A Very Bad Virgin

By Bernard Veale

Rhett James Harding wakes up in a small clinic, without his memory.
As he struggles to recover some recall, he discovers that the small town he is in holds many secrets. The first thing he has to discover is his own name and after that he needs to know why he is in the town at all.
As he discovers these things while dating as many of the attractive girls in town as he can find, he also encounters the evil deacon of the Church of Our Lady of Sophia. His enquiries uncover that the church is not a Catholic church as it sounds to be and Our Lady is the Black Virgin while Sophia is an ancient name of the goddess of Wisdom. After those unexpected translations he is hardly surprised when he discovers that the church worships Lucifer and that he had unknowingly narrowly escaped being sacrificed to the Fallen Angel.
Handicapped by his lack of memory he pieces together the history of the town and ultimately comes to the point where he has to, almost reluctantly; uncover the identity of the Black Virgin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Authors
• Release date: May 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781849897983

Book preview

race.

Chapter 1

His first clear memory was of a monster in a bulky sweater holding his eyelid up while probing his seared eyeball with an over-bright flashlight.

He’s coming around. Dump him on that bed over there. The monster instructed.

He has been awake ever since we found him but I think he is still drunk. He reeks of booze. A much more masculine voice replied.

That’s nothing unusual around here. The monster with the female voice and outsize spectacles commented.

He tried opening the closed eye. It worked better since it did not have a bright light shining into it.

He saw three people standing around him and a hint of other presences in the background.

Where am I? He said predictably.

You’re on a bed and halfway back to being sober. The monster said briskly.

Go back to sleep. We will talk once you have recovered enough.

I am not drunk. He assured them. I don’t drink.

There was sarcastic laughter from the background population.

That is what everyone who comes in here says. The monster assured him. Go to sleep and I will look in on you later.

She said it with that I-brook-no-nonsense tone, so he turned away from the audience and made as if he was settling down to return to the land of Orpheus.

He heard the masculine voice say as it faded into the distance:

We found him staggering around on the highway. I thought at first that he might have been hit by a car but one whiff of the booze put me right. Even his clothes reek of the stuff. You’d think he had taken a bath in it.

Don’t worry about him, Dan. A good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast will probably put him right. What is his name?

I don’t know. He doesn’t have any I.D. on him, in fact, he doesn’t have anything on him except a few dollars and change. If you hadn’t been able to take him, I would have had to throw him into a cell until he sobered up.

After that the voices moved out of range of his hearing, which was not at its best due to a persistent buzzing in his ears. He fell asleep almost immediately even though he remembered thinking that he should get out of that place if only his head would stay on his shoulders.

When he awoke he was in silent darkness. He struggled to work out where he was and failed. Then he struggled to work out who he was and also failed.

He tried to think back but his earliest memory seemed to be that of the monster peering into his eye with the aid of a small flashlight.

He got out of bed and felt his way toward a faint glimmer of light. It turned out to be a doorway opening into a passageway at the far end of which a crack of light shone through an almost closed door.

He made his way toward the light, experiencing a feeling of unreality and staggering more often than walking.

The light opened into a male toilet complete with ten stalls and a long tiled urinal wall. There were also two hand basins underneath a fly-spotted mirror.

He moved to the mirror and inspected the total stranger that he met there.

The man in the mirror was moderately tall with over-long shaggy brown hair, blood-shot gray eyes, straight well-cared for teeth and a straight, if bruised, nose.

The chin was covered in unshaven bristles and the overall effect was someone that could do with a good scrubbing in near-boiling water.

The clothes were not much better: rumpled, although that could have something to do with the fact that he had just slept in them, smeared, stained and dusty.

A short-sleeved blue (?) golf shirt and fitted blue jeans, no socks and a grubby pair of running shoes were all that he possessed except for one other very strange addition.

Hidden under the aforesaid golf shirt was a leather belt. Not old, scratched or grubby but good broad leather, unpolished and dull it is true, but much too good to be worn by that stranger in the mirror.

