“Thanks.”
“We’ll drive you there.” DI Green offers.
“I’ll drive myself. I’ll be OK.”
“You probably shouldn’t. You’ve had a huge shock.” Christina says, letting her hand rest on my shoulder. “Let them drive you.”
I don’t tell them this, but I want to look at the crash scene for myself first. Try to make sense of everything. So far, I’m holding up well. The old me would probably be drunk by now. I seem to have gone into some sort of autopilot, and I don’t know whether or not that is a good thing. Deep down, however, I know that drinking is the last thing I will be doing.
“She’s right, you know,” says DI Green. “You’ve had a terrible shock.”
“I’d rather drive,” I reply. “Besides, I need to collect my son on the way back. Where shall I meet you?” We could be arranging a meeting at a café, the way I’m talking. Not the identification of my husband’s dead body.
“He’s at the hospital mortuary.” She’s all matter-of-fact. The wateriness has disappeared from her eyes, now that I’ve got myself together. I suppose this is all in a day’s work for her. “We’re waiting to hear from the Coroner but it’s almost certain that a forensic post-mortem will be necessary. Once your husband has been formally identified and the post-mortem has taken place, he can be moved to a chapel of rest.”
“That’s if it’s him.” Christina’s words are full of hope.
I can’t believe that we’re talking coroners and post-mortems. Why couldn’t he just be injured? Why does he have to be dead? “I’ll get changed and I’ll set off,” I say to the police, then turn to Christina. “I’ll text when I know.”
“Are you sure you can do this, alone?”
“I’ll be fine.” My voice exudes a strength I’m not feeling.
“We’ll meet you at the hospital reception,” DI Green says. “Then we’ve got a few more questions to ask you, if that’s alright?”
* * *
The bang wasn’t as loud as expected.
There was something,
but more like a bump in the road.
I got a bigger jolt from the stone I hit as I left him there.
A plan executed like clockwork.
Nearly.
Chapter 7
I slide into my Jeep. Thoughts of the day Rob bought it returning to haunt me. Well, I say he bought it. It was out of our savings, which mostly comprised of what remained of my inheritance. The new car was to celebrate getting my driving licence back after a three year driving ban. I had been three times over the limit.
I blink back tears as I reverse from the drive and make my way out of our cul-de-sac. All the neighbours, apart from Christina, probably think I’m off to collect Jack from school. I’m surprisingly calm as I leave the residential area and pull onto the country road. The air conditioning is blasting onto my face, freezing the tears I didn’t realise I was crying.
The radio station is tuned into Classic FM, probably from when Rob picked Jack up on Saturday. When life was normal. I imagine that this is how my life is about to become demarcated. Before and after. Rob and post Rob. Normality and well – I don’t know yet.
I imagine my husband cycling this route. Toned calves and biceps glistening in the sunlight, head down, legs pumping. I overtake a cyclist, taken aback at his similarity from the back to Rob. After I’ve passed, I feel compelled to check in my mirror that it’s not him. I’ve heard before that when someone dies, you see them everywhere.
I surprise myself at my ease of driving, especially on this road, after what’s happened. I should be more anxious. But I’m numb. Void. Like I’m not even here. But it’s an easier way to feel than what it could be.
Rob always felt safe when out cycling. Said he could handle anything. I was never the same on the odd time I went out on my bike with him. I felt out of control going down a hill, and as though I was going to die from lack of oxygen going up one. So cycling became something he did without me. Same with golf. I would rather watch paint dry. It was like that with most things, eventually. We hardly did anything together. We barely even ate together.
The air freshener swings from side to side as I bring the car to a halt at the end of a line of cars. I’ve arrived here in record time and can’t even recall my journey. There’s a sign ahead saying road closed and a snaking queue of vehicles turning around in the narrow road. As they turn in the opposite direction towards me, and the queue becomes shorter, I edge closer to the sign. Before long, I’m right in front of it. I get out of the car, poised to walk to the spot where whatever has happened, has happened. I need to see it.
“You can’t come through here love.” An officer springs from his patrol car that’s blocking the road after the sign. It’s so sunny that I didn’t notice the revolving blue lights. But I see them now, reflecting on his face as he reaches me. “There’s a crime scene back there.”
“A crime scene?” I stare at him. “What’s actually happened?”
“A fatal road traffic accident earlier today. This road will be closed for a while longer, I’m afraid. The crash investigation team are still doing what they need to.”
“Wasn’t it just an accident?” I ask. I feel sick. I realise I’ve not eaten anything since the toast, just after Mum and Jack left this morning. If I’m sick, it will just be bile. I swallow hard.
“That’s what they’re trying to establish.” Sweat rolls down the side of his head. “But for now, you’ll have to find another way through.”
“I need to see what’s happened.”
He gives me a strange look. “You can’t. I’m not letting anyone through. I’m not allowed.”
“But
