Gillian Jackson - The Accident

‘Well, I can’t see any other way for now,’ he said. He ended the call quickly; if he stayed on the line much longer he’d almost certainly have said something he would later regret. Ethel was hardly reacting like a grieving mother, but for Alison’s sake he would try to be civil to his mother-in-law.

Hannah struggled from the car into the house on her crutches. She’d mastered using them in the hospital, but the corridors there were straight and smooth, while negotiating the garden gate and the crazy-paved path to her house was like walking through an obstacle course. Concentrating hard on her balance, remembering what they’d taught her in physio, she was still afraid that she might fall flat on her face.

Next door’s curtains twitched, giving away the fact that Rosie was watching, another reason not to fall over. Rosie had visited the hospital on only one occasion, bringing with her a welcome bundle of luxury toiletries, magazines and Hannah’s favourite chocolates. She stayed only a short time, seeing how tired her friend was, but insisted that she send a message through Mike if there was anything else she needed. Hannah was grateful for Rosie’s sensitivity and looked forward to seeing her properly now that she was home.

Once inside the house, she was greeted enthusiastically by Mel and almost as keenly by Sam. It was Saturday and they were all at home together, an unusual occurrence for the Graham family.

‘I’ll make tea!’ Mel bounded off to the kitchen to perform a task that would normally have been her mother’s.

Hannah was again struck by how different life was going to be, certainly until the fitting of her prosthetic leg. She sat on the sofa with her feet up; it was important to keep her stump elevated, as well as moving her leg as much as possible. Mike sat facing her on an armchair and Sam hovered, unsure what his role should be.

‘Come here.’ She smiled and motioned to her son, who dutifully perched on the sofa beside her. She took his hand. ‘I know it’s difficult for you, love, but we will get through this, I promise!’

Sam leaned on his mother’s shoulder and allowed her to hold him for a few brief moments. She could tell he was close to tears but knowing Sam he wouldn’t give way easily. He sat up suddenly.

‘Rosie’s coming up the path.’ He’d spotted their neighbour over his mother’s shoulder and now pulled away from her.

‘Well, she hasn’t wasted any time!’ Mike moaned.

‘Why shouldn’t she come round?’

‘She’s hardly given you any time to settle in, has she?’

‘Rosie’s my friend, Mike, and I’d like to see her. Could you open the door please?’

Mike rose to let their neighbour in with a scowl on his face, and then made an excuse about going out to get a takeaway for them to eat, leaving his wife and children wondering at his rudeness.

‘How are you, Hannah?’ Rosie asked, moving to carefully hug her.

Mel brought in a tray of tea and then she and Sam tactfully left the two women alone.

‘If I’m absolutely honest, awful!’ Hannah had tears in her eyes. ‘I’ve been feeling sorry for myself but at the same time trying to make Mike and the kids feel better about this whole thing. It’s so hard on the kids, and Mike avoids any serious conversation. I want to help them cope but it’s a two-way street, surely?’

‘Of course it is! And you have every right to indulge in a bloody pity party if you want to; it’s been a nightmare for you and it’ll take more than just a few days to adjust! Mike will come round and as for Mel and Sam, well they’re young and resilient, they’ll cope.’

‘Mel’s talking about not going to university ... but I can’t let her do that. This is my problem and I don’t want it to affect her future!’

‘Then tell her that. Look, none of you know how this is going to impact on you as a family, it’s early days yet, but there’s no reason why you can’t resume a normal life when your leg’s healed and you get a prosthetic one, which I presume is the aim?’

‘Yes it is, although I don’t know how I’ll manage with it.’ Hannah noticed Rosie’s eyes straying to where her right leg should be. In the hospital she’d seen others doing the same too when she was out of bed and sitting in a chair, an almost morbid curiosity, as if they wanted to make certain that her leg really was gone. ‘It’s ugly, isn’t it? And such an ugly name too, a “stump”. I wake up every morning thinking I’m whole ... and then I remember, I no longer have a leg, just a “stump”.’ Hannah bit her bottom lip, not wanting to break down.

‘You’re still Hannah, still the same woman, wife and mother, and my friend. Nothing can change that.’ Rosie had tears in her eyes too.

‘Thanks, Rosie, you’re a brick.’

Rosie reached down to hug her.

‘Now listen, I don’t want to become a nuisance, always popping in and such like, but I want you to promise me that you’ll ring if I can do anything at all, or if ever you need a shoulder to cry on, okay?’

Hannah nodded and smiled; she would like that, she’d always been able to talk to Rosie and her earthy common sense was probably exactly what she needed now. Although there was almost ten years’ age difference between the two women, they’d been friends for years, opposites in many ways but always there for each other.

Rosie was the younger of the two — a fiery, opinionated woman, married to Frank, a quiet, unassuming man who adored his wife. Their relationship had often puzzled Hannah; she rarely managed to get a full sentence of conversation from Frank, whereas his wife offered an opinion on every subject, whether it was asked for or not. Still they appeared to get on well together, each doing their own thing, but utterly devoted to one another.

Rosie’s long-term plan for her life was well defined and almost set in stone. It basically consisted of promotion at work by the time she was thirty, her first child at thirty-two and their second and final child, at thirty-five. Frank was apparently content to let her make such decisions, nor did he seem to mind the time she devoted to her wide circle of friends, including Hannah, for which the latter was extremely grateful, especially now. She supposed he had his football; a season ticket holder at Manchester City, Frank never missed a match, home or away and still played in a local Sunday league. Rosie often said she would never dare to ask her husband to choose between her and football, and Hannah hoped she was joking.

The sound of Mike’s car in the drive prompted Rosie to say goodbye. ‘Remember, any time,’ she repeated as she left.

Mike carried a bundle of fish and chips under his arm and called the children downstairs to help set a tray. They ate on their knees; it was easier than attempting to get Hannah to the table. After they’d eaten, while the twins cleared away, she tried to talk to Mike.

‘I’m going to have to make some effort to move around the house. If you could bring the wheelchair in from the car, perhaps I could sit in it and get from here into the kitchen and the downstairs toilet ... but I might need some help when I’m in there, is that all right?’

Mike’s brow furrowed. ‘Do you want me to help with that sort of thing, or Mel?’

‘Well, if you don’t want to...’ Hannah was horrified. Did she disgust her husband so much? If he couldn’t bear the thought of helping her with such a basic task, how on earth would she manage? ‘It won’t be forever, you know! When I’m fitted with a new leg I’ll be pretty independent again.’ Mike’s expression was unreadable, a mixture of disgust and pity, but whether for himself or his wife, Hannah couldn’t tell. ‘What is it, Mike, what’s wrong?’