Copyright Oggbashan October 2015
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Minor revision 30 October 2015
I was shaking so much as I put the phone down that I collapsed onto the settee. I didn't believe it. It couldn't be true, yet the Coroner's Clerk had been very explicit.
My husband Jack had driven to the station that evening to collect our friend Rita. Normally her husband Frank would have gone, but he had been delayed at work. He had to ask if Jack or I could collect Rita. I was in the middle of making a casserole, so Jack went.
A small favour for friends had ended in tragedy. As Jack waited at a red traffic light our car had been hit head-on by a panel van driven by Dwayne, a drunk and drugged car thief, trying to escape the pursuing police cars. Jack and Rita had died instantly, as had Dwayne.
I knew our car had video recording. I was surprised that Jack had turned it on for such a short trip. He had, and the recording would be shown at the inquest into the three deaths.
The Coroner's Clerk had asked me to come to the Coroner's Office tomorrow morning. She wanted me, and Frank, to see the video before it was played in the court room. The sound recording apparently indicated that Jack and Rita had been in a longstanding relationship and had been arguing about whether to divorce their spouses or to end the affair.
Although their audible argument was irrelevant to their deaths, the video was vital evidence. The Coroner wanted us to know exactly what was on the record before the public and Press heard it. He had asked his Clerk to telephone Frank and I so that we could hear it together.
I was about to get up to make myself a cup of strong coffee when the phone rang again. It was Frank.
"Megan? Did the Coroner's Clerk ring you?"
"Yes, Frank. I don't believe it. I would have known. Jack couldn't have kept that from me for so long."
"Nor Rita from me. Jack and Rita were friends, just as you and I are. There was nothing more. But..."
"If that recording is played the Press will spread it everywhere."
"They will, Megan. What are we going to do?"
"Listen to it first, tomorrow morning, and then see whether it is as bad as the Clerk made it sound. Perhaps she and her boss are misinterpreting?"
"I don't think she would have contacted us if there was any doubt, Megan. But, like you, I can't believe it. Do you want a lift tomorrow?"
"Yes please, Frank. The insurance company hasn't replaced the car yet. I should get one early next week."
"OK, Megan. I'll collect you at ten thirty."
"Thank you, Frank. I'll be waiting outside."
My hands were shaking as I made the coffee. I was reliving the night of the crash. Everything had seemed so normal. It was a foul evening, raining hard. When Frank rang we couldn't see any problem with collecting Rita. I had a casserole nearly ready to put in the oven for our evening meal. I could have turned the oven down if Rita's train was delayed.
Jack gave me a peck on the cheek as he left.
"See you soon," he said.
Those three words were my last memory of him.
When he hadn't returned within half an hour I just thought Rita had invited him in for a coffee. Why not? All four of us are friends.
But two hours later at nine pm? I rang their house. There was no reply. I rang Jack's mobile. Nothing. Rita's mobile? No response. I rang Frank who was just leaving his office to collect his car to drive home. He too had tried to ring Rita to say he was on his way and had got no response on their landline or her mobile. Neither of us thought there was anything wrong even if we were slightly annoyed that they hadn't told us there would be a delay.
A quarter of an hour later my life was in ruins. The policewoman at the door didn't need to say anything. Her arrival was enough. I knew Jack was dead. She tried to explain that Jack had been in a car accident.
"And Rita?" I asked.
"Rita died too. I'm sorry." She said.
Frank rang while the policewoman was still there. She spoke to him. I didn't listen. I wasn't hearing anything except an echo of Jack's last words 'See you soon'. But I wouldn't. I'd never see Jack alive again.
Frank arrived within minutes. The policewoman explained that Jack's car had been hit while stationary at a red traffic light. There was nothing Jack could have done. There was a heavy truck behind his car, railings to his left and right and traffic crossing in front of him. The panel van had come through a gap in the crossing traffic to hit Jack and Rita head on.
Frank and I huddled together, as close as we could. We had lost the loves of our lives. We cried together long after the policewoman had gone.
We ate that casserole together. Frank had intended to order a takeaway meal when he got home. I could almost hear Jack saying 'That's my practical Megan. You both need to eat.'
That night I had felt Jack in the bed beside me. I almost turned over to ask for a cuddle but I knew he wasn't really there. His presence was, calming and soothing, but my real Jack had gone forever.
Over the next few days we learned more. Dwayne was on probation and on bail awaiting trial for more offences. He had a substantial quantity of drugs in the van which possibly explained why he tried to get away from the police. The impact speed had been between eighty and ninety miles per hour. Jack's car was mangled beyond recognition. So were Jack and Rita. Frank identified Rita's inscribed wedding ring. I identified Jack's ring and wristwatch which had a serial number.
Since that night I seemed to feel Jack's presence around the house. He seemed to be trying to comfort me. Sometimes I saw him out of the corner of my eye, occupying his favourite armchair. When I looked directly, he wasn't there. I heard his last three words 'See you soon' very often. Yet had he been betraying me with Rita, my best friend? I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. If it were true, the last decade of my life had been built on a lie.
Frank and I were together most of the time. Why not? We were sharing the grief and the mundane practicalities of dealing with sudden deaths. All four of us had been friends since we started the same school as infants. We hadn't quite married the partner from next door but apart from university we had lived within a few hundred yards of each other.
The initial inquest was hard. I thought I would find facing Dwayne's family impossible. Dwayne had killed my husband. But his parents, his wife and his young children were as shocked and saddened as we were. I couldn't blame them for what Dwayne had done.
The night after the inquest Jack's presence was even more palpable. I felt his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head, as he used to do when I was washing up. Yet I was lying in my lonely bed.
Could I believe that Jack and Rita had been illicit lovers? Friends? Yes, they were. We were, all four of us. Lovers? The Clerk's phone call had given me instant doubts but it seemed impossible. Jack had loved me and showed his love daily, as I had for him. Rita and Frank were as inseparable as we had been. I had trusted Jack. Damn it! I still trusted Jack.
I cried in bed that night. I could hear Jack whispering in my ear. 'Don't be silly, Megan. I loved you. You know I did. I still do.'
By the morning I was convinced that whatever that recording sounded like, the scenario was impossible. There must be an explanation, but Jack and Rita arguing about ending an affair? No. That couldn't be true. Apart from anything else when could they have had an affair? Apart from at work both couples were together almost all the time, inseparable. An affair would need missing periods of time. There weren't any.
Frank felt the same. He had trusted Rita and could think of no time that she could have been alone with Jack long enough for an affair between them. Both of us were convinced that the Coroner and the Clerk were misled.
The video was a shock. The Clerk had edited a copy from the time that Jack approached the red light and came to a halt to a few seconds before the impact. The video was clear. Jack had been driving sensibly and had stopped at the red light steadily.
But the sound? Rita was shouting at Jack about their affair, asking him to decide between her and me, reminding him that he had repeatedly said he would divorce his wife and run away with her.
Jack's responses didn't ring true. If what Rita was saying was real I would have expected Jack to protest, to argue. His voice was almost flat and unemotional as if it was nothing to do with him.
The Clerk showed us how to re-run the recording and left us alone to consider it. Frank and I played it several times.
"I can understand why the Coroner is concerned," Frank said. "Rita sounds as if she is genuinely upset, but your Jack? Was he OK when he left you? He sounds as if he isn't wholly with it. If Rita's accusations were true, Jack..."
"...should have been angry," I interrupted. "He isn't. He might be dictating a shopping list."