Now how the hell did he know that?

He could not recall his own name but he knew that the belt was too good for that mirror-person.

He stepped into one of the cubicles and locked the door and dropped his jeans where he found a very respectable pair of under-shorts; not old, dirty and grubby but fresh and clean. The mystery deepened.

The under-shorts bore no manufacturers label, the golf shirt likewise and the jeans were manufactured by one of the most widely-used brands on the market (and how did he know that?) as were the running shoes.

He turned the belt over and over before he realized that it was a reversible belt. You unclipped the belt buckle, turned the belt over and re-clipped the buckle back on and you changed from a broad black leather belt to a broad brown leather belt.

He was still experimenting with this marvel of human ingenuity when he noticed a tiny protrusion from the leather sandwich at the clip-on end of the belt. He pinched at it with the dirt-filled nails of his index finger and thumb and he pulled forth a sheet of paper.

This was not any old piece of paper. This was a hundred dollar bill.

He flexed the belt leather further down its length and established the likelihood of additional bills, probably another four in the belt.

He reinserted the first bill into the belt and dressed himself again.

He felt a great feeling of relief to discover that he was not the down-and-out that everybody believed him to be. Then despair overtook him once more, maybe he was something worse than a down-and-out. What sort of person carries no wallet or personal identification but loads five hundred dollars into his belt?

There was a knock on the door leading into the facility.

He recognized the monster’s voice.

Is there anyone in there?

Yes ,ma’am. He said, pulling his clothes on as quickly as possible and then stepping out of the cubicle.

He saw a mass of tangled dark hair and a large pair of spectacles behind which was an indistinct face peering around the door.

What are you doing up? It’s three in the morning.

I didn’t know where I was and this was the only light burning. He said defensively.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you to flush the toilet when you have finished using it?

Then she added as an afterthought: And wash your hands. At least part of you would be clean.

I didn’t use the toilet. I was just checking out my clothes. I’m not a bum. He assured her.

If you are not a bum, who are you? she asked bluntly.

Er, I don’t know. I can’t remember.

Now that’s an answer that doesn’t fill me with confidence that you are not a bum. Your eyes are bloodshot and you came in here smelling of whisky and staggering all over the place. That makes you a bum in my book.

The guy that brought me in said that he thought that I might have been hit by a car.

If you were hit by a motor vehicle, it must have been a whisky truck. I can smell the stuff from here.

I can’t explain it but I know that I am not a drunk.

We’ll see about that. Go back to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning.

I’d like to but it was so dark when I came out that I don’t know where the bed is.

Follow me, I’ll show you where to go.

Sure thing, ma’am. Oh, by the way, what is your name?

Doctor Natasha Reficulo to you, Bud. She said somewhat defensively.

He knew that she was telling him the truth.

What sort of doctor are you, Doctor?

Medical. I am also the director of this place.

Again, something in his head said that she was telling him the truth.

What is this place?

Reficulo Home for Derelicts. We’re modeled on the Salvation Army homes.

His head kept affirming that this was the truth.

Did you start this yourself?

No, my parents did. In those days it was mainly a religious home but now I guess it’s mainly medical. You know, you sound like an educated man. What led you to turn to drink?

Doc, I keep telling you that I don’t believe that I am an alcoholic. I don’t know why I was soaked in whiskey but I am pretty sure that I was not drinking it.

Yeah, a likely story! And you got those blood shot eyes how?

I don’t know but when I do find out I’ll let you know.

There’s your bed. Now get back into it and stay there until you hear the get-up bell.

No problem, doc. What time is that likely to be?

Six a.m. She strode away back to her own bed.

Chapter 2

On the following morning he woke up feeling a lot better than he had the night before.

He still had the dull ache in his head and he still could remember nothing before Natasha Reficulo had shone the light into his eyes, but at least he felt halfway human again.

He realized that it was the loud insistent ringing of a bell that had woken him up and that relieved him because he was beginning to think that he had also developed a ringing in his ears.

