Day of the Accident

by Nuala Ellwood

  Sonia looks down at her feet while Amanda shifts awkwardly in her seat. I’m making them uncomfortable but I don’t care.

  ‘So I don’t need Housing Benefit forms,’ I cry. ‘We need … we need the police. They have to do a proper search. Oh God … do you understand? I have to find him. You’ve got to … you’ve got to help me.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Maggie,’ says Amanda. ‘Much as I wish I could, I have no way of finding your husband. But what I can do is make sure you’re looked after properly.’

  I sit back down on the bed, deflated. My lungs are sore from shouting. I rub my chest but it only makes the pain worse.

  ‘Let me get your inhaler,’ says Amanda.

  She goes to the counter and opens the blue medical bag.

  ‘Here you are, love,’ she says, passing it to me.

  I take two big gulps. The action makes me feel dizzy. I put my head in my hands to steady myself.

  ‘You’re not alone, Maggie,’ says Amanda, leaning across and placing her hand on my knee. ‘And I realize that this is about so much more than the money and the house. You’ve lost your little girl. You need to be able to come to terms with that and we can help there too as much as we can. There’s a wonderful grief counselling service running in Lewes. I can arrange for you to go along to one of their sessions. It might help to meet people who are going through the same experience as you.’

  I’m not even close to being ready for that. How can I be? How can I talk about my grief when I can’t even remember how I came to be in that car in the first place?

  ‘No,’ I say, sitting up. ‘Thank you but that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘I understand,’ says Amanda, glancing across at Sonia, ‘I really do, but then I’ve also found that in times of hurt being around other people can be an enormous tonic.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve always found the opposite to be true.’ I know I sound rude, but I don’t know how to explain to her. ‘People make me anxious at the best of times.’

  I catch Sonia’s eye and she nods her head. Perhaps she feels the same way too.

  ‘Maybe we leave the counselling sessions for a wee while, Amanda,’ says Sonia. ‘It’s still early days.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Amanda, her voice a little more brittle than before.

  Behind me, Sonia starts picking up clothes from the floor and folding them into neat piles.

  ‘Here, Maggie,’ she says, handing me a piece of paper. ‘You must have dropped this.’

  I take the paper and press it to my chest.

  ‘I started writing a list,’ I say to Amanda. ‘Of people who might know where Sean is. But … well, I have no way of contacting them or looking them up because my phone was lost in the accident.’

  ‘I’m sure we can organize a phone for you,’ says Amanda. ‘Perhaps when you go into town later, Sonia?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Sonia. ‘It’ll probably have to be a cheap pay-as-you-go but it’s something I guess.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, tears brimming in my eyes. ‘That would be so helpful.’

  ‘Hey, it’s no bother,’ she says gently.

  ‘Thank you, Sonia,’ says Amanda. ‘Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you as my next appointment is in five minutes. Oh, before I forget, here’s a list of emergency numbers. Mine is at the top. If you need me at all please do call from the landline here.’

  She hands me the list and I put it on the bed.

  ‘I’ll leave you with Sonia. She’s going to take you to the bank to check your account. You said you had a small savings account, separate from your joint account, is that right?’

  I nod my head.

  ‘Well, the contents of that account could help you until the benefits come through,’ says Amanda. ‘Which usually take around six weeks.’

  I smile politely, though I know there’s just under two hundred pounds in that account. I have no idea if that will last me six weeks.

  ‘Then once you’ve sorted everything out at the bank it’s on to the Job Centre to register,’ says Amanda. ‘I know it’s not the nicest thing in the world but every little bit counts at this stage. Oh, and I almost forgot.’

  She opens her bag and pulls out a book.

  ‘You left this behind when they discharged you,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘Your ICU nurse gave it to Mike to pass on.’

  ‘What is it?’ I say, taking the book from her outstretched hand.

  ‘They call it your ICU diary,’ says Amanda. ‘Every patient who has been in the unit long-term is given one of these.’

