Garage

"What do you intend to do, Giles?"

"I hope to have about fifty men, some with shotguns. I have a reasonable relationship with the majority of travellers on the site. Some work on my farm full time; some as seasonal fruit pickers. But the Reeds and Reynolds are just criminals, despised by the others, even if none of the travellers will cooperate with the Police. I intend to give them the scrap metal because two of the men on site are licensed and legitimate scrap metal dealers, as a bribe to let us deal with the Reeds and Reynolds."

"And then what?"

"I will speak to the matriarch, and I hope to persuade her to let us have the harvester with no trouble. If not? Fifty men should be enough. When I have the harvester back, we are going to clear up all the rubbish around their caravans which is a breeding ground for rats. We have ratting dogs and shotguns. I'll load all the rubbish into a large dumpster and take it to my licensed rubbish tip on my farm. That should be better living conditions for the Reeds and Reynolds and get rid of rats which have been eating my crops."

"OK, Giles. I'll make a few phone calls and I'll be there with my wrecker in about three-quarters of an hour."

It took slightly longer than that. I took Angela back to my house and showed her how to operate the CCTV in the panic rooms.

Before I left, Angela asked:

"John, why is Mary your ex?"

"We agreed to part, amicably. Although we are both keen on karate, we have probably reached our limits without becoming professionals. But our other interests don't match. When Angela was young she was the star pupil at her ballet class and hoped to become a ballerina. But by the age of 12 she was already too tall for most adult male ballet stars and she kept growing. Now at six feet and built like a tank, she could never be a ballerina. But she still loves ballet. I don't mind it and would be prepared to go to three or four performances a year. Mary wanted three or four a month. That was too much for me, and far too much for my finances before I inherited."

"So what will Mary do now?"

"We broke up about nine months ago. Her new boyfriend is a ballet dancer. He looks tiny beside her. He isn't. He's five feet ten inches, but small framed and muscular. But Mary is taller, twice his width and more than twice his weight. But they're in love and I'm happy for her."

"So Mary is happy and you?"

"I seem to have Angela and I'm happy with her."

Angela kissed me and pushed me out the front dorr.

About an hour after my call to Giles I arrived with my wrecker and five mates in their karate gear. There were nearly a dozen tractors in the lane and about twenty cars. They had left a space down the middle. Giles showed me the old road roller. I picked it up as some of the tractors dragged ancient rusty farm machinery across the site entrance, blocking it completely. I put the road roller on top. Without a heavy-duty crane (or my wrecker) the obstacles couldn't be moved. I joined Giles who was talking to Adrian Starling, the head of the other travellers' families, who were not Reeds or Reynolds.

"Hello John." Mr Starling said. "Why the road roller?"

"It was my idea," Giles said. "The machinery and the road roller are gifts to your sons who are metal dealers, The roller should weigh in for a few hundred pounds."

"I'm sure it would, but we can't move it."

"I can," I said. I can load it onto whatever vehicle you have got that can take the weight."

Mr Starling and Giles walked off towards the Reeds/Reynolds part of the estate while about fifty men stood by the barrier of scrap machinery. There were some curious youngsters around but not the threatening men we might have expected.

I could see the two men talking to Ruth, the grandmother who was the matriarch of the Reeds/Reynolds family. She looked at the assembled crowd of men and her shoulders dropped. She went into a caravan and handed some keys to Giles before she opened the doors of a large metal framed building.

Shortly afterwards Giles drove his harvester out of the building. I started to move the road roller and other scrap machinery out of the way, putting it on a spare piece of ground just inside the gates. When Giles and Mr Starling arrived, I was shown a flatbed truck on which I loaded the road roller. The fifty men moved forward followed by a JCB and a tractor with tipping trailer.

One of the farmers shouted:

"That's my fucking tractor!"

It was, inside the building. It had been stolen last week and another farmer found his JCB. Ruth reluctantly handed over the keys.

The men started to clear the mounds of festering rubbish around the Reed/Reynolds caravans, loading it with the JCB onto the trailer. As they did, hundreds of rats emerged to be chased by the terriers and blasted by shotguns. The other travellers joined in the hunt. Most, but not all, the rats were killed and the trailer was filled. I knew Giles had a licensed rubbish tip, a former quarry on his land.

