One Good Deed…

The day was fine and what made it even finer was Ethel Grayley had successfully passed her driving test! Oh, she had soared through the theory exam with flying colours and the practical test was just a stroll down ‘memory lane’. She had asked her sister Maud’s son Renton to show her what all the ‘bits’ were under the bonnet and she memorised where they were situated and what their purpose was. She had been so ready for the driving test after twenty lessons that with old Mr James, her instructor sitting alongside her, Ethel felt that she could have driven to the Moon! Actually wrongly or rightly, she had bought a car for herself before the test, which was how sure she felt about being able to pass! Oh, it wasn’t a very expensive car, in fact it was what is commonly called a ‘banger’, but it worked well and with four new tyres on it, Ethel felt that she would be floating on a cloud.

That was until today when Mr Froydd the postman had slipped a brown envelope through her letter box containing her driving licence. Now she could drive on her own through the country around Gaxminster, her home town, cover miles through the highways and byways and maybe stop for a cream tea at the little picturesque villages. But Mr James would not be there, giving her advice and tutting when she accidentally drove into a pothole; she would be completely on her own.

So, after making up some sandwiches and a flask of tea, Ethel walked out to her car, yes, her very own car! She could hardly believe it as she carefully unlocked, opened the car door and got into the driving seat.

First, she inserted the key and then she checked the gear stick was in neutral and after turning on the engine and releasing the brake, she was off! That was until she remembered that she hadn’t put on her seat belt, what would P.C. Crockatt make of that, if he saw her! Ethel shuddered to think.

The car was a dream to drive and as Ethel whisked through the country lanes she began to relax and enjoy the trip. She paid special attention to the road signs and slowed as she approached junctions.

A herd of cattle was being driven up the road by a young man and his dog. Ethel stopped and for a minute she was totally surrounded by mooing, sweaty cows whose long tongues drooled saliva over her shiny bodywork. Oh well, she thought, a trip to the car wash may be required tomorrow.

The large town of Ambrose was next on her tour and as she drove into the built up area she felt a frisson of fear. She had to watch for children coming out from behind parked cars or ladies pushing prams. Oh dear, the country lanes are so much easier she thought, as she dropped gear in expectation of an approaching zebra crossing.

Near the centre of Ambrose was a traffic light controlled crossing and as Ethel approached it she was glad to see the lights at green. She touched the accelerator pedal with her toe and began to cross when, the car came to a sudden stop! Ethel turned the key to restart the engine but it just did not want to start and after several attempts and achieving nothing she began to be conscious of the sound of horns blowing. She tried once again with no luck, then as she was about to open the door a couple of young men ran up and after telling her to release her handbrake, pushed her off the crossing and onto the side of the street. Ethel was so grateful she got out to offer the men a financial reward or her thanks at least, but the good Samaritans had vanished as quickly as they had appeared and rather disappointed, Ethel got back into her car. Upon turning the ignition key the engine sprang into life and once again she was mobile.

That night as she lay in bed awaiting sleep, her mind went back to her day’s car journey. After Ambrose she had driven to Fordon and then onto Whipsney where she had stopped for a cup of tea and a scone with strawberry jam. The café was a lovely rustic type with a thatched roof and climbing roses around the door. The birds were singing in the trees and a light breeze tickled Ethel’s hair. The sky was a light blue and wispy clouds moved slowly over it like galleons on the sea. 

Then she remembered her unpleasant incident in Ambrose. What could have happened with the car? It was working alright up to the crossing and started no problem afterwards, but on the crossing the engine had just refused to start. Oh well, Ethel thought, she would have to expect these little mishaps if she was a car driver. She rolled over on her side and closed her eyes as sleep overtook her.

She was back driving in Ambrose town. She recognised the little houses with red coloured tile roofs and black tall chimneys and the church with the crooked steeple. She instinctively knew that around the next bend was the crossing where her car had stopped. In her dream state, she wondered if the incident would be repeated. The lights were green as before and Ethel again touched the pedal and the car raced towards the crossing, but suddenly there was someone on the road crossing and as Ethel fumbled with the foot brake in an attempt to stop the car, it just sped up and, oh horrors, hit the person and sent the figure tumbling over the car!

Ethel woke with a shriek and it took her a few minutes to realise that it had only been a nightmare. Oh dear, she thought, it was so real! She couldn’t remember whether the person she had struck was a man or a woman, but in her heart of hearts she instinctively knew that it had been a woman!

When Ethel woke in the morning after a restless sleep, she still remembered the dream and cringed inwardly as she recalled the moment of striking the person. Why had she dreamt it? Upon stalling her car at that crossing in Ambrose, she had set up a sort of paranoid fear within her mind.

