Gillian Jackson - The Accident

Joe had never before considered what was associated with a death, and ironically it was almost certainly the worst possible time to absorb and understand everything which needed to be done. Having his arm in a sling and the constant pain of his injury didn’t help either; it was a surprise to him how difficult it was to manage even the simplest of tasks with one arm incapacitated. He propped the letter on the mantel shelf behind the clock and sighed; whatever the coroner’s findings would be, they wouldn’t bring Alison back.

Joe was due at the hospital for an X-ray. If his bones were not healing, he faced the prospect of surgery to have a metal plate fitted, an unpleasant thought which had gone some way to ensuring he was looking after himself and not attempting to use his injured arm. Phil again volunteered a lift; he and Helen were a true godsend and Joe didn’t know how he’d have coped without their practical help and support.

As Phil drove through the early morning traffic, Joe found himself flinching each time another car approached — unnecessarily so, as Phil was an excellent driver. He supposed it was a natural reaction to having been in a serious accident and only hoped it wouldn’t affect his confidence when he was able to get back behind the wheel himself. At one point Joe suddenly braced himself, convinced they were going to collide with another car.

‘You all right, mate?’ Phil asked.

‘Yes, sorry, I’m a bit of a nervous passenger these days.’

Phil nodded in understanding.

The early appointment ensured that Joe didn’t have long to wait, so they went first to the X-ray department and then to the waiting room. He was called in after only fifteen minutes and received the good news that the X-ray showed that the bones were knitting together well and the doctor seemed pleased with his progress.

‘We’ll do another X-ray in two weeks’ time and if things are still improving you can start physio and begin to use the arm again. Keep resting it until then and if it’s still looking good I think we can forget about surgery.’

The doctor smiled, delighted to be offering good news. It was such a relief to Joe, the last thing he wanted was for his injury to need further treatment; his caution over the last couple of weeks seemed to have paid off. After the appointment he insisted on buying Phil a coffee in the hospital cafe, it was the least he could do to repay his friend.

‘I got a letter about the inquest this morning, it’s on the 20th of this month,’ he told Phil.

‘Do you want me to come with you, or is it just for family?’

‘If you can, that would be great. I don’t have much in the way of family really — only a brother who I haven’t had contact with for years and the mother-in-law from hell. Doesn’t that just describe what a sad life I have?’

‘Ah, but you have friends.’ Phil grinned.

‘That I have, and you’ve proved to be the best, Phil. I’m so grateful to you and Helen; I really don’t know how I’d have coped without you both.’

‘We’ve done no more than anyone else would do. We were both very fond of Alison and we miss her too, I still can’t believe what happened sometimes and I actually think you’re coping remarkably well. If it was Helen who’d gone, I’d be a complete wreck.’

‘Most of the time I function on auto-pilot. Night times are the worst, it’s almost unbearable and I don’t sleep too well these days. I dread those small hours of the morning, but daylight comes eventually and I’ve got Liffey to keep going for. Sounds silly, doesn’t it, she’s just a dog, but sometimes I think she understands what I’m going through.’

‘Of course she does! Dogs are very sensitive creatures and she’ll pick up on your feelings. And she must miss Alison too.’

‘Yes, I think she does.’

They were silent for a few moments and then Phil asked when Joe would be considering starting work again.

‘I’d actually like to get back as soon as possible but with this collarbone, it’s not an option yet. Perhaps after the inquest and the next visit here? I’ll discuss it with the doctor then, see what he thinks.’

‘It might be good to focus on something else and I know you enjoy your work. They seem to have been quite flexible with you too,’ Phil remarked.

‘Yes, they have. One of the directors rang me almost as soon as I got home from the hospital and told me to take as much time as I needed. They sent a lovely bouquet of flowers too; Ali would have loved them...’ Joe’s voice was fractured and he was in danger of losing it, a definite no-no in public! He sniffed, raised his eyes and forced himself to smile. ‘You’re right, it will do me good to get back to work, some sort of routine and all that.’

‘Helen and I were talking about it too and we want you to know that we’ll be happy to keep on helping with Liffey’s care. We’ll see to her during the day, or at least Helen will when I’m at work, in fact she can come to us any time you’re not at home if you like. You know we love to have her — it could be a kind of dog-share?’

Joe hadn’t even considered such practicalities, but Liffey, although happy to be left alone sometimes, was used to Ali being around most days, it wouldn’t be fair to leave her alone all day and every day.

‘That’s so kind of you and perfect for Liffey. I’ve not given much thought to the logistics of going back to work, apart from wondering when I’ll be able to drive again. It’s going to take some getting used to not having Ali around to think of all these things for me,’ he replied pensively.

Once Joe was back at home, and after an enthusiastic welcome from his dog, he sat down, rubbing Liffey’s ears thoughtfully as he considered his future. The house was still full of Alison; he hadn’t even begun to think about sorting out her possessions, although he knew he’d have to be practical at some point.

He gave Liffey her dinner and then ventured upstairs, turning automatically towards the spare bedroom, which his wife had used as her sewing room. He’d purposely not entered this room since the accident and almost as soon as he opened the door, he wished he hadn’t. It was a good sized, bright room, full of natural light from windows on two elevations, but the room was saturated with Alison’s presence, as if she’d left it only a moment ago, to return at any moment. Her sewing machine, perched on the work table, still held fabric under the presser foot, where she’d left it the night before she died; too tired to put it away and assuming she’d pick up her task the following evening. Joe touched the fabric — cushion covers, that was her latest project, a change from the endless soft toys she loved to make to sell at fundraising events for the hospice.

The faint smell of one of Alison’s scented candles lingered in the air. She knew he disliked them, so used them only in her own space; sweet-pea, mimosa, lilac and tea rose, being her favourite fragrances. On the shelves were her most loved books; all eight of the Brontë sisters’ novels, the complete works of Jane Austen and Daphne du Maurier, together with some of her favourite contemporary authors, such as Kate Morton and Victoria Hislop.

Photographs decorated almost the whole of one wall, mostly pictures of Liffey, and others of the wonderful holidays they’d shared together. The sudden ache in his heart made him realise how much he missed his wife and how she would love to have had children’s photographs in her room ... images of their children ... who had never been born.

Joe was suddenly aware of his dog in the room with him, sniffing in every corner and giving a little whine, not comprehending the finality of death, but then did he? Man and dog sat together in that small room, surrounded by memories and Alison’s simple treasures, until dusk wrapped itself around them and Liffey again whined, this time for something as basic as a need to go into the garden.