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The following post was written for a creative writing group I attended briefly.  The task was to write a monologue under the theme of ‘A Hint of Hampshire’.  I’ve always been fascinated by Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in Britain, and she lived briefly in my home town of Basingstoke.  This week there was a three part documentary about her on BBC4 which I haven’t actually watched yet; but I will.

 

 

I step out of the gloom of the doorway and into the softly illuminated glow under the streetlight.

‘Hello David’ I say coolly and then when he ignores me and keeps on walking I shout his name.

‘David!’

He walks on, I assume towards his car.

Calmly I pull out the revolver from the depths of my handbag.

I pull the trigger, damn it, I miss him and he breaks into a run.  I follow and pursue him round the car.

I fire again, more successfully this time, and bring him down onto the pavement.

I stand over him and fire three more shots.

Feelings of euphoria and elation flood my body.  He can’t hurt me now.

My hands are shaking and my fingers can’t find the trigger.  Confused I end up firing into the floor where the bullet flies off in the direction of the Magdala pub.

I hear screams.

I turn to address David’s friend:

‘Will you call the police, Clive?’ I urge.

Within moments it seems that police are already there.  A policeman takes the still warm gun from my trembling hands and puts it in his coat pocket.

I turn to him and smile weakly:

‘I am guilty, I’m a little confused’ I say.

He says nothing as he pushes me into the back of the police car.

*****

It’s June.  The last two months have been somewhat of a blur.  I am not considered unstable and that has been proven.   That’s what they’d prefer to think, you see, that would make this a whole lot easier.

I dress carefully on the morning of the trial.  I select a black suit and a new white silk blouse.  I’ve had my hair done especially the day before.  It’s dyed blonde and that seems to cause the lawyers a few concerns.  Not sure why, I think it suits me this way.

So, the counsel for the prosecution says to me:

‘When you fired the revolver at close range into the body of David Blakely, what did you intend to do?’

It seems such a stupid question.  Is this a joke?  Do they still think I am mentally infirm?

I fix my gaze on Judge Humphreys and tell him:

‘It’s obvious.  When I shot him I intended to kill him.’

There are gasps and murmurs in the court room but I can’t make out any words as the blood seems to be pounding in my head.  The same euphoric, free feelings I experienced when I pulled the trigger have returned.

I’m in the dock still feeling calm and relaxed when they sentence me to death.

I’m lead away as the courtroom is still reverberating, off to Holloway it is.

*****

Its four weeks later when Warder Evelyn Galilee appears at the cell.  She’s carrying the regulation padded knickers.

Galilee propels me to the lavatory and sighs:

‘I’m sorry Ruth, but I’ve got to do this.’

I nod and smile at her, complicitly.

‘Would you pull these tapes Evelyn? I’ll pull the others.’

I take off my glasses and place them on the table.

‘I won’t be needing these anymore’ I say to her.

She nods and takes them away.

I’m back in my cell, waiting.

The Bishops arrives and he seems nice.  We talk for a bit and I force myself to think about what happened with David and why I’m here.  In the last few weeks the euphoria has faded and been replaced with a numb, disassociated feeling.

I look at the Bishop and his open, warm face.  I lean closer to him.

‘it is quite clear to me  that I was not the person who shot him. When I saw myself with the revolver I knew I was another person’ I tell him.

And then it’s time.

I follow the two men when they come for me.

And then darkness.

Yet freedom.