The Hearse Driver.
The day wasn’t a
good one for a funeral. The sky was too blue and the sun was too warm. The birds
sang and the smell of freshly cut grass enlivened the senses.
The man had only just
got the hearse ready in time; he’d had a heavy night and he wasn’t a morning
person anyway. Now he stood discreetly back from the mourners. His role would
soon be over, but until it was, he would play his part. The sun soaked the back
of his bronzed neck as an unseen smile broke the grim set of his face. He subtly
brushed a rogue lock of dark hair out of his eyes and remembered how it had been
last night when he had sunk his tongue into Angela’s demanding mouth.
Beside the grave the
old man stood as straight as it was possible to stand, and his face gave no hint
of grief as they lowered the polished oak coffin into the gaping hole. A short
blonde woman, probably in her forties allowed a brief sob to escape before
reining in the galloping grief and bringing her emotions to a more dignified
trot. The driver noticed her legs. Nice shape, he thought. Not bad for her age.
For a moment he
thought about the old lady who had just been deposited at the bottom of the pit.
What did she look like inside that wooden box? If it had been a glass coffin,
would he have been able to see her lying white and lifeless like a porcelain
doll with wrinkles? Her husband stood like a cardboard cut-out. The younger
woman - perhaps she was their daughter, had moved closer and linked arms with
the older man.
The driver of the
hearse responded to the warmth of the sun in the way he had responded since
puberty, and thought about sex. Last night she’d called him Jack instead of
Jim. He hadn’t been sure if she’d been mentally making it with someone else,
but it hadn’t mattered at the time. Now that brief suspicion momentarily
quenched his lust. Did he know any Jacks? More to the point did she? But that
was one question he couldn’t answer, and did it really matter anyway?
The priest had
finished his graveside eulogy and the mourners were walking slowly to the
waiting cars. The blonde was wearing a fitted black suit and her hips swung
rhythmically as she walked away. The mid-day sun bounced off the body-work of
the leading car as it carried the chief mourners away. Jim’s job was finished.
There was no more work for today he could go home and confront Angela with his
suspicions. The engine of the hearse purred into action and in keeping with the
rules he drove sedately out of the cemetery. Outside the gates he picked up
speed steadily. It was a good straight road all the way back to base and the
heat from outside was intensified within the body of the vehicle. Even with the
window open a bead of sweat slid down the firm line of his jaw. He placed his
foot further down on the accelerator and felt the breeze strengthen as the
needle on the clock bounced towards eighty.
The image of
Angela’s slim white body flashed into his mind. White as alabaster. White as a
corpse. He wondered what her beautiful writhing body would look like cold and
lifeless in a padded satin box. What kind of coffin would suit her, mahogany,
elm, oak? Yes oak, like the old lady’s coffin. Rich and warm, full of sensuous
smooth curves, just like her. What would he do if she had been unfaithful to
him? What’s unfaithful anyway? How many women had he had on the go at any one
time in the past? He couldn’t remember. But Angela ...Angela was different.
Yes he’d looked at other women since he’d been with her. He’d mentally
made love to them, undressing them slowly with his eyes, imagining how they
would respond to his expert technique. But not once since Angela had he laid one
finger on another woman.
The traffic thinned
as he left the outskirts of the town. The road ribboned ahead of him slicing
through the green patchwork of fields. The speed was exhilarating and he knew
the road well. The excitement of driving at high speed eased his frustration. He
knew that by the time he arrived home he would be able to talk rationally with
Angela, and was sure that all would be resolved. He geared down rapidly to take
the sharp bend at the foot of the hill, as he swung the bulky hearse into the
corner the hearse started to slide. Before he knew it he was on the wrong side
of the road heading into the path of a double-decker bus.
Angela looked at
Jim’s body through the glass window of the mortuary viewing room. He looked so
perfect. Too perfect to be lifeless. There was no hint of the horrific injuries
he had sustained. He looked very serious, as if all the woes of the world had
descended on his shoulders, perhaps they had. She nodded her head and turned
away wiping a single tear from her eye. The attendant led her along the cool
green corridor and through the double doors, where Jack was waiting with arms
outstretched to comfort her.