Well, Ethel thought, giving herself a mental shake, I will return to Ambrose and drive across the crossing and I bet nothing untoward happens. She experienced a tiny frisson of fear, but shrugged it off with a laugh.

“I really think that you should get a garage to look at your engine,” said the tall policeman. “There is obviously something wrong with it. How long have you had the car?”

“I bought it three months ago, officer and since I started driving it I have had no problems…till now,” said Ethel, not wishing to tell him about yesterday’s similar incident.

Ethel had driven to Ambrose and this time had had to sit in a queue of cars at the crossroads awaiting the changing of the lights from stop to go. When they finally changed she had engaged the engine into first gear and after releasing the handbrake had given the accelerator pedal a small push and moved off over the crossing, then horror of horrors – the car stalled in the same spot as the previous day!

Hopefully, looking through the car windows for the good Samaritans of yesterday, Ethel was dismayed to see a policeman standing, watching her dilemma. As a cacophony of horns began to sound from behind Ethel, the officer of the law set off in her direction.

Initially he suggested she try switching on the engine again but as that was what she had been doing constantly since the engine stall, she did not hold out much hope in that direction.

Finally, the policeman commandeered some aid from a few male passerbys to push Ethel through the crossing and deposit her back at the same spot as yesterday.

After the policeman had given Ethel some advice about having her engine checked by a garage, Ethel turned the key and lo and behold – the engine started!

“I reckon us pushing the car must have cleaned some dirt out of the engine, but I would have it checked over anyway, madam. Goodbye and drive carefully,” the policeman said and with a wave he walked off leaving Ethel to slowly drive off.

When she arrived home, Ethel took the policeman’s suggestion and rang the garage where she had bought the car. She made an appointment for the following day to have a service carried out, although Mr Grant, the garage owner and whom she had bought the car off, insisted that the car had been running in ‘tip top’ condition when she had bought it.

That night her dreams returned her to Ambrose and as the day before, she was sitting in a queue at the lights waiting to approach her anathema, the centre of the crossing.

The lights changed and the line of cars before her began to move. A large gap appeared before Ethel’s car as her forward motion slowed. She was moving at a snail’s pace towards the crossing when she suddenly saw a figure standing in the centre of the road vehemently pointing down towards the road surface. Ethel’s car suddenly picked up speed and before she could brake, the car drove into the person and sent them flying.

Ethel woke screaming, her bedclothes had been thrown off and her body was saturated with sweat. Why was she having this precise dream? And why would her car refuse to cross that piece of road without stalling?

Next day, Ethel arrived at Mr Grant’s garage to have her car serviced and inspected. The owner invited her to sit in a small area that had been laid out with a television, newspapers and tea and coffee on tap, for customers to wait, while work was being carried out. Ethel selected a copy of the local paper and began reading about all the happenings in her area of the country.

After about an hour and a half, during which time Ethel had had two cups of coffee, read two magazines and the paper, Mr Grant appeared to tell her that her car was ready. Ethel followed him to the office to pay her bill and when she was there she asked if anything untoward had been found.

“Not a thing, Ms. Grayley,” said Mr Grant as he totted up the sums of money on the bill. “Everything was working perfectly.”

“Well, that was two days when the engine stalled and refused to start,” Ethel said in a hurt tone.

“Alright, I will give you a discount as it hasn’t been long since you took the car.”

“Thank you, but did the previous owner of the car have any problems?”

“Your car was previously owned by…hang on, just give me minute, “Mr Grant said turning to the garage’s reception desk where a large bosomed, blonde haired lady sat filing her nails. “ “Glenda, could you bring me the used car sale book, please?”

After consulting the ledger Mr Grant turned to Ethel. “Yes, I remember now, the car was owned previously by Mr Thompson. The poor old guy gave up driving after he had an accident.”

“What accident?” Ethel asked sharply.

“He knocked someone down in Ambrose,” replied Mr Grant. “Crumpled up the front of his car, but we managed to get the dent out.”

“What happened to the person he knocked down?”

“Oh, I think she died, didn’t she,” said Mr Grant turning to Glenda for confirmation.

“Yes Mr Grant, the poor woman was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.”

As Ethel drove away from the garage the sentence ‘pronounced dead at the scene of the accident’ played over and over in her mind. She had asked Mr Grant and Glenda where and when the accident had occurred, but both were unsure of the date and location, so she decided to visit the local library. They would have old newspapers available.

The Gaxminster local library was a lovely old building created in the form of a castle with two turrets and the walls sported crenulations. The stonework was in very good condition and glowed a rosy red in the afternoon sunshine.

“Do you have old newspapers that I can look at?” Ethel asked one of the library assistants.