  ‘A diary?’

  I touch the shiny plastic cover, see my name written at the top in black biro.

  ‘Well, they say diary,’ says Amanda. ‘It’s actually more a record of your time in the unit. They wrote in it each day, giving little updates on your progress.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘The ICU staff,’ says Amanda. ‘Mainly Claire and Dr Elms I guess.’

  ‘But why would I need it now?’ I say, placing the book on the bed.

  ‘I think some patients find it helpful to look back and read what happened while they were in the coma,’ says Amanda. ‘Others don’t. It’s entirely up to you, Maggie. But it’s there if you feel you want to find out more.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, though I know I won’t be reading it. The last thing I need is to be reminded of that place.

  ‘Right, well I’ll be off then,’ says Amanda. ‘See you soon, Maggie.’

  While Sonia sees Amanda out I sit and look at the list of names I’ve compiled. Might any of these people know where Sean is or am I just wasting my time? I don’t know the answer but what I do know is that, no matter how hard it gets or how long it takes, I have to find him.

  15

  My heart is racing as we step out on to the street. It’s almost lunchtime and Lewes high street is packed with shoppers and tourists. Sonia leads the way while I trail behind her, a nervous child following her mother.

  Ten minutes later I’m sitting on a chair in an open-plan office while a stocky pimple-faced young man called Neil outlines my ‘Back to Work’ plan. I watch as he types something into his computer. Sonia is waiting in the reception area so I’m going it alone.

  ‘Right, so what would you say are your key skills?’ says Neil, looking up momentarily from his keyboard. ‘What sort of work should we be looking for?’

  ‘I used to work in admin,’ I say, speaking slowly so my brain keeps up.

  ‘Okay,’ says Neil, resuming his typing. ‘What level?’

  ‘Level?’ I say, imagining myself standing in the lift of the Waterloo office as it rose up to the sixth floor. ‘Er, well, it was mostly reception work.’

  ‘Basic then,’ says Neil, nodding his head. ‘Reason for leaving?’

  He’s reading the questions from a screen.

  ‘I had a baby,’ I say. ‘And I … I gave up work to look after her full-time.’

  Although this young man has been informed at the beginning of the interview that my child is dead, he shows no hint of emotion as he types in my answer.

  ‘You see, my husband, he was the main breadwinner once Elspeth was born.’

  ‘So how long have you been out of employment?’ he says.

  ‘Ten years,’ I reply.

  ‘You haven’t worked for ten years?’

  I can feel him judging me.

  ‘Not officially, no,’ I say, sweat beginning to gather on my forehead. ‘Though I’ve been writing a book and I was hoping …’ I trail off when I see the look on his face.

  ‘What sort of work are you looking for?’ he says, with a sigh.

  I look at him blankly. I can’t even begin to think about work. What I’m looking for is my husband and my daughter.

  ‘Reception? Front of house?’

  I nod my head and he types something into his computer. Then his phone starts to buzz on the desk. He grabs it swiftly and turns it off. As I watch him I remember something. I’m sitting at my desk in the study, staring
at the screen just like this young man is, and then my phone buzzes. I know it’s the day of the dream catcher because some of the wool is on the desk in front of me. I feel my heart leap in my chest.

  ‘Mrs Allan?’

  I look up. Neil has freed his hands from the keyboard and sits with them folded on the desk in front of him.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m still finding it hard to concentrate.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ he says. ‘Now due to your health issues it may be a while before you’re declared fit for work. I’ll organize an assessment for six weeks’ time but in the meantime here’s a breakdown of what you’re entitled to.’

  He hands me a piece of paper with various boxes printed on it.

  ‘You’ll need to come in to sign every two weeks,’ he says. ‘We’ll count today as your first signing day and then it will be every other Tuesday. Now if you could just sign the two boxes at the bottom of the form, we’re all done.’

  I hastily scribble my name then hand the forms back to Neil.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘See you in two weeks.’

