Gillian Jackson - The Accident

While his wife washed up the breakfast things Joe went back upstairs to brush his teeth. He studied the yellowing teeth which had once been white and even. I don’t know why she stays with me , he thought. Alison was still trim and pretty at forty-two, but then she worked hard to keep her figure, with Pilates and swimming, and a healthy diet. Was it too late for him? he wondered, knowing that he was basically too lazy to put in the effort. His waistline had thickened considerably in the last few years but Alison was great, never nagging him about it although he knew she harboured concerns about his health. Alison was the bright spot in his life, his ‘reason for living’ he called her; corny, he knew.

‘Come on, love!’ Joe called to his wife ten minutes later. ‘We don’t want to keep your mum waiting.’

She held on to his arm as they negotiated the icy path leading to the garage.

‘I’ve never known such a long cold snap,’ Alison grumbled.

Once they were in the car and the heater began to warm them through, Joe asked, ‘Do you think I should try to eat a little more healthily, Ali?’

‘I think that’s a great idea.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure you’d like some of those recipes I get from the slimming magazines. We could both make an effort, work at it together.’

Nothing more was said and Joe knew that his wife would go about helping him in her own quiet way; she was great like that and, in all honesty, deserved better than him. Perhaps he’d even have another go at giving up smoking, for both their sakes.

They’d been married now for eighteen years, most of which had been blissfully happy. Their one big regret was that they hadn’t been blessed with children, but as with every other setback in life, Alison simply got on with it without complaint — the painful subject was barely referred to anymore now that it was too late and the chance had passed them by for good. They’d briefly looked into the possibility of adoption but the lengthy process seemed so fraught with problems and red tape that they soon abandoned the idea, and then, five years ago, they’d decided to get a dog. Neither of them was naive enough to think that a dog could ever be the same as a child, but they had love to give, a good home, and plenty of time and patience, so after a visit to the local animal sanctuary, Liffey came into their lives. They fell in love with her as soon as they laid eyes on her sweet face, beautiful rich golden coat and large velvet brown eyes.

‘She was found abandoned on the streets of Ireland, frightened and hungry,’ the manager had told them. ‘We think she’s part golden Labrador, crossed perhaps with a Lurcher.’

Liffey had only been at the centre for a couple of days and hadn’t settled well at all. Alison was horrified to see that the poor dog had blood on her paws.

‘What’s happened to her?’ she had asked.

‘She can’t take to kennel life, I’m afraid; she barked and scratched through most of the night. If you were interested in her we’d really want you to take her as soon as possible.’

Alison and Joe had exchanged glances. There was no doubt that they wanted this dog — in fact they would find it very difficult to leave without her. She’d been named Sugar, but Joe suggested Liffey as a reminder of her Irish roots, and so Liffey she became, and very quickly took centre stage in their household.

Slim for a Labrador, which was probably the Lurcher in her, they soon found out that Liffey had issues. At first she was very nervous — they even wondered at times if she’d ever lived in a house before — but settling her in became a welcome focus for Alison and Joe, and over the first year she became an important part of their lives and they doted on her. Joe liked to joke that he had two women in the house bossing him around now, but he loved every minute of it.

Not having children meant that money wasn’t tight for the Parkers like it was for many of their friends with families, and they weren’t tied in any way. They’d taken some memorable, perhaps some would say extravagant, holidays and been able to go to places they would never have afforded if they had a family.

Still, Joe knew that Alison would really have loved a child ... and so would he — holidays could never compensate for that loss. He’d been thinking about their childless status a lot lately. He worried about who would look after Ali when he was gone. True, she was an intelligent, capable woman, but he’d always taken delight in caring for her.

The traffic was slow and dropping Alison off would mean Joe would be late getting into work, but he was the department head and there would certainly be no one waiting to reprimand him for tardiness. His thoughts turned to his mother-in-law, a woman he found very difficult to get along with. Alison went faithfully twice a week, often more, to do her cleaning, washing, ironing, and shopping. He didn’t mind, except that the old lady didn’t appreciate it one iota, and the more Alison did for her, the more she expected, without ever expressing a word of gratitude. She sat watching television from early morning until late at night, not attempting to do anything for herself, when she was more than capable of making the effort.

Joe drove carefully, never one to take risks, and with the roads still covered in ice from the cold snap of the last week, he wasn’t going to hurry. There was no let-up in this abysmal weather; he couldn’t remember it ever being as bad as this and his wipers struggled to clear the freezing rain which was falling heavily, making visibility poor. Once on the motorway the conditions would hopefully be a little better and as they were approaching the slip road soon, he should be able to go a little faster. His Range Rover was great in these conditions, another luxury which he should be grateful for, and very soon he manoeuvred smoothly into the flow of traffic on the motorway with only two miles to go until the next junction.

‘Shall we eat out tonight, Joe?’ Alison asked him. ‘If I stay at Mum’s until you finish work you can pick me up and we could go straight to The Mango Tree?’

‘Yes, why not, a last splurge before you put me on a diet — What the hell!’

Joe was forced to brake hard as a little Ford Focus careering down the slip road ahead of them came into his vision, apparently having skidded on the ice and now obviously out of control. He watched in horror as its wheels slid onto the motorway, the car spinning round and ending up with its back end smashed into a lorry which was approaching on the near side.

Suddenly, he felt his own car slide beneath him. Panicking, he pumped the brakes frantically but the tires couldn’t find purchase on the ice beneath them and they were heading towards the stricken Ford Focus, helpless to prevent the impending contact. An image of a screaming woman loomed in his windscreen, as if magnified, but he was powerless to stop his car from hitting hers, head on.

Alison screamed as the air bags activated on impact, obscuring their view as they smashed into the other car. Joe’s ears were filled with white noise as he gasped for breath, struggling against the fabric of the air bag and shouting at his wife.

‘Ali, are you all right? Ali, Ali!’

There was no reply.

The car was jolted several times, grating noises assaulting his ears as he realised that other vehicles must have crashed into the back of them. Joe fought frantically against the air bag in an effort to get out of the door, but it wouldn’t open. The front wing had buckled on impact and the door was jammed.

Clawing at the air bag, he managed to pull the voluminous folds of material down onto his knee until he could see his wife. Alison lay unconscious beside him, her head slack and drooping onto her right shoulder, a trickle of blood running from her mouth. A feeling of utter helplessness engulfed him as he reached over to touch her, grasping for her hand as he repeated her name over and over.