An hour later the area was completely clear of rubbish, even the dead rats, despite Ruth's protests that some 'good stuff' was being taken away. Giles warned her that if any more farm machinery was stolen, he and his friends would be back and they might not be so gentle next time, implying that the shed and some caravans might 'accidently' be destroyed by JCB. The access road was covered by Giles' CCTV so he would see any stolen equipment brought on site. With five of her men in jail pending trial, she didn't have enough men to object. Mr Starling was pleased that a revolting smell and rat infestation had gone. He too warned Ruth that unless her family stayed to legitimate pursuits, the previous reluctance to inform the police would no longer apply. She swore at him but went back into her caravan.

I used my wrecker to deposit the ancient farm machinery where Adrian wanted it. Then we all left for refreshments at Giles' farmhouse.

We hoped, but weren't convinced, that the Reed/Reynolds family would stop stealing machinery from the local farms. They made thousands of pounds from each piece of equipment so their incentive was high, but would the thought of reprisals deter them? We weren't sure.

As I drove my wrecker back into the street where I lived I could see three old cars had just pulled up and two of Jason's relations had got out of each car. They headed for my house. When they saw me, they changed course and ran towards me. brandishing baseball bats and a shotgun. I put the wrecker in low gear and ran over all three cars, squashing them flat. A shotgun was fired at me but the wrecker was armoured with bulletproof glass. The shotgun pellets just scratched the fading paint on my driver's door. The driver and passenger door locked with a heavy iron bar so they couldn't be wrenched open from outside. The side glass was covered with a metal plate with a small view slit.

Jason's relations surrounded my wrecker, hitting it with baseball bats. I laughed. They wouldn't even scratch the paintwork which needed replacing anyway. I reversed back up the road and swung to block the cul de sac completely. Almost as soon as I did, four police cars arrived on blues and twos. I moved the wrecker to let them through.

The six men were arrested. The police asked me if I could identify the drivers. I couldn't. They had been out of the cars when I arrived. My house CCTV and that of my neighbours showed exactly who was driving each car. All were banned drivers. The cars were not registered, not insured and had no MOT certificates. They would have been confiscated and crushed except that I had crushed them already. When the police recovery vehicle arrived I had to use my crane to load them as there was no way they would move otherwise.

The police told me off for crushing the cars. I could have been prosecuted for criminal damage even though the police would now crush the remains.

"They were trying to kill me, or at least to injure me," I objected. "I didn't drive at them only their unroadworthy cars."

None of the six men had been wearing gloves or face coverings. Eventually the police, from fingerprints, were able to associate the baseball bats with each user. I had pointed out that the shotgun had been thrown into the garden of number 20.

The men were charged with possession and use of offensive weapons, and discharged on bail until the fingerprint evidence had been assessed.

Angela had been in the upstairs safe room and had seen on CCTV the arrival of the men and the subsequent events. She had been moving the single beds together. She had decided I needed rewarding for looking after her. She had been worried for me when the shotgun was fired. I told her:

"Angela, a shotgun was useless. The wrecker has three-quarter inch thick armour plate and shotgun pellets would not even have scarred the bullet proof glass. A rifle round a short range might cause a crack but going through it would need much more than that."

I couldn't say much more because Angela was all over me, hugging, kissing and even her hand checked my erection.

"Come on, John, to the bedroom. I want to say thanks for saving me again."

"Were they after you? I don't think they knew you were there. They tried to attack my house and me."

"Whatever. Strip!"

Angela rode me because she thought I was too heavy to be on top.

+++

For the next few days, Angela's grandfather drove her to work. I, as usual, rode my bicycle. It was only a mile to my office and town centre parking was scarce and expensive. I walked to the Karate club, only 300 hundred yards but up a hill. In Mary's absence I was the instructor for the women's karate class. I didn't fight with them. I stayed on the sidelines and directed or advised. Angela decided to join too.

