I know this road.
I’ve been up and down it the last seven years, blue lights and routine dawdle, am,
pm, any hour you like. I’ve hacked along through queues of backed-up commuters,
or flown through the early, empty hours. I’ve careened through rainstorms and idled
through sunshine. I’m so familiar with every bump, camber, dog-leg, slalom and
chicane you could blindfold me in the back and I’d be able to tell you exactly
where we were and how far there was to go. I know that on-coming traffic always
hesitates to pull over into the bus lane just here, so when I’m driving up the
hill through this section on the wrong side of the road I have to allow for the
fact that they won’t give me any room. I know I have to come wide at these
lights or I’ll get boxed in. I know I can drive as fast as the ambulance will
take on this stretch, but I’ll have to brake about now to get a reasonable line
through the roundabout and not tip everything out.
But this has come
through as a choking / cardiac arrest,
so I’m pushing it.
‘I’ll take my
stuff, you bring the green bag,’ says Rae, jumping out as we haul up outside
the address.
We hurry inside.
Luckily, the
elderly woman sitting on the sofa sipping from a mug of tea is about as far
from choking / cardiac arrest as it’s
possible to be.
‘I’m so sorry,’
she says. ‘I’ve no idea what happened.’
June’s daughter Rachel
tells us her mum had dozed off in front of the TV, and the next thing they knew
she was red in the face, coughing horribly and thrashing about. Rachel’s
husband had grabbed her and slapped her back whilst Rachel called 999, but the
whole thing seemed to pass as quickly as it started, with no harm done.
‘So there was no
food involved?’
‘No. We finished
supper hours ago.’
‘No boiled sweets
or anything like that?’
‘No. All I
remember was dozing off in front of Perriot.’
‘Perriot?’
‘You know. The
detective.’
We give her a
check-up, but everything seems fine.
‘Looks like you’re
all ready for Christmas,’ I say, packing away the kit whilst Rae finishes the
paperwork. ‘I like your Nativity scene.’
It’s a beautiful
thing – simply carved and painted, a loved family object, nicked and scuffed
through years of getting out and putting away again.
‘My grandfather made
it,’ she says, picking up a donkey and turning it round in her hands. I get the
feeling she’d put it to her nose and lips if we weren’t there. After a moment she
carefully puts it back, sighs and says:
‘I’m sorry to be a
nuisance.’
‘Don’t be silly,’
we all say, her daughter sitting down next to her on the sofa and giving her a
hug.
‘We’re just glad
you’re all right,’ says Rae, standing up ready to go.
‘I know, but still
– you must be so busy,’ says June. ‘You could do without people like me at
Christmas.’
‘Actually, you
know what, June? We could do with a few more. Happy Christmas!’
‘Happy Christmas!’
We pick up our bags, the
son-in-law shakes our hand, and shows us out.
2 comments:
I didn't realise Reggie Perrin was a detective Spence?
I think she meant Poirot! But maybe there's a detective set in the world of Commedia del Arte... :/
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