Copyright Oggbashan December 2020
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.
I had been celebrating New Year with my friends at a city centre public house. I had drunk excessively and the night air had affected me so much that I was weaving drunkenly down the road to my city centre basement flat. My friends, who lived in a suburb, had been collected by a long-suffering father with his MPV.
Two years ago, on New Year's Eve, I had been hit by a drunk driver even though I was on the pavement. Fortunately for me, the impact had been at slow speed but it took weeks for the bruises to fade and almost the whole of January had been painful.
Last year, even though I was wearing a hi-vis jacket with reflective stripes, I had to jump out of the way of another drunk driver. This year I was wearing a head band with a bright light at front and a flashing red light behind. Around my upper body I had a string of battery-operated fairy lights. I hoped the lights would protect me for the couple of hundred yards I had to walk.
But apart from the passing police cars with their blues flashing, and ambulances, all the other drivers seemed as drunk as ever. They were weaving all over the roads, going much faster than the 20 mph limit, and a menace. I stayed as close to shop fronts as I could. It didn't help that the night was foggy with that sort of fine wetting rain that doesn't seem much but soaks everything.
I had about fifty yards to go when I spotted another walker ahead of me. I thought it might be female. It was slight and wearing an ankle-length black padded coat with the hood up. It, or she, was weaving even more than I was. We were on a one-way street walking in the direction that would traffic would take, but the pavements were very narrow.
Suddenly the person tripped over a kerb and fell into the road and stayed there unmoving. The body was in the shadow of a bus shelter and almost invisible. Despite the risk to myself, because I was lit up like a Christmas tree, I stepped into the middle of the road. Any vehicle coming must surely see me and stop even if they couldn't see the person on the ground.
I staggered towards the body. The person was groaning but making no attempt to get up. I picked her up, now I could see it was a her, and slung her across my shoulder in a fireman's lift. She wasn't heavy but my balance was impaired. I made it to my basement flat, grateful that a previous occupant had installed a ramp so it could be accessed by wheelchair. I staggered into my living room and put the woman down on my settee. She was still moaning but not really aware of her surroundings. She had a black handbag slung across her body. I opened it to see if I could find out who she was.
There was an envelope immediately obvious. It had been opened. I pulled out the contents to find a receipted bill for a small credit card amount. But it took me a few seconds to register that the address was familiar. It was my sister's house. The addressee was a Miss Anita Jones at my sister's house.
My sister and her two friends, Carol and Susan, had been buying the house near the university for the past five years since they started at university. It had been slightly cheaper than renting because the three women's parents had provided a significant deposit. They had all graduated and were working locally but they had been renting two bedrooms to university students. Presumably, Anita was a current tenant.
When I had gone out this evening I had emptied my pockets except for my house keys and cash. My mobile phone was on charge. There had been several recent street muggings and New Year's Eve would be a likely time for more so I had taken the minimum. Even if I had had my mobile phone with me, I wouldn't have rung for an ambulance for Anita. They would have been very busy and the ER department would have been full of aggressive drunks.
I tried to arouse Anita but she was too far gone. I brought a plastic bucket and moved a coffee table close to the settee. On the table I put a plastic jar of water and a disposable plastic glass with two aspirin tablets in their foil wrap.
I went into the kitchen, picked up my mobile and rang my sister Janis.
"What do you want at this time of night, George?" She asked.
I could tell she had been drinking. Her words were nearly as slurred as mine. She and her fellow householders had planned a quiet women-only New Year's party.
"Have you got a tenant called Anita?" I asked. I had to repeat myself. My voice was so indistinct.
"Yes, George, why?"
"I found her lying in the road near my flat, Janis. She is even drunker than me so I brought her home."
"Oh shit! She's supposed to be with her boyfriend tonight. There was no one else around?"
"No. She was alone, lying in the roadway."
"I can't do anything. Neither can the others. We've all drunk too much to drive."
"So have I..."
"I can tell, George."
"I won't be able to drive probably all day tomorrow, Janis. I suppose, if she recovers, I could call a taxi in the morning."
"But until then, you'll look after Anita? And not take any liberties?"
"Janis! You should know your brother better than that! I don't assault unconscious women, or even women who are unable to consent."
"Sorry, George. I'm worried. Why was Anita on her own, and that drunk? She should have been with her boyfriend and safe, not lying in a road."
"I know. I can't get any answers out of her. She is just about conscious some of the time, but couldn't tell me anything."
"How about a hospital?"
"I'd rather not. I think she's just drunk and you know what the hospital will be like tonight. I'm in no state to defend her or even to look after myself in a crowded ER facility full of drunks."
"I think you are probably right. That's why we were having a quiet party at home. Please look after her and ring me tomorrow morning -- not early. We'll all be suffering tomorrow morning."
"So will I, Janis, but possibly not as bad as Anita. There's not much of her and she's drunk far too much."
"OK, George. Please look after Anita. She's not just our tenant. She's our friend."
"Will do, Janis, as far as I am able to when I'm this drunk. I'll make myself some black coffee even if I think I'm too far gone for that to have much effect."
"Thank you, George, for Anita. Hear from you tomorrow."
Janis rang off. I started making the coffee and went to check on Anita. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I brought a few blankets from the bedroom and covered her. I would have liked to take her coat off her but it seemed to have stopped the rain penetrating, so I left it. Apart from disturbing Anita, I wasn't sure I had the manual dexterity to ease her out of the coat. Even making the coffee was at the limit of my abilities.
I hung up my wet coat in the hall. I went back into the sitting room and sat in an armchair facing Anita. I sipped the coffee before wrapping myself in another blanket and settling down for the night.
+++
Something woke me up about four am. It took me a few minutes to become aware of where I was. I could see blue lights even through the curtains. I peered out. A car had crashed into the bus shelter, demolishing it. There was an ambulance and several police cars. Vaguely I thought, if I was capable of thought, that if Anita had still been in the road she would have been killed. I shut the curtains again.
Anita was stirring and mumbling something. I went across and knelt down beside her.
"What is it?" I asked.
It took Anita three attempts before I understood she needed the toilet. I helped her up and into the bathroom. I heaved her long coat out of the way before lowering her jeans and panties. I had to wipe her. Her hands were useless. I tried to dress her again. While I was propping her up she adjusted her panties.
"You're not very good at putting panties back on," she slurred.
"I haven't had much practice -- except at taking them off," I retorted. I could hear that my speech was nearly as slurred as hers.
"Come on, Anita," I said, "back to the settee."
"You know who I am?" Anita asked.
"Yes, Anita."
