factors that stood in his favour. The first was that his truck was the only vehicle to cut a new path away from the diversion All the other drivers would have turned off the highway well before the point of the incident. The second was the fact that the man was well beyond of vision of anyone turning off at the diversion. He had been about a hundred yards ahead. Thirdly, for some strange reason, the man had been standing there alone. There was no one else with him, or even close to him, who could identify the offending lorry or its driver.
To anyone reflecting the sanctity of the ten commandments, the taking of a life was considered to be a major mortal sin. Although Jim Purdy could not be regarded religious in any sense of the word, and his moral attitude left much to be desired, he was not the kind of person who went out of his way to wilfully kill someone else. Before the pressures of his business made him intolerable, he was a most amiable and pleasant man. Now, after years of careful motoring, whereby he boasted a clean driving record, he had started to knock down pedestrians at a rate of geometric progression. He recalled films he had seen in the local cinema where the dialogue related that a second killing carried out by an individual had far less impact on the murderer than the first one... making it easier and easier to kill. He had never expected himself to be in the same category but now that it had happened, he knew the axiom to be right. The second killing, although horrific, had much less impact on him than the accident in Cornwall. However there was one key issue that was most important. The crime was one thing... getting away with it was another. In both cases the accidents had occurred in darkness. Discounting the person who had been rooted to the spot in Cornwall, on neither occasion had there been any witnesses. Yet even if he could claim mitigating circumstances, Purdy would never be able to forgive himself for killing two people. Driving was his profession... the only thing he knew. Accidents were sometimes inevitable but killing someone was taboo! Killing two people in separate driving incidents was unpardonable! He mused that it might be preferable for the police to charge him and put him on trial. Although he would never be able to expunge the guilt it would free his mind from the responsibility, even though he might be severely punished for it. If he failed to do so, his stomach would turn over every time there was a knock at the door. And he would curl up every time he saw a policeman examining his truck. He would have to go on living knowing that he was guilty, having caused suffering and grief to the families of both of the deceased. However, whatever he did, he couldn’t bring them back to life again!
He had begun to learn that while guilt remained a scourge to the empire of his mind, he had to go on living in the real world. He mopped his face with a towel on the dashboard and then turned off the motorway to lose himself in the countryside. The man’s body would be found within the next few hours and the police would start their enquiries. It would be too soon for them to make any real headway. He found himself driving through small villages and along country lanes in the darkness. By early morning he would be miles away. His logic seemed to hold because he passed two police patrol cars some time after dawn, just before he reached his destination. Neither one of them took any interest in his lorry. A very small dent appeared on the front wing of the truck caused at the moment of impact but there were no other signs relating to the accident. He began to dwell on the words of Jennifer Roach which he had heard so clearly when he returned to London. Everyone would tell him that it was all in his imagination but there was no doubt that he saw her and heard her voice. It was an eerie thought and he shuddered at the concept.
After lighting a cigarette, he inhaled the smoke deeply. The nicotine tended to dull his senses although he would have liked something much stronger to calm his nerves. His wristwatch showed he would have to wait for over an hour before the depot opened and he sat in his cabin patiently. He was halfway through the cigarette when he heard the sound of high-heels tapping on the concrete path a short distance away. Within a few moments, the figure of a woman came into view. She stared at him and the a smile lit up on her face.
‘Purdy!’ she exclaimed joyfully. ‘What are you doing in this part of the world? I thought you were dead, or retired, or recycled!’
‘Well, well! If it isn’t Katy Morrel
l!’ he returned with amazement, climbing out of the cabining. Long time no see! Still on the night shift as usual. How’s business these days?’
‘Rotten!’ she retorted. ‘It’s impossible to find a real man these days. They’re all wimps and perverts. And they all want sex on credit. I tell you it’s impossible to make a living these days.’
‘Why are you walking around this end of town at this time of the morning?’
‘Because I live here. Couldn’t afford the high rent. I thought I was running into another pervert when I saw you. The place is crawling with them.
‘Everything seems to be getting worse,’ he said philosophically. ‘Crime, inflation, taxes, you name it.!’
