Ruth's fantasy

Life drifted on, as if in a dream.

The Sun shone gently. With Ruth, almost by accident, finding her secret combination. We had driven nowhere a few times. On each occasion she was reticent, only now and again breaking out into some theory, waving her long manicured fingers, often letting go of the steering wheel completely, in her effort to put some ideas across.

Evidently her biggest bug being the family. The mother overwhelming intent on her settling down and marrying a 'nice Jewish boy', preferably one with indisputable prospects. Whenever I called to pick her up for a lesson, usually had a reception committee at the opened door. They had all stopped eyeing me with almost unconcealed suspicion, convinced that I could, in no way whatever, possibly appeal to their eldest daughter. Any fool could see I was practically a tramp, the baggy trousers, the green corduroy jacket, the knotted mass of ginger hair, the dark glasses. No girl would waste a second look at a man like that. Only Vivien, shrewd as they come,  not quite so sure. More than once  having caught her giving me that fleeting, curious look.

Ruth was expensive, nothing 'Woolworth's about her. She looked good, smelled good and dressed well. In her own mind she knew it all. Yes, she had tried dutifully with the boys ... nothing had happened inside her, she remained cold…indifferent Gradually I realised that she was cold because no one had understood her fantasies...had tried in any way to do so.   So simply  a matter of falling in with them.

Decided to go along when she started to wynd herself up, usually at Fred's, sitting in the lounge, watching the late night horror. Fred, more than overwhelmed by her looks and her intensity. He, very nervous when it came to women. Hardly know where he found the temerity to get married.

Perhaps he too had problems with his mother, living like a ghost somewhere in the bowels of the old house, only being produced on birthdays and at Christmas. Her influence  still strong over him. He would jump and become quite upset if she appeared on the scene without prior notice. What really sold Ruth to him completely,  the evening  he suggested  we played cards… after the spot on the screen. Nothing ever happened in that house until that moment. I, never much at cards, never lucky. Fred beamed and shuffled the pack ... we would play poker. Did Ruth play that? Had to give her credit. She fooled me. We would play a couple of hands just to get the feel of it ... By four a.m. Fred was about thirty quid down to Ruth. I was a fiver down and Vie had gone to bed in the middle of it all. Ruth had given herself away only by the manner in which she held her cards . close . compact, a cigarette between her fingers. She, silent, looking at us through the smoke,  face in a fixed expressionless stare - only breaking into a smile when Fred fell for her bluff of threes. Had not seen him so happy for a long while. Strange how a woman can break into any situation.

Once Fred overcame his barely concealed annoyance at losing ... to a woman ... Ruth suddenly his best friend.

"When are you bringing Ruth round again?" ... avoiding Vie's eye, knowing that he was working less, playing more ..only needing the slightest inducement for him to walk away from the typewriter. But Fred would not be put off. For more years than he cared to remember. He had played poker with his 'friends'… had made all the right noises, said all the right things, until it had lapsed into nothing more than a ritual. Ruth had changed this deadly monotony…brought him back to life. She not only beat him soundly at his own game, but casual with it. But she remained elusive, disappearing abruptly, after checking her watch, without giving any explanation and I never asked. She gave the impression that anything in that direction would not be welcome.

Time passing. The driving lessons  apparently, going on for ever. Her family suddenly alert, suspicious.. The twice weekly call at the house, now  little more than a cover. I  getting a different, guarded look now. So was Ruth. The moment she waved to me and banged the street door shut, questions could be heard.. shouted about the house. Finally forced to stop calling by the mother, tall, handsome, intense,  the real driving force, whipping herself into a frenzy without any real provocation. Her husband, equally tall, apparently calm, looking rather like an ambassador in his smart suits, never heard him actually raise his voice against her ...  preferring to suffer ... mostly men do ...

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Ruth's fantasy, not so  easily definable, keeping it close by. Only by accident  able to unlock it, simultaneously breaking up the few remaining fragments of my own life.

We had been out in Fred's car, Ruth and I ... still trying it on.  Had cruised to the usual spot at High Beach. The night  very black. Trees in the headlights  menacing, throwing long shadows along  twisting lanes, all very 'as usual'. Radio soft, Luxembourg pumping out the adverts and mood music, which apparently not doing a great deal for my cause.  Ruth had gone very quiet….

Silent, only her breathing heavy. Imperceptibly I stopped, frightened to fragment the moment  quite instinctively I knew had arrived ... just the faintest vibration from the engine. Twisted in my seat to look at her clearly ... she was sweating, hands clenched tightly in her lap. Reached over and touched her arm very gently as if waking someone from a sleep, her response  to push herself into the corner, furthest point away from me. "Don't touch me". This emerged, reminding me of the voice of a 'medium', the oldest phrase in the female vocabulary. 

Played along with the game for a while, but suddenly snapped, becoming the male, the aggressor. Tired of the endless tirade coming from female mouths. All their assertions, their attempts at domination. Their claim to domination dissipated with my hand firm on her knee, sliding it forcibly up towards the apex of her tights. No resistance. The weeks of waiting, arguing, the accrued instincts, the disappearances, everything reduced itself to the lowest common denominator, a boiling upheaval that came from her body in a scream that she was only partly able to smother by jamming her fist into her mouth. Finally I let go ... in a flash she was out of the car, onto the road, naked, fleeing down the hill towards the church, her body strangely white, caught in the lights of the car.

Struggled to get some clothes on… about five hundred possibilities running through my head, all of them bad. She had disappeared. I knew every inch of the area,  also knew that to find anyone here in the darkness was practically impossible. My turn to sweat, all it needed, the law to come cruising quietly by …having to explain my looking for a naked lady. ……hardly believe that.

She was standing just inside the church porch, walked back to the car in silence, she  icy, acting as if we had been married for years. Fished in her bag for a cigarette, looked at her watch by the lights on the dash, gradually dressing herself,

"You've hurt me."

"Oh! Where?"

"Where do you think?" She  reproachful.  "And I've damaged my foot."  held her head back, blew smoke slowly into the air. Dropped my window. The insanity  of those few moments   gone as with the heat which had burnt us both up. Let the car roll down the lane, touched the main road, twisted the ignition, heading for 'home'.

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