  I scramble to my feet, trying to keep my composure as I make my way through the open-plan room as fast as I can. But I can feel Neil’s eyes on me, judging me, a woman who hasn’t worked for ten years, a flaky idiot who couldn’t even keep her daughter safe. And the worst thing is, I know he’s right.

  ‘Okay, this is it,’ says Sonia a few minutes later, stopping outside the bank.

  I’m not really listening to her. I’m trying to remember more about that phone call, the one I remembered when I was sitting in the job centre. Who was it?

  ‘Ready, Maggie?’

  I look up at the familiar building, a sinking feeling in my stomach. I have banked with this branch almost all my life. I know many of the cashiers by name. There is Sue, who organized a loan for us when we were renovating the house; Val, the red-haired Welsh woman who always gave Elspeth a barley sugar sweet whenever we came in; Ashley, the manager. The thought of going back in there in this state, having to answer questions, having them look at me with pity in their eyes, I just can’t bear it.

  ‘It’s okay,’ says Sonia. ‘It’s just a bank. We’ll be in and out in moments.’

  There’s a short queue and while we wait I scan the desks to see if any of the cashiers I know are working today. I see Val through a glass screen in the back office but she is having a meeting and doesn’t look up. I’m pleased. I couldn’t bear having to explain to her what has happened.

  ‘Our turn,’ says Sonia.

  I look up and see a green light flashing above the glass-protected screen. A young woman with her hair piled up in a messy bun sits behind it.

  ‘Hi there. How can I help you today?’ she says languidly.

  ‘Er, I’d like to check my balance,’ I say, gripping hold of the counter as a wave of dizziness comes over me.

  ‘You can do that at the cash points,’ says the girl, gesturing to the row of blinking machines on the far wall. ‘There’s no need to queue up here if you just want a balance.’

  Sweat starts to gather on my forehead. I’m burning up despite the cool temperature in here. The girl looks at me warily.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m just a bit …’

  ‘Are you okay, Maggie?’ says Sonia, who is standing next to me. ‘Do you need to sit down?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I just want to get this done.’

  ‘Mrs Allan’s just come out of hospital,’ says Sonia, picking up on the girl’s bemused expression. ‘She’s been in intensive care and she’s still a little fragile.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says the girl. ‘Listen, how about I get one of my colleagues to come and talk to you? There’s a customer services suite with plenty of seats. Maybe that would be better if she’s still having difficulty on her feet.’

  She addresses all of this to Sonia. I no longer exist.

  ‘I’ll go and get my colleague, Val, and she’ll come out and help you,’ says the girl, standing up.

  ‘No,’ I cry, putting my hands on to the counter, ‘No, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to make a fuss.’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ says the girl.

  ‘No, please. It’s fine.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says, sighing heavily. ‘Well, if you’re happy to use the cashpoints, they’re just over there.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I say, my head spinning. ‘I don’t have the … I mean, my memory was affected after the accident. I don’t remember my pin.’

  ‘Oh,’ says the girl, looking at me with narrowed eyes as though I’m a criminal. ‘Well, do you have any ID? A passport? Birth certificate.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘My husband got rid of them.’

  The girl’s eyes widen.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you then,’ says the girl. ‘For security reasons we need some ID.’

  It all becomes too much for me then and I slump forward. Sonia catches me just in time. I hear the girl call for assistance and then a familiar voice.

  ‘Maggie. Is that you?’

  I turn and see Val coming towards me. Sean used to say that Val and I looked alike, though she is much more polished than me. Unlike my wild mane, her auburn hair is cut in a neat, glossy bob, her eyes shaded by smart black-framed spectacles. I look down at my borrowed clothes but I don’t feel ashamed any more. I just feel numb.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ says Val, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I need to check my balance,’ I say, rather more abruptly than intended. ‘I didn’t want to make a fuss but all my stuff has –’

  ‘Hey, hey, don’t worry,’ says Val, sensing my agitation. ‘Let’s go somewhere quieter and we can sort this out.’

