Copyright Oggbashan November 2020
Edited January 2021
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.
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It was Monday afternoon. I had just put my shopping away after a final trip to the supermarket before the Christmas rush when the doorbell rang.
It was my next door neighbour Megan. She had taken in a parcel for me while I was out. I thanked her but noticed she had been crying.
"What's wrong, Megan?" I asked.
"It's Albert, my father," she said. "He's had a stroke and has been admitted to hospital. They don't expect him to survive and I can't visit him."
"Why not?"
"You know I can't drive, Hugh, and even if I could, Alan needs the company van for work. I haven't got enough time to go to hospital by bus before collecting the children from school ..."
Megan had been disqualified from driving for six months. It was really Alan's fault. They had been to a party and he wasn't supposed to drink but his mates brought him some beers. When it was time to leave he was obviously incapable of driving. Megan thought she could but had been stopped by the police and had been slightly above the drink driving limit. She had been fined, had three points on her licence and a six month ban -- a minimal penalty for the offence but a nuisance.
"OK, Megan," I said. "I can take you to hospital if you want. OK?"
"That would great, Hugh, but it's too late for today."
"When are the visiting times?"
"Because he is in intensive care they are very restricted. Two to three in the afternoons and six to seven in the evening. I can't do the evenings. Alan isn't home until seven fifteen at the earliest. And the buses..."
Megan would have to change twice by bus and the journey might take more than an hour. I knew she couldn't afford taxis. They had moved next door, into a larger house for their two children, last year. Their mortgage was crippling.
"OK. Be here at half past one tomorrow. I'll take you there and back."
"Thank you, Hugh. Could Angela come as well?"
"Of course."
Angela is Megan's divorced older sister. She is a senior teacher at the local primary school. She lives in a very small terraced house about half a mile away. She was divorced two years ago from George. I had always thought George was an asshole who didn't appreciate what a good woman he had.
"Do you want me to collect Angela?"
"No need, Hugh. She's taken a few days' leave and is having lunch with me tomorrow. My driving ban has affected her too. She was having driving practice with me. Now she can only do that with Alan at weekends. She failed her test again two weeks ago."
"Why this time?"
"It's the same reason as before - lack of confidence. George really destroyed her and even two years later she's still a nervous wreck."
I swore under my breath. I had known George was an asshole but I hadn't thought he had been that bad.
"OK, Megan. See you tomorrow at one thirty, with Angela. And for the day after? A little earlier and we'll collect Angela on the way."
"You're sure?"
"Of course, Megan. That's what neighbours are for and I haven't got anything else to do."
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When Megan had gone I had a thought. After she had been disqualified they had sold their car which had been an older medium size Ford. But when her disqualification expired her car insurance premium would be high for the first year. They wouldn't be able to afford to insure a reasonable size car. But in my garage, off the road for five years, was my wife Rachel's old Citreon 2 CV. Megan might be able to insure a classic small engine car like that. I rang my car mechanic and asked him to see if he could get the 2CV running and pass its roadworthiness test. He thought that should be easy. It had been serviced and had been in good running order when put in the garage. He would come with a trailer tomorrow morning and thought, if feasible, I would have it back ready for use by next Monday.
I went online and looked for quotations for insuring the 2CV in my name with Megan, once she had her licence back, as a named driver. As an afterthought I added Angela as a learner driver as well. Adding Angela didn't increase the quotes. It was Megan's disqualification that increased the premium by about 100% on a quote for me alone. Even so, because the 2CV was so old and slow, the premium wasn't excessive. I could easily afford it. But first I had to have the 2CV roadworthy.
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My mechanic collected the 2CV in the morning. He had to jump start it because the battery was flat but he was able to drive it on the trailer.
At half past one Megan and Angela arrived on my doorstep. They both hugged me. I enjoyed that. They were quiet on the way to the hospital, not knowing how their father would be. I parked in the hospital's expensive car park about five minutes to two. They left and I settled down to catch up on some magazine reading. They returned about ten past three, looking slightly happier.
"How is Albert?" I asked.
"Not well," Angela replied. "He is paralysed down his right side and has difficulty talking. But he recognised us and was very pleased to see us. However the nurses think he has only a few days left. He could go at any time. We've told him we will be back tomorrow afternoon to which he replied 'I'll be here'. Whether he will be? We don't know. But he has no pain and seems resigned to dying soon."
I drove them back. Megan invited me in for a cup of tea. I spent some time talking to the sisters about their memories of their father. Megan asked me to stay with Angela while she went to get the children. As soon as Megan had gone, Angela sat on my lap and would her arms around my neck before kissing me very effectively.
When she let me breathe I asked "Why?"
Angela pulled back in looked me straight in the face.