Scrap CH TWO part 14

CH TWO 14
For once Scotty is happy to be driving to Birmingham on a Sunday night, away from the rattle of voices and constant demands on his time. Ken has decided to foist his son Patrick on him during the forthcoming half term holidays. He will act as driver’s mate, helping with loading, sheeting, roping and anything else Scotty can think of. Ken says he needs toughening up, that living with his mother is turning him into a right softy. Anyone who knows Patrick will have noticed that the boy has always been a bit of a softy, the opposite to Golden Boy Kenneth who could do no wrong in the eyes of his adoring parents. Scotty is dreading being lumbered with the lad but has no choice in the matter. He will make the most of this coming week while he is free to go as he pleases without the thought of someone looking over his shoulder all the time.
Two young girls are standing on the side of the road thumbing a lift. He knows Dawn would not approve but she isn’t here so he stops and leans over to open the door. ‘Where are you going?’ he shouts above the rattle of the engine. ‘London,’ they reply. Scotty says he can take them some of the way and they reveal plenty of leg as they hitch up their tight skirts to climb in. They don’t look much older than his Heather, and this makes Scotty feel better because at least he knows they are safe with him.
Even after switching off the radio it is difficult to hold a conversation above the noise from the engine and rumble of tyres on the road surface. ‘I’m Jim,’ says Scotty, ‘what are your names?’ The girl sitting nearest him leans closer to shout her reply. ‘I’m Sally and this is Jean, we’ve been staying with our Aunty while we train to be nurses. We’ve been home for the weekend at our mum’s.’ Scotty has heard most of that and leans closer to the one nearest him. ‘So you’re sisters then; it must be nice studying together.’
The chubby one wedged against the door pokes her head forward and adds: ‘Mum and Aunty are both nurses; it’s a good career with a good pension at the end of it.’ Scotty laughs at this, ‘aren’t you a bit young to be worrying about pensions?’ Sally, the slimmer of the sisters, moves to perch on the engine cover so she can hear what the driver is saying. ‘How long have you been a lorry driver?’ she asks. Scotty thinks for a moment before replying; ‘must be ten years now. Started out as a driver’s mate then as soon as I turned 21 the boss let me have a go at driving and it went from there.’
They chat about nothing in particular for a few minutes then Scotty asks if they don’t feel it’s a bit risky thumbing lifts especially with all the recent news of nasty things happening to young girls. ‘Safety in numbers,’ says Sally, ‘anyway I always carry my secret weapon.’ She pats her handbag, which has been sitting in her lap, her arm through the handle. ‘We’re safe with you, aren’t we Jim?’ Scotty assures her that they are and tells them he has two daughters not much younger than themselves but he wouldn’t be happy to know they are going around thumbing lifts from strangers.
‘You must have picked up some interesting people on your travels,’ says Sally, don’t you worry about picking up strangers though?’ Scotty says he has never thought of it that way. Mostly he needs the company to help him stay awake on long journeys. ‘Sometimes I get a young musician making his way to a gig somewhere and he’ll play the guitar and sing for me. Some of them have been quite good. I had an American lad in the cab a few years ago and he was brilliant. Said he liked travelling that way because it kept him in touch with real people. I did have one creepy experience picking up a hitchhiker but that was ages ago when I was only seventeen. I was riding my scooter home one night and the rain was chucking it down. I could barely see where I was going and suddenly there was this young lass standing at the side of the road, dripping wet and sobbing her heart out.’
Jean shuffles closer to hear the tale. ‘Well of course I offered to help,’ Scotty continues, ‘she said she’d missed the last bus home and her widowed mum would be frantic. She gave me the address and got on the back of the scooter. I drove all the way to her house, which was in the middle of nowhere and turned off the engine but when I looked round she was nowhere to be seen.’ Sally suggests that maybe she had fallen off on the way, but Scotty insists that he had felt her arms around his waist throughout the journey. ‘It didn’t make sense,’ he continues, ‘so I walked up the garden path and knocked on the door of the cottage, not realising it was almost one O’clock in the morning. This old lady came to the door, scared out of her wits and called through the letterbox. I told what had happened and she wrenched open the front door and started hitting me with an umbrella.’
Sally and Jean are intrigued, ‘what happened next?’ asks Jean. ‘When she’d calmed down she told me that her daughter had died ten years ago to the day, to the hour, on the back of a motorbike. She had accepted a lift from a stranger after missing the last bus home and they had skidded on the road, killing both of them instantly.’
The girls shudder, ‘what a horrible thing to happen. What did you say to the poor woman?’ Asks Jean. ‘Well of course I apologised for causing her such a shock but how was I to know? I was only trying to do a good deed. The poor woman said it had happened before, always on the same night, always at the same time. Well believe me, if I’m ever out on my own on that night I make a point of staying away from that road.’
The girls exchange worried glances, sit back in their seats and go very quiet. Scotty is beginning to wish he had kept his mouth shut but he’s always enjoyed a good ghost story. He switches the radio on and the girls exchange pained glances as yet another Country and Western dirge twangs out amidst the hiss and crackle, but at least it means they no longer have to try making polite conversation.
Scotty turns his attention back to what is happening on the road and signals for an overtaking lorry that it is safe to pull in front. His laden vehicle is struggling to keep going up the long drag of the hill and he keeps his right foot flat on the pedal, changing to low axle to keep the old rig crawling forward. At last they reach the top and the road levels enough to climb slowly back up the gearbox, easing the strain on the engine and on their ears. ‘I’ll drop you at the end of the road,’ says Scotty, ‘you should be able to get another lift from there.’ Sally nods her head and mumbles some kind of thanks. They gather their few belongings and prepare to get out into the cold wet night.
He pulls the rig onto the side of the road underneath a street lamp so the girls can be seen and wishes them good luck as they climb out. As he checks his mirrors before pulling away he is surprised that there is no sign of his passengers. He cranes his neck but can see nothing in the nearside mirror but the roadside bathed in lamplight. Where could they have gone, in the blink of an eye?
A shudder runs across his shoulders and he pulls his donkey jacket up around his neck, turns the radio up as loud as it will go and tries to sing along to the music. For some reason he feels it necessary to lean over and lock the door.
Only a few miles up the road and another hitchhiker is standing with her thumb out, a smile on her painted face and a duffle bag resting on her shoulder. Scotty changes down a gear and drives on by.