‘Look,’ she said, moving closer to him, ‘if you’ve an hour to spare, why don’t you come back to my place? For old time’s sake. And if you don’t feel playful I can make you a cup of hot coffee. I live only five minutes away. I remember you from the old days, Jim Purdy! We used to have some real fun’ Her hand touched the collar of his shirt as she pretended to straighten out a small wrinkle. ‘And this one’s on me!’ She pouted her lips to entice him.
‘I don’t think so, Katy,’ he resisted. ‘I’ve got to unload the truck and get back to London pretty sharply. You see, I’m in business on my own now.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ she persisted. ‘We’ll make it a quickie. Come on, you’ve been driving for hours. I’ll ease away all those tensions. All your worries will drift away under my tender touch. It’ll be like old times. Look, it’s been a quiet night. I could do with a favour from a real man.’ She ran the two fingers of one hand sensually along his jaw and down his neck.
He hesitated, toying with the idea for a few seconds. At such moments in life, a man tried not to argue with morality. It was a case of taking advantage of an opportunity. The sense of sexual awakening, which Katy Morrell brought out in him, over-rode the sadness and despair which had haunted him. As her hand moved down his chest and around his waist, he felt the frustration begin to ease from his mind and body. It would be an hour before the depot opened. If he spent a little time with the woman, he would be back long before then.
‘You’re a witch!’ he reproached with amusement. ‘Casting your evil spell over me like this! In the Middle Ages they would have drowned you in a ducking pond or burned you at the stake. Just you wait until I get you home. I’ll teach you a lesson or two!’
‘Boasting!’ she laughed. ‘Boasting! We’ll soon find out what kind of a man you are!’
Her laughter cut through the morning air as he checked that the doors of the truck were locked. Then she took him by the hand and led him homeward. She told him it was a very humble abode that she rented as a result of her need to reduce expenses. Without a pimp to look after her, she was forced to conduct her business independently outside the areas paraded by the other ladies of the night. This meant that her clientele was a fraction of what it could have been in terms of numbers, and she had to charge a much lower tariff for her services. Purdy cared nothing for her problems. He had his own to worry about. The only thought in his mind was to use the woman so that he could ease his tension... something she was willing to do for the joy of friendship.
When they arrived at her home, she closed the door behind him and took him directly to the bedroom, reaching down by the side of the bed to produce a bottle of gin which was half full.
‘I save this for special occasions,’ she confided reaching out to gather two glasses.
‘Very nice,’ he told her smiling amiably. ‘It’s good to be thought special in a world where everyone thinks only of money and nothing else.’ She handed him one of the glasses and they raised them to the same level until they touched. ‘That went down nicely,’ he told her after downing the whole drink in one gulp, releasing a deep breath at the sharpness of the spirit.
‘Like another one?’
‘Leave it off, Katy!’ he chided. ‘I’m driving a truck. I’ve got my licence to think of!’
She placed her empty glass on the floor and drew him towards her on the bed. ‘There’s no time to waste. Do you know it must be four or five years since we made love together. All those years! How time flies? You were one of my favourite regulars in those days.’
‘Is it really that long? Mind you, I feel like I’m a hundred years old. Life hasn’t treated me well.’
‘Then let me make you feel young again. There’s no other woman who can make you feel like that. Not in this whole world!’
He lay beside her for a few moment in the dull room trying to erase all thoughts of his wife and the two accidents. Katy would help him to forget everything. She raised herself from the bed and began to undress. Her experience in removing her clothing was an art form in itself. She could do so sensuously in a matter of seconds, wearing nothing underneath a dress that zipped up at the front. She stood before him completely naked and he stared at her full breasts, licking his lips in anticipation as he surveyed the rounded softness and her prim nipples. Then slowly his eyes followed her body downwards to see her in her full glory.
‘Do you like what you see?’ she asked temptingly, adopting a pose she knew would excite the man.
‘I sure do!’ he responded lustfully, his heart beating faster as the urge rose swiftly within him. ‘And I want to touch and hold! Oh how I want to touch and hold!’