Again, her grandfather drove her to the class and collected her at the end, but she spent every night at my house. If I was out, shopping or for something else, Angela would be in a panic room until I returned. But nothing happened.

About two weeks later, with Jason's trial scheduled for a month's time, while cycling home from work I was knocked off my bike.

The car driver and I had been crossing with a green light when the car was hit at speed by a drunk motorist who ran the red light while being chased by the police. The impact pushed the car into me. I broke my right leg and was heavily bruised on my left leg and both arms. I had borrow a wheelchair from a neighbour but I couldn't propel myself.

Angela was worried that I couldn't protect her if Jason's relations came after her. But the cul-de-sac's residents were in a neighbourhood watch scheme. Any unusual cars were carefully watched. I went to and from work in her grandfather's car. Anywhere else? Angela wasn't heavy or strong enough to push me. The women's karate club members organised a rota to push me to wherever I wanted to go.

One of my neighbours had lent me a wheelchair, to be pushed by someone else. The bruising on my arms meant I couldn't use a self-propelled wheelchair. Angela's grandfather drove me to work. Angela could push the wheelchair into my office because the entrance was on a level with pavement. Once at work any of my colleagues would push me around and at the end of the day one of them pushed me out on to the pavement to be collected.

My accident had been written up in the local paper. The car thief had been remanded in custody for a long list of other offences and failure to attend court for some of them. But that meant everyone knew I was temporarily disabled. Angela was worried that Jason's family might try to attack me or her again.

Except for getting up the hill to the karate club, Angela and my neighbours could push me around on the flat. The women's karate club sent four members to push me up the hill, and to brake as I went downhill afterwards.

Before the first women's karate club meeting after the local paper report, the four karate club members were pushing me up the hill. Angela was walking beside us. A car pulled alongside with a squeal of brakes and two of Jason's cousins got out wielding baseball bats. Angela put the brakes on the wheelchair and stood behind it while she rang the police. The four karate women, not my best students, only at an intermediate level, intercepted the two men and proceeded to beat them up very efficiently.

I was very proud of the women's actions. By the time the police arrived the two men were whimpering heaps on the pavement, curled up into a foetal position to avoid being kicked again. They had to be taken to hospital before a police cell.

Eventually we arrived at the karate club, about a quarter of an hour late. Angela had taken a video of the men's beating and it was shared with the club's members, and later copied to the police. I was able to give a critique of what the women had done, and praised them for their prompt action. The women decided that for the next meetings the four women should be accompanied by two of the men, just in case larger numbers tried to attack me again. They didn't. Too many of that family were already in jail.

A week later, my arms were beginning to improve but I still had a plastered right leg. Giles rang.me. One of his neighbour's expensive tractors had been stolen last night and was recorded driving into the traveller's site at 4 am. Could I come with my wrecker again? I explained that I couldn't drive it with a plastered leg but would try to get someone else to drive it.

Although Angela had a driving licence, she wasn't capable of driving such a heavy machine. Although it had servo brakes, the steering was very heavy and intended for a fit young soldier to drive.

But my friend Alan, from the Karate club, had a WW2 half-track. He was insured on my wrecker, I was insured on his half-track. If Alan was available? The wrecker would be there.

He was. Angela and I rode in the cab while Alan drove. At the travellers' site, as before there were about fifty men, some with shotguns. Giles spoke to Mr Starling. M Starling had reported the arrival of the tractor to the police, but they couldn't come until tomorrow because of events elsewhere. There was no one in the Reed/Reynolds part of the site.

Alan drove my wrecker at the shed doors and burst them open. There was the tractor but without the keys. Giles and some friends borrowed club hammers and cold chisels from the wrecker's tool box and smashed the hinges off Ruth's caravan door. They keys were inside, next to the now useless shed keys. The tractor's owner drove his tractor away.

Giles had a conversation with Mr Starling who nodded. Alan was asked to destroy the shed so it couldn't be used to hide any more stolen vehicles. Alan enjoyed himself, and the watching men cheered, as the shed was reduced to a heap of mangled metal.