“Through that door and on your right,” replied a lady wearing a tweed suit and horn rimmed spectacles.”If you have any problems just come back and I will see if I can help.”

Ethel entered a spacious reading room and caught sight of a large pile of newspapers lying on a table. She put her handbag down on the table and began looking through them, first of all checking the headlines then skimming through the internal content.

Realising that the accident must have occurred some weeks ago she dug down into the pile and selected one that had been produced a month before.

It wasn’t until Ethel had just about exhausted all the newspapers that she spotted a headline that read ‘Ambrose car accident – victim dies’. Checking the date, Ethel saw that it had happened two and a half months before and as she read the article she felt as if a stream of ice cold water had run down her spine – it had been a woman, her name had been Agnes Hobbs, the same age as Ethel and she had been killed on the crossing at Ambrose!

That night Ethel hoped that now she knew about the accident that her sleep would be dreamless or at least free of nightmares. She read a silly romance novel until she felt her eyelids begin to close then she closed the book, put out her bedside light and prepared to sleep.

All at once Ethel found herself in her car following a queue of car towards the crossing in Ambrose. The car began to stutter and as the engine slowed the gap in front of her increased. Then she spotted the figure in the road, but rather than standing the person was crouching down and once again pointing down at the road. With a sickening crunch Ethel’s car hit the figure and once again it tumbled up and over the bonnet and roof of the car.

Ethel had had enough of this nightly torture, so getting out of bed; Ethel got dressed and getting into her car, drove off towards the town of Ambrose. It was about three o’clock in the morning and as she had hoped the streets were empty of traffic and pedestrians as she drove into the sleeping town. Soon the crossing appeared in the distance picked out by the street lamps. Ethel pulled to the side of the road as close as was safe and parked. Getting out of the car she made her way to a spot close to one of the traffic lights and after checking in all directions that nothing was coming, walked over to the centre of the road looking for anything unusual.

Ethel checked all over and found nothing, but as she was about to give up she saw something glinting on the road surface and upon kneeling down, saw that it was a gold coloured coin. She reached down and attempted to pick it up but was unable to do so, as the object was firmly embedded in the tar.

Returning to her car, Ethel selected a screwdriver from her toolbox and upon returning to where the coin lay, she levered it out of its matrix of tar. As she lifted the coin a broken chain appeared threaded through a metal loop on the coin.

Back in her car, Ethel switched on her overhead light and checked to see what the coin was. It depicted a person carrying a small figure on its shoulder across a stretch of what looked like, water. It was a Saint Christopher’s medallion.

Ethel carefully put the medallion down on her bedside table as she settled down to sleep, hoping that now having solved the mystery, she would be able to sleep undisturbed, but although not a nightmare, a dream was waiting for her as she fell asleep.

It was a sunny, bright day and the scent of flowers filled the air. Looking about her, Ethel saw that she was in a very tidy, well looked after cemetery and rather than exuding a melancholy atmosphere, there was a feeling of peace and tranquillity.

“Thank you for what you have done for me,” a voice sounded from behind Ethel and upon turning round, she saw a young woman standing there.”Have you brought it with you?”

Ethel knew instinctively that this was Agnes Hobbs who stood before her and reaching into her pocket drew out the gold medallion and handed it over to the woman who cradled it in the palm of her hand before affixing it back round her neck.

“Oh…I thought that the chain was broken,” said Ethel hesitantly.

“No, like myself, it has been restored,” Agnes said and gave Ethel a beautiful smile. “Thank you and until we meet again, have a happy life.” With that, the dream faded and Ethel woke up with tears in her eyes. Upon checking her bedside table, she saw that the medallion was no longer there.

Two weeks later, Ethel had to drive to Ambrose to collect a parcel from the post office. As she approached the town she wondered about Agnes. She hoped that the woman was now at peace and felt a warm sensation in her heart that she had helped someone, albeit a spirit.

There was a long queue at the infamous crossing and as Ethel pulled in behind the last car, rather than feeling worried, Ethel felt totally relaxed.

It took two traffic light changes before Ethel was up at the front of the queue waiting for the lights to change to green. As the colour changed, Ethel took her handbrake off and touched the accelerator…and the engine stalled! Frantically Ethel tried to restart the engine, but it just would not go. Then suddenly, there was a crash and large chunks of masonry began to rain down on the centre of the crossing, right where Ethel would have been had her car not stalled.

That night Ethel dreamt again of the serene cemetery and Agnes.

“Thank you,” said Ethel. “I know that you were responsible for saving my life today.”

Agnes smiled again and the dream began to lose colour until it completely faded away and Ethel slept like a baby.

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01/01/18

Cairniehill

Arbroath