each passing second, and Judy was becoming more and more anxious. Surely Bruce would have rung home if the car had broken down or he’d bumped into an old friend?
When she heard a car pull onto the driveway, Judy breathed a sigh of relief and waited for the sound of the key in the door. However, after what seemed like an eternity there was still no familiar voice calling out to her. Unable to wait any longer, Judy rose from the sofa and headed for the hallway. She hadn’t even made it into the passageway when she heard the front door bell ring.
“What’s up, forgot your key again?” Judy laughed as she reached hold of the handle to open the door. She unknowingly took a step back when she opened the door to see two uniformed persons standing there.
“Are you Mrs. Judy Simpson, wife of Bruce Simpson?” inquired the male uniformed stranger, as he removed his hat.
“Yes, that’s me. What’s happened, tell me what’s happened?” cried out Judy, noting that they were uniformed police officers.
The audible panic was rising in Judy’s voice, as the female officer with the short cropped hair stepped forward and took hold of Judy’s arm gently.
“Would you mind if we came, Mrs. Simpson?” asked the female in a soft spoken voice, “we really do need to talk to you.”
Judy opened the door wide and stood back from the doorway to allow the two strangers to enter her home. She hadn’t asked for ID, but something in their faces told her this was no ruse. They were here because something serious had happened; she’d seen it countless times in TV dramas and movies, but this was no drama this was for real.
“Just along there, first door on the left,” Judy pointed along the hallway.
Closing the front door quietly, so as not to wake the children Judy took a large gulp and followed the officers into the living room. Quickly inviting the officer’s to take a seat, she noticed that after the female tapped the other officer on the arm she pointed to the family portrait above the fireplace. The two officers then nodded to each other but didn’t say a word. After a moments silence the burly male officer cleared his throat and began.
“Perhaps you had better sit down, Mrs. Simpson.”
“No, I don’t want to sit down,” Judy whimpered. Every time a policeman said those words, on TV, they gave someone devastating news. Perhaps if she remained standing, Judy thought, then she wouldn’t receive devastating news.
“I really do think it would be better if you sat down,” the officer repeated, but this time with more insistence in his voice.
Realizing that remaining standing was simply delaying the inevitable, Judy perched herself on the edge of the seat and waited for the bombshell to drop.
“Your husband was involved in a serious road accident earlier this evening.”
Without knowing it Judy was soon blurting out the same old stuff she’d heard time and time again in those works of fiction.
“Where is he; what hospital is he in; is he seriously hurt?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simpson, but your husband is dead.”
“No, it’s not possible, he can’t be. I’ve cooked lamb casserole, it’s his favorite. Sophie’s school Christmas concert is next week, she’s performing a solo. Bruce is really looking forward to going to it; we’ve got the tickets and everything. No, I’m sorry but you’ve made a mistake.”
The shock was hitting her hard and now she was rambling. Her mind was racing; how would she tell the kids, they worshipped their father.
“Is there someone we could call to come and sit with you?” asked the young female officer whose eyes were now glazed with tears.
Silently Judy tried to gather her thoughts. Could she call Elaine? No, her kids would be in bed and she couldn’t bother them at this time of night. Could she call her mother? No, that was out of the question. Although Judy loved both of her parents with all her heart, her mother was no good in a crisis. She’d just run around
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley