Judy’s Present?

 Judy’s Present?  

John Abbott 

I accelerated away from the drive and almost immediately concluded that my senses were not exactly what I'd call bloody perfect at the moment. I'd had a few pints already, I didn't really want to climb into the car, but I didn't have much choice, did I?

 

Judy had phoned about ten minutes ago. All she'd said was that her Dad was in hospital and that he'd been hurt in a car accident. I always had thought he was a soppy bastard; now I was certain. He'd probably had too many beers, climbed in the motor and half-way up the road realised that he couldn't handle it. And ironically enough, here was I, Mister hypocrite himself, slagging off her Dad for driving under the sodding influence whilst I continued the festive trend. Still, as I told myself before, didn't have much choice, did I?

 

The lights of London's East-End sparkled and twinkled outside as I sped up the Barking road. I glanced at my watch; twenty past eight, good job it was a pretty straight run, eh? I reminded myself to concentrate harder. I realised that I'd had a drink but, at the same time, I didn't want to over-compensate. Five minutes more and I should be at the Hospital, down to the Greengate, turn left at the lights, then up and over the hill, down Prince Regents lane and I'd be there. Christ knows whether Judy meant that George would actually still be in Casualty. I'd just have to hunt around for him, wouldn't I?

 

As I began to dip over the hill in Prince Regents lane, I suddenly realised. Shit !, I still hadn't got Judy's Christmas present and only one more day left. Sod that !, shopping for her present on Christmas Eve, and I was hoping to go and have a drink with the lads at work. Oh well, " C'est la vie", as they say.

  

I slowed down rapidly, changed down into second and turned left up to Newham General Hospital. Fortunately I knew I wouldn't be allowed to park right outside Casualty, so I swerved gently left again into the car park, silently hoping for a clear parking spot not too far from Casualty. Some chance! Twenty-third of December and the hospital car park was chokka! A couple of minutes later I found a spot a good five to six hundred yards from Casualty. Sod it ! I pulled up, parked and jumped out into the cold night air. Christ ! its harry and willy out here I thought, as I jogged towards Casualty. I slowed to a walk as I approached the automatic doors. Swish - I stepped inside. The warm interior was a big contrast to the cold outside. I went to the admission window and enquired after George.

 

" George Mansfield ?, car accident ? I don't know much else luv. Sorry."

" Yes, sorry, er, who are you ? " was the response." Son-in-law luv."

"Oh, I see. Turn left, then right and ask one of the nurses - O.K? "

 

"Cheers, luv." and I strolled off to find Judy and her Dad. Left, right and I was just about to ask a nurse when I heard Judy's voice. I took three steps forwards and poked my head around the cubicles edge.

 

" John!!" was her tearful word.

 

"Hello, love. How is he?" Stupid question, I thought - she was crying. Can't be good, can it?

 

" Its bad John," she said, "They don't think he's going to make it."

Christ, I thought, that's a bastard, at Christmas as well. I hugged her, as she cried gently on my shoulder. I couldn't believe it. We sat down, and whilst I held her hands to calm her, she looked deeply at me and began to tell me what she knew about the accident.

"John, all Dad kept saying was - I had to swerve, I had to swerve."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she recounted what her father had told her. Apparently, there had been a group of people crossing the road, following a man holding a lantern. This was what George had had to swerve around and he had ploughed head first into the stream of oncoming traffic. It all seemed a little odd... Fanciful, almost. Alcohol? Who knows.

 

A nurse arrived with bad news. George was dead. Judy cried but seemed in control - I mean she wasn't hysterical or anything like that. Me?... I was just sad. Sad for her, sad for George. I hadn't known him that well but he seemed a good enough old soul.

Judy said she wanted to see her Dad once more. I felt she needed to be alone, so we decided she would stay at the hospital and pick up George's personal effects while I tried to get the copper's name, and a bit more info. I said I would drive home, make a few calls, then come and pick Judy up when she was ready.

 

I found our friend the policeman vainly trying to enjoy a cup of vending machine tea. I explained who I was and he told me the few facts he had. Indeed, George had an excess level of alcohol in his bloodstream when he died. Apparently, he claimed to have seen a group of people in fancy dress or similar holding mock pikes and muskets etc crossing the road ahead of him. One man dressed almost monk-like and carrying a lantern had suddenly appeared and tried to wave him down. George didn't have time to stop. He had swerved, to avoid him, hence the head-on collision with the oncoming traffic. The copper said that no witnesses had seen the group in fancy dress, and, as it had occurred less than a hundred yards from the Denmark Arms in East Ham, there would have been plenty of people about because the pub had opened only a few minutes before. Although I was obviously greatly saddened by George's death, I couldn't suppress a passing thought about drink-driving: We ought to be thankful that no-one else had been hurt badly. The fact that I'd been drinking earlier crossed my mind. The thought made me feel a little queasy.

I left the hospital, and feeling the cold night air again on my way to the car, I thought to myself, don't feel so bad now eh?

I climbed into the car, backed out of the car park, and headed home. Out onto Prince Regents lane, right at the Greengate and then a pretty straight run home down the Barking Road. The accident and George's vision struck me as a little strange as I approached East Ham. The Denmark Arms is a large pub. I passed it, on my left. 

" Oh my God !! " I couldn't believe my eyes.

I swerved left to avoid the man with the lantern and everything went black ...

 

EPILOGUE

"Mrs Austin, Judy Austin?, there's been an accident."

Judy replied "I know, I've been here for hours."

The nurse lowered her voice "No!, Judy, its your husband."

 

 

Copyright John Abbott  1,188 words   Circa 1980’s