A ripple of laughter peeled from her lips as she moved slowly and seductively towards him. Her slender hands started to undo the buttons on his shirt and then loosened his belt at the waist. ‘Hm!’ she uttered almost in a whisper. ‘You still have that strong physique I always loved. I can hardly wait!’
‘And you still have that fantastic body I want so much. I need you, Katy! I need you lime no man has needed you before!’
She pulled off his shirt and he moved his arms to speed up the process. Then after he had kicked off his shoes, he swiftly removed his trousers. She eased on to the bed, placing her legs on each side of his body and ran her hands over his shoulders, moving downwards all the time. When she reached a point some way below his navel, her face lit up with a bright smile. ‘What a big boy then?’ she laughed smoothly. ‘Who’s a real man?’
He closed his eyes as she caressed him gently. She was an expert in the field of erotic and sexual activity having the experience of fifteen years of walking the streets. Not only that but she was a hard worker too... always giving full value for money. As she worked with a smoothness like the touch of velvet, he felt his body relax. ‘God!’ he exclaimed in ecstasy, ‘it’s years since any woman made me feel this way. That was when I was last with you!’
‘I told you,’ she boasted immodestly. ‘There’s only one Katy to look after real men properly. I know just what my men like.’ she continued working until he was fully aroused and then moved her body on top of him as he lay flat on his back. ‘Today.’ she told him as she found the right spot for their sexual union, ‘you are a three year old colt just about to go into the stalls for the Derby and I’m your jockey. We’ll have to take it easy for the first six furlongs, cruising along at a canter, otherwise we won’t have enough energy for the finish.’ She raised her body and let it fall slowly time and time again to express her meaning, simulating a jockey moving up and down in the saddle. There was silence for a while and then she moved the play to the next level. ‘Now that we’ve passed the six furlong marker, we need to pick up speed a little more to keep up with the rest of the runners.’ Her pace quickened slightly during a further period of silence as she moved her body up and down on top of him a little faster. ‘And now we come to the last two furlongs, where we’ve got to quicken to reach the winning post ahead of all the others and win the first prize!’ She began to move up and down faster and faster, grunting noisily with the effort as she started to perspire. Most of her clients reached a climax before they got to the winning post, often collapsing before the last two furlongs. Howe
ver Purdy was the exception. Not only was he a stayer but, with the problems of business and the accidents still on his mind, he was unable to concentrate on reaching a climax. Katy continued working admirably as a jockey long after they had reached the winning post, gaining more respect for the driver’s sexual prowess than he deserved. She could cater for the clients who weakened quickly... they were ten a penny. They left her cold so that she could continue with her work without any satisfaction. However when a man maintained his condition without quarter to this extent, it brought out something within her that she had failed to experience for some years. ... she became fully aroused. It awakened a yearning inside her which had remained dormant. She hadn’t felt this way about sexual intercourse with a man for an awful long time. By now she could feel herself wet with perspiration all over her body and every fibre within her seemed to sing. Instead of becoming fatigued, his continuity brought out the adrenalin within her forcing her to become more forceful with each stride. And then two things happened which shocked both of them independently of each other. The first was the orgasm which Katy experienced... the first for nearly five years. Her body felt as though she was floating in space, glowing like the peak of an erupting volcano. It was a unique sensation which drained all the toxins from within her, leaving nectar to flow in her veins. It was heavenly bliss. A dull grey world had turned suddenly into a galaxy of Technicolor. The second event referred to Purdy. The reason for his staying power was the thought of Mr. Williams, his bank manager. The distraction was sufficient to prevent him from being satisfied and collapsing like any other mortal. It didn’t stop there however, He found his mind playing on the vision of Jennifer Roach pulling back the hood of her yellow oilskins. Although the thought was a figment of his imagination, his eyes had opened widely as he envisage the flash of yellow and he released a loud scream. It occurred to him that he might never be able to enjoy the experience of a sexual relationship for the rest of his life if the woman’s ghost haunted him so fiercely. She was clearly going to take her revenge on him in one way or another. Preventing him from enjoying sexual activity was one method by which she would achieve her aim.