  She gestures to the girl behind the counter then leads Sonia and me towards a small, glass-fronted room.

  ‘Do take a seat,’ she says as we enter.

  Sonia helps me into the stiff plastic chair.

  ‘Right,’ says Val, sitting down opposite. ‘First, Maggie, can I say how truly sorry I am – we all are – to hear about little Elspeth.’

  I nod my head, tears clouding my eyes. Elspeth loved the bank. She would skip around the room while I queued up to see a cashier, lost in her own little world. If Val was here she’d pop a barley sugar sweet into Elspeth’s hands and ask her how school was going.

  ‘She was a lovely child,’ says Val, interrupting my thoughts. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how you must be feeling.’

  ‘Can we … can we just sort out the account, please,’ I say, wiping my eyes. ‘It’s just … I find it very hard to talk about her still.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Val gently. ‘If you pass your card over I’ll have it sorted in moments.’

  Sonia and I sit in silence as Val types something into her computer. After a couple of minutes she looks up.

  ‘Okay, so the balance of your account is £198.54.’

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

  Val smiles awkwardly. ‘We, er, we had the police visit us,’ she says, folding her hands on the desk. ‘They were asking questions about your husband.’

  Of course, I think to myself. This will have been one of the last places he visited. I sit up straight in my chair and try to compose myself.

  ‘They said he took all the money from his account,’ I say.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he say why he was doing that? Or where he was going?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ says Val, looking pained. ‘It was our deputy manager, Jamie, who dealt with the closing of the account. He told the police all he knew. I guess if your husband had given any explanation then Jamie would have said.’

  ‘He … he lied to me,’ I say, tears welling up. ‘He said we owned our house but we were just tenants. And then … when I was in … in the hospital he moved out of the house and threw away all our things … all Elspeth’s things. I’ve lost everything.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, that’s
terrible,’ says Val. ‘You poor thing.’

  I put my face in my hands, trying to hide my tears.

  ‘How about we go and get some air, Maggie?’ says Sonia.

  I nod, allowing her to help me out of my seat.

  Behind her, Val stands watching us, her eyes have filled with tears. I can’t bear it.

  ‘That must have been tough,’ says Sonia as we walk out of the bank. ‘But you did really well. Now, how about we find somewhere to sit and catch a breath before we walk back?’

  I am about to answer when something catches my eye. There’s a woman standing on the other side of the street. She’s staring right at me. My skin prickles. It’s Barbara. Ben’s mother. She has aged considerably since I last saw her but her hair is still blonde and swept up into a bun; her make-up is immaculate, her clothes expensive and chic. I want to run but it’s too late, she’s heading this way.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she says as she approaches. ‘They let you out then, did they?’

  ‘Hello, Barbara,’ I say, my voice quivering. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ she says, her face twisted with hatred. ‘I want to know why you’re out walking the streets. They should have locked you up years ago.’

  ‘Maggie? Is everything okay?’ asks Sonia, stepping in between Barbara and me.

  ‘Who are you?’ says Barbara, her eyes widening as she takes in Sonia’s outfit.

  ‘I’m Maggie’s carer,’ says Sonia, puffing her chest out defiantly. ‘And I don’t think you should be talking to her like that when she’s just come out of hospital. She’s not well.’

  ‘I know she’s not well,’ says Barbara, her cheeks reddening. ‘She’s not well in the head.’

  ‘Barbara, please …’ I say, my head thudding with the tension.

  ‘A carer?’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘Gosh, I’ve heard it all. Well, you always did need someone to hide behind, didn’t you? When I think back to what you got away with, it makes me sick. And now you’ve done it again by all accounts. That poor little girl. You’re dangerous, that’s what you are, and dangerous people ought to be locked up.’

  Her eyes flash with hatred. I go to speak, to defend myself, but no words will come. Instead I let Sonia guide me away, Barbara’s venom ringing in my ears.