He headed for the bathroom where, after relieving himself, he washed his face and hands and flushed his dry mouth out with tap-water. He looked at himself in the mirror again. He did not look any better than he had the night before. He re-wet his hands and smoothed down his unruly hair. He looked marginally better.

He left the bathroom and saw a line of men, not much different-looking to himself waiting to get into a room from which a high-babble of sound was issuing. He took this to be the dining hall and he was not wrong.

He joined the queue and found it led to scruffy-looking gray-bearded little man who was doling out grits and coarse brown bread. Further down the line a large urn allowed each man to draw a cup of weak black coffee.

He was hungry so he drew his ration and sat down at one of the long tables where others were already chewing at their unappetizing repast.

Hi, you gotta be new here. Ain’t seen you here afore. His sun-burnt tousle-headed neighbor commented.

Yes, I came in last night.

Yeah? I’m Jack Watson. The sun-burnt one put out a very brown hand.

Something in the newcomer’s head said that he was lying.

Pleased to meet you Jack. I’d tell you my name but I don’t know it. I seem to have lost my memory.

Yeah? There’s a lot of that about. Do what I did, just think of a name that will do and tell people that’s who you are. In the long run, nobody gives a damn.

Okay, in that case, I’m Jim Blank.

Yeah? Pleased to meetcha Jim. Pass the peanut butter willya?

Halfway through his slice of peanut buttered bread, Dr Natasha Reficulo entered the room.

There was instant silence and many of the men stood up to greet her.

Jim Blank looked over his shoulder and was surprised to find that she was not anything like the monster that he remembered from the night before.

She was slim and attractive and her dark curly hair was neatly tied back with a short ribbon. She must have had contact lenses because she was no longer wearing the large spectacles that she had worn at three in the morning. Her eyes were large and of a deep violet shade.

Good morning, gentlemen! she called out.

The voice in his head said that she was lying.

The clinic will open a little later this morning because I have to go to town to pick up some medical supplies.

Again the voice said she was lying.

He stood up and followed her out of the room.

Excuse me, Dr Reficulo.

She turned and looked at him.

Oh, you’re the new man who doesn’t know his name.

I think I know how I can find out my name. He told her. Would you be so kind as to allow me to come into town with you?

Sure thing but you’ll have to ride in back of my truck.

Thanks, that’ll do fine. Until I do know my name, I’m using Jim Blank as a temporary handle.

Okay, so I get to call you Jim, but understand this Jim, if this is a ruse to get you into town so that you can get your hands on more whisky, don’t come back here. I am prepared to help any man that wants to put his life straight but I have rammed my head against too many brick walls to waste my time on those that don’t even want to try. Are you clear about that?

Doc, you don’t have to worry anymore on two counts. The first count is that I am not and have never been an alcoholic. The second is that I won’t be coming back here in any event.

Good! The culmination of my work is when one of my patients leaves my clinic and never needs to return.

The voice told him that she was lying again. It was puzzling because he knew that she believed what she was saying. Then it came to him. The lie was in the first word.

She climbed into the cab of the truck and he was just about to heave himself in the back when she stuck her head out of the window and called, Jim, come and sit up front.

He moved around and climbed into the cab.

Thanks, what changed your mind?

You don’t stink so much of whisky today. I guess I can tolerate your smell in exchange for someone intelligent to talk to.

She drove in silence for a while then said, How are you planning to find out what your real name is?

I thought that I would ask the police to check out my fingerprints. If I am on record I will learn who I am and if I am not, I will have the comfort of knowing that I am a decent person.

Oh? That’s good thinking. I’ll take you to Dan Flaherty. He’s the Deputy that brought you in. He’s a good guy. I’m sure that he will help you.

The voice said that she was telling the truth.

I guess that he brought me to you as an excuse to see you again. Jim remarked.

She blushed.

I suppose that he is rather stuck on me. I like him fine but I don’t feel any chemistry there.

Surely, a woman as attractive as you are would be married by now? he dared to say.

She did not take the stand-offish line with him but said seriously, I was engaged once, while I was an intern, but I caught him with a nurse. I haven’t had much time for romance since then.

I guess working at the clinic doesn’t give you much chance to meet the best of men.

She laughed ruefully, I’d say that was about right. Don is the only decent man I’ve had much contact with since my parents died.

You make it sound as if they died together?

They did. It was a motor accident. They were doing what we are doing: going to town for supplies.

It must have been hard for you to continue at the clinic after that?

Strange as it may seem it was easier after that. My father left me some sizable insurance policies. We had always struggled to find sponsorships for the clinic but with the proceeds from the policies I have been able to have a regular income, pay off the mortgage and keep the doors open. I also serve as the county part-time medical examiner so I make ends meet, usually.

Your clinic is quite a long way from town. The trip was much longer than he had anticipated.

Yes, my father believed in removing the patients far from temptation. He was also fond of the country life. Part of the therapy that we offer to the patients, is vegetable gardening and we thereby produce a lot of our own food. It helps to keep the clinic viable.

She looked down at his hands.

Your hands don’t look as if they have ever done any gardening. Your nails are relatively clean and your hands are slender and supple. They are one of the reasons why I thought that you might be an alcoholic but I knew that you weren’t a bum.

He laughed depreciatingly, I don’t know my own name but I do know that I am no gardener.

What do you think you are?

I don’t know but I have a good feeling that today I am going to find out. I am praying that it isn’t anything bad.

She looked at him, thinking that if he cleaned up he would be very good-looking.

I can lend you a few bucks if you want to buy some soap and a razor. She told him.

Thanks, but I am not short of money.

What? But Dan said you only had a few dollars and change on you.

That’s because he didn’t know about the five hundred dollars that I had in my belt.

Five hundred? Well, that means that you certainly are no bum.

Right, but it also worries me. Why would I be carrying five hundred in my belt but no wallet or identification? It doesn’t seem normal. Also I don’t have a wristwatch but the indentation on my left wrist shows that I habitually wear one.

Okay, good thinking! Also you don’t wear any rings but there is no indentation showing that you normally do.

He was pleased that she noticed that. It meant that she had checked to see if he was married.

I wasn’t wearing any socks. I don’t know why I know this, but that is unusual for me. I feel uncomfortable without them.

I guess that means that you were not very far from home when you were found. You went out without wallet, wristwatch or socks. You could not have expected to go far.

So that means that I must ask Dan exactly where he found me. I also need to know whether I was wandering around or lying down when he found me.

You don’t have concussion but you did take a blow to your head and your memory has been impaired. Maybe you were attacked. You could have been robbed of your wallet and wristwatch.

Why would they take my socks? My belt is a particularly good one surely they would have taken that rather than my socks? Then there is the few dollars and change, why not take that if you are going steal socks?

I guess you are right. It is more likely that you were knocked down by a car than robbed.

They were coming to the outskirts of town and traffic was getting thicker. Natasha stopped talking while she concentrated on getting through a very congested area.

She took him straight to the sheriff’s office and went with him to see Dan the deputy.

Dan was clearly happy to see her but was not pleased about Jim being with her.

Dan, she said, we still do not know his correct name but for now we’re calling him Jim. Can you remember exactly where you found him? Also, we would like to know whether he was walking or lying down when you found him?

Yeah, I remember where I found him. It was a mile or so after the 10 mile truck stop. It was in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing anywhere around because I looked. He was standing when I found him. But I think he had just risen to his feet as I approached.

Could he have walked there from the truck stop?

I kind of doubt it. As you know, he smelt like a distillery and was staggering all over the place.

Deputy, could you please check my fingerprints? Jim asked politely.

Dan raised one eyebrow, Landsakes! That is the first time that anyone ever asked me that!

Natasha said, Jim is trying to find out who he is. He seems to have amnesia. He feels that if his fingerprints are on record at least he will know who he is.

What is he going to do if he is a wanted man? The deputy asked pointedly.

I am prepared to take that risk. Jim replied firmly.

Be it on your head, bud. Just understand I ain’t going cut you no slack just because you claim to have amnesia.

He walked over to an ink pad on his desk, come over here. He inked Jim’s fingers and imprinted them on a pad.

I just gotta scan these into the computer. Natasha, why don’t you go off and collect your supplies? This’ll take a few minutes.

There are some things that I had to pick up, deputy. Do you mind if I go with Natasha and return in a few minutes?

What? Are you already planning to make your getaway?

Oh Dan don’t be silly! Jim needs to buy himself some soap and a razor. I guarantee he will be back.

Okay Natasha, I am relying on you to bring this guy back. I have been a deputy for a long time now and I’m willing to bet you that this guy has some form.

I’ll take that bet Dan. Ten dollars do you?

This is the deal Natasha. You win, you get ten dollars. I win you give me a date.

Okay Don, but in the unlikely event that you win, the date has to be on a day of my choosing.

Ah, so you ain’t so sure now. Dan said triumphantly.

No Dan, I’m betting that are wrong but there are certain days that I can’t accept dates on so I just want to make clear upfront. Come on Jim let’s go.

The general store was not far from the sheriff’s office and it took them only a few minutes to get there.

Natasha was obviously very well liked in the town, people called out and greeted her wherever she went.

Many of them raised their eyebrows at the sight of Jim, in his unkempt state, keeping her company.

She went over to the supply side of the store while Jim made his selection of soap, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste and comb.

When he offered his hundred dollar bill the store clerk was unable to find sufficient change.

Jim called to Natasha. How much are your purchases going to amount to?

They should be just under eighty dollars. She replied.

I’ll pay for the doctor’s purchases. He told the clerk.

The clerk looked surprised but added the purchases together and gave him change. Jim could see him, with a scandalized look on his face, talking to one of the female customers and casting looks in his direction.

He helped Natasha to carry her purchases to her car and then followed her back to the sheriff’s office.

Dan pretended that he had not yet seen the results of the search on Jim’s fingerprints. He made a show of going to the computer and checking the output.

I guess this guy is okay. I can’t find anything against him.

So where’s my ten dollars? Natasha asked jokingly.

Very reluctantly Dan pulled out the bill which he had already placed in his pocket and handed it to her. She would not take it.

I don’t need your money Dan. I was just trying to show confidence in Jim. He really does have amnesia and I would like to help him.

Dan was happy that he had saved his ten dollars but he was not happy about Jim being around Natasha.

I haven’t checked any other database apart from the criminal one. When I get the chance I’ll have a look in other databases.

Natasha led the way back to the car.

Well it must be a relief to know that you are not a criminal.

Yes it is but I still don’t know who I am. Maybe I should go to the truck stop. Somebody there may be able to recognize me.

You are right, but a truck-stop in an unlikely place to leave your wallet, wristwatch and socks. We should really find out if there is a motel along that route. I should have asked Dan. He would have known.

They drove some time in silence before Natasha said, Do you still not remember anything? Have you no memories popping up in your head?

Not a thing. The earliest thing I can remember is you treating me when I arrived at your clinic. The rest is just a blank; even though I can still speak English I have no idea how I learnt it.

She drove past the clinic and continued some way along the road until they reach the truck stop.

She pulled in front of the diner and they both got out of the car.

He walked ahead of her and into the diner.

Good morning to you, he said to the waitress as she walked by, do you recognize me at all?

The waitress was young and attractive. She stopped and took a long look at him.

Yeah, you’re the guy that wants black coffee with no sugar.

Heck, am I the only guy that wants that?

No, but you are the only one that doesn’t look like a trucker.

Can you recall when I last came by here?

Of course I can recall; it was only yesterday.

Was I with anybody?

"Hell, it was only