+++

I was enjoying being looked after by Angela. We were sleeping in the downstairs panic room because I couldn't get upstairs. Even though I was disabled, Angela felt safe in my house with the neighbours watching for any unusual people in the cul-de-sac. I felt almost as if we were married. Angela was doing everything for me, cooking, cleaning, moving me around the ground floor of the hose. I couldn't get upstairs yet. The neighbours understood that Angela would not want to go shopping on her own, so they either took her with them, or did our shopping for us.

Some of them wanted to clear my back garden, but for the first two weeks after the accident, it rained almost every day. By the time the rain stopped, I was out of the wheelchair, hobbling around on crutches or using a walking stick. The first sunny day the neighbours had arranged to come at ten am. I hobbled down the garden, unlocked the back gate and opened the garage to provide the tools. I had just picked up a fork when Jason appeared in the back lane holding a long Japanese sword.

I propped myself up in the garage doorway.

"Jason? What are you doing here? You have an injunction to stay away from this road."

"Maybe. But it doesn't cover this back lane. I've come to get at Angela."

"You have to get past me first."

"You? You have a broken leg. You won't stop me."

He raised the sword. As he brought it down I caught the blade in the tines of the fork. I had intended to twist it out of his hands, but the sword's blade broke. Jason was left with the last four inches and stumbled backwards as I thrust the fork towards him.

Behind him, my neighbours had started to arrive, coming from both directions. They might be older men, but eight of them grabbed Jason while another rang the police. Jason was struggling ineffectually and swearing when the police arrived to take him away.

As before, my CCTV had covered everything.

Angela made tea and coffee while all of us gave statements to the police, to back up the video from multiple CCTV cameras. This time Jason was remanded into custody and transferred to the local jail until his trial.

I was enjoying being looked after by Angela, and her body either resting against my back in bed, or her head resting on my shoulder. But my broken leg and bruising meant we couldn't do anything at first. After a week, Angela decided I was fit enough for a blow job. I didn't know, and didn't ask, how she had acquired the skill to do it so effectively.

A few days later I was able to repay her with an extended session of pussy licking which drove her into paroxysm of squealing delight. But it was three weeks, almost about the time the plaster cast was due to be cut off my leg, before we were to make love awkwardly but in a normal manner. When Angela was impaled on my erection her head was below my chin. I had never had a partner so small, but she made up for her size by being very active. Once the cast was off- so were we. That first night we barely slept because we were making love most of the night. The next morning my leg was aching but it had been worth it.

At the weekend, I was cleaning the garden implements my neighbours had been using to clear my back garden. Their work was nearly done and they had lit several bonfires to deal with the tangle of brambles they had cut down. The bill hook and machete needed sharpening again. Angela was cooking our Saturday lunch. Although the plaster cast had gone and the bruises were fading, I wasn't at my usual level of fitness.

Suddenly, from both ends of the back lane some of Jason's relations arrived. I ducked back into the garage and shut and bolted the door. The men started pounding on the door. I knew they had no possibility of breaking in and they would be shown on my and the neighbours CCTV. I rang he police. They had already been contacted by my neighbours who had seen Jason's relations arrive. Within a few minutes police cars blocked both ends of the back lane. The relations were all arrested, charged with attempted witness intimidation and possession of offensive weapons. It didn't matter that they had thrown some of the weapons into gardens when they saw the police. Their actions were recorded on multiple CCTV cameras.

I and the neighbours had to make detailed police statements, backed up with copies of the CCTV recordings. Jason's relations were taken before the magistrates, released on bail with the conditions that they should not go near me, Angela, nor Angela's parents or grandparents.

+++

A few weeks later Jason's trial was held. Although Angela, her grandparents, my neighbours and I all attended as potential witnesses, we weren't needed. After seeing the CCTV, the defence barrister had persuaded Jason to plead guilty to all the charges and that others should be taken into account in the sentencing. He was sent to jail for nine years.

At a later trial, numbers of Jason's relations also pleaded guilty because of the CCTV recordings. All of them received suspended sentences, community work orders, were tagged and had to stay well away from Angela, me, and Angela's relations. None of us were convinced that they would obey the instruction to stay away, but if they breached it, they would have their suspended sentences enforced and would go straight to jail.