Topless Gear

We were all getting a bit sick of each other’s company especially Mike and Ray who had started to argue about abstractions like whether we would ever go to war with China. At five past pissed out of our heads, we left the Dog and Frog. Mike, unaccustomed as he was to drinking as much alcohol as he had without counterbalancing it with three or four large spliffs, took two steps outside and Scotchguarded his suede boots. Before anyone noticed, he disappeared, presumably to wherever he lived.

“Right,” said Beth. Ray was hanging just off her shoulder swaying like a mannequin on one foot. I squinted through the darkness as he put a hand on her shoulder which she shrugged off almost immediately. “Go home Ray.” Perhaps Ray recognized something in her tone he had heard a hundred times before but he simply turned and walked off in the direction of the Underbelly without question.

“You’ve got him trained well.”

“Dog’s don’t take much training.” Beth hugged herself. Since learning of Trudie’s death, appearance had softened accordingly.

“You wanna talk?”

“Show me where you saw her.”

We stood on the centre of the white iron road bridge that spanned the dirty river. The bridge is wide enough for one vehicle and access to it is controlled by extremely lazy traffic lights at either end. Beth’s burning cold hand clamped mine like a claw. Standing next to me, hand in hand, it was only now that I realized how short she was. I spoke just to lighten the moment.

“You know, women have this control over their height that men simply don’t.”

“Yeah, but if everyone kept going up and down that would be plain silly. People would be saying stuff like ‘Ooh I like your new height, it’s very you.’” Beth was shivering and laughing.

“Good job we don’t have adjustable legs then.”

“Quite.”

“Just shoes.”

“Where was she?” Beth's tone changed to one of seriousness.

“Over there on the other bank.” I took my hand out of my pocket and pointed. “The tide is too high at the moment, you can’t see exactly.”

“How do you think she got there?”

“Thinking about it now, she was either washed here from downstream or she was simply thrown off this bridge.”

“Perhaps there is another option.” Beth started route-marching down the pavement to the other side of the bridge. Leading down to the other side of the bridge is a steep hill that circumnavigates the cliffs that line the river. The hill is so severe that the invisible council workers have fenced off a deep gravel pit adjacent to the bridge should someone’s brakes fail. Unfortunately this run-off area still borders the river’s edge only protected by a thin metal fence and locals have taken to parking their cars in there, just to make sure of its uselessness.

“Look, that’s her car.” We crouched and peered into a damp smelling Japanese motorized shopping trolley. Its nose was pressed right up against the railings at the edge of the run off. The keys were in the ignition and it was plain that the car had been on when it had come to a halt.

“The windscreen’s smashed.” I looked back up the hill. “Beth, this could have been an accident.” I found myself querying the disappointment in my voice.

“An accident?”

“Yes, well of sorts. Imagine it. Trudie comes bombing down the hill, around the curve – we all do it – and then she realises that she has no brakes.”

“This is what I’ve never understood. Why make for the run off? Why not go straight over the bridge? The hump will slow you down.”

“If there was something coming over the bridge from the other direction, you wouldn’t have any option. So, she enters the run-off.”

“And stops.”

“Yes, stops apparently a bit too quickly and goes through the windscreen. And that’s where I saw her, where she landed.”

“Nice theory, just one question though, why was she naked?”

I walked Beth home and she gripped my hand all the way. We concentrated on our icy breath before us as we walked up the hill of the Underbelly.

“What was she really like, I mean Trudie, I never knew her?”

Beth stopped mid-stride and began to cry. I turned to face her.

“It’s weird really. I can’t say I really knew her, I mean we grew up together but what do I actually know about her? What could I tell you right now about my sister Trudie?”

“I don’t know Beth.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Outside her door I let her hand go but tugged on her finger. “You gonna be OK?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. Can I have my dog back now?”

Lying in my own bed for the first time in what felt like a month, I thought about Trudie and her nakedness. Why would someone be in a car naked in the first place? I went through all the stupid reasons first.

1. Sudden and extreme allergy to clothes required urgent medical attention.
2. Poisoned bath incident.
3. Clothes stolen by naked hitchhiker.
4. Naked driving turned her on.

This was getting me nowhere. The logical explanation for anyone naked in a car is that they are running from someone or something. I corrected my own thought. Not running, escaping. The question was, from who?