Gillian Jackson - The Accident

‘Joe Parker? Isn’t he the one whose wife died in the accident?’

‘Yes, that’s right. We met briefly at the hospital when I went for my first fitting and I was glad of the opportunity to thank him for his testimony at the inquest, so it was good to see him again. His brother’s died since the accident too; it must be awful for him.’

‘Bloody hell! That seems a bit unfair.’ Rosie’s face suddenly split into a huge grin as she asked, ‘So what’s he like, this Joe?’

‘Oh, Rosie, don’t think that, he’s just a nice man who I shared a cup of tea with.’

‘Well, why shouldn’t I think like that? You’re single, he’s single and you’re a very attractive woman, Hannah Graham. Is he, you know, fit?’

‘He’s just a lovely man who I met by chance. He’s just lost his wife, for heaven’s sake, and besides, he’d never be interested in me!’

‘Why ever not?’

‘You know why not.’ Hannah absently rubbed her leg. ‘It’s repulsive.’ There, she’d said it; she was convinced that no man would consider her to be attractive, ever again.

‘So you’re an expert now on what repulses this Joe, are you?’

‘Any man would be repulsed by it ... this stump, it’s ugly, hideous...’

‘Hannah, listen to me. Your stump does not define you! You are still the same person you were before this accident — a warm, caring person and, hell woman, look in the mirror, you’re gorgeous. Besides, from what you tell me, Joe sounds a very nice person but if having a prosthetic leg puts him off, then he’s not worth having. You’d have to give him, or any man for that matter, a chance to prove that he’s not that shallow.’

Hannah suddenly burst into tears and Rosie moved beside her to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulder.

‘Go on then, let it all out,’ Rosie whispered as Hannah released all her pent-up emotions in huge sobs.

After a few minutes Hannah quietened and began to apologise. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie; I really thought I was done with all the tears, the feeling sorry for myself.’

‘Don’t apologise, tears are cathartic and you bottle things up far too much. A good cry does us all good sometimes. You don’t always have to be brave, Hannah; none of us can be strong all the time and you’ve had a lot going on recently.’

‘Thanks, Rosie, maybe you’re right. It’s been all losses this year, first my leg, then Mike and now the twins. I know all children have to grow up and leave home, but I’m not looking forward to it. The house will be so quiet.’

‘I’ll do my best to make more noise, shall I?’ Rosie asked. They laughed together and Rosie refilled their wine glasses. ‘Getting back to this Joe, did you give him your telephone number?’

‘Well, actually, I did. We do seem to hit it off well and I think we could get along, as friends, so when he asked if I’d mind if he rang me sometime, just to see how I was getting on, I said that would be fine.’ Hannah could feel herself blushing.

‘Good for you, it sounds as if you could both do with some company. You might be good for each other.’

When Rosie left, Hannah’s mood switched once again and she became reflective. The twins wouldn’t be in for another couple of hours but she shouldn’t rely on them for company. She was proud of them both, Sam was to study sports science at university and Mel had chosen journalism and media studies. They would do well, and Hannah knew that wasn’t just her biased opinion.

Over the last few months Sam had changed the most, his frame had at last filled out, probably with all the extra sports he was doing, and his confidence had grown too. Working at the sports centre gave him the opportunity to meet so many new people and his social circle increased almost overnight. He was protective towards his mother though, demonstrating a gentle side which Mike always said came from her.

Mel had been writing articles covering a wide range of topics and submitting them to magazines for publication. Several had been accepted and Hannah was so proud to see Mel’s name in print beneath an article she had written. Mel had even taken her camera and notebook to Timmy’s Farm the previous day, and with permission from Alan Jones, made notes for a feature on the project.

Hannah knew she didn’t need to worry about her children, but she would miss them so much. Perhaps Rosie was right and she needed to work on increasing her own social circle.

David’s funeral was the saddest one Joe had ever attended, not for the expected reasons, but because he and the undertaker were the only ones present. It was such a contrast to the packed service for Alison, when people Joe didn’t even know had turned up to pay their respects.

David had not been religious, and so a civil celebrant presided over a very short service at the Eastleigh crematorium, and when the curtains closed it seemed as if David’s life was not just over but would be forgotten by everyone, except his brother. But what would Joe’s memories of him be? Sadly perhaps, the most abiding one would be of the day he tried to kill him. Seeing David’s face at the wheel of the car was an image which would never leave Joe, but above all else, he was saddened that his brother’s life had been ended in such a violent way. It would probably be months before Pam’s trial and he’d heard nothing new from DS Armstrong which presumably meant that nothing was happening.

Joe was glad to get home, and the welcome he received from Liffey went a long way to bringing him comfort. He had good friends, a lovely home and even though he still missed Alison with every fibre of his being, he was learning to be grateful for what he did have.

Thoughts of his wife prompted thoughts of her mother. It was over a month since he’d spoken to Ethel on the phone, a conversation which was brief, as someone knocked on her door only a minute after she answered the phone. The old lady hadn’t rung back, so Joe assumed she didn’t want to talk, but for Alison’s sake he felt he should visit her again to make sure she was coping okay.

It was a duty visit which he embarked upon one Saturday morning, without forewarning her to let her know that he was coming.

Joe rang the doorbell and almost immediately heard her voice through the entry intercom. When she buzzed him in and he stood before her in the lounge, she looked him up and down.

‘Well, it is you, I thought you were dead, too!’ Ethel’s tone was, as always, sarcastic.

Why does she always have to be so bloody snarky, he thought but pressed his lips tightly together to stop himself replying in a similar fashion. After a moment he said, ‘I’ve been in an accident, Ethel, and I’ve been laid up for a while.’ For some reason he didn’t want to tell her about David’s death; it was still very raw and Ethel was the last person he wanted asking intrusive questions and prying into his affairs.

Ethel squinted at him. ‘Huh, another accident, that’s a bit careless, isn’t it?’

‘I’m getting better now, thank you!’ Joe replied. ‘Anyway, how are you? Did you get any help from Social Services sorted out?’

‘Don’t talk to me about Social Services, they’re useless. A lady came to visit and just about gave me the third degree. If I want any help I have to tell them everything; they even want to assess my finances and expect me to tell them every penny I have. Then there’ll be another visit to assess my care needs! And even after jumping through all of their hoops they want me to pay for the service, it’s ridiculous!’

It was no more than Joe had expected but he didn’t offer an opinion. ‘So what have you decided to do?’ he asked instead.

‘Well, Mrs Hoskins in the bungalow across the street suggested I put an ad in the newsagent’s window, so I did. A nice young girl came round, Christina her name is, from Romania or some such place, and she started almost straight away.’