An interrupted journey

Joe travels this same road every day and has previously concluded that the distant power station is no longer operational. Today, the clouds hang low over the cooling towers, which causes him to look carefully and to re-examine the system, to check if his previous deduction could have been incorrect. Then his thoughts become excruciatingly slow, and they record every nuance when his attention is yanked to the instant that the child walks out from the roadside bushes, into the road in front of him - red coat, little girl’s face, tarmac, swerve, brakes, squeal and then the impact. He is still hearing the thud when he sits up in bed, trembling, his pyjamas wet with sweat.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Joe only half hears his wife and replies as if he is talking to himself; “I just killed a child! She walked out into the road!”

“It’s a bad dream! Go back to sleep!” She rolls over and she turns her back to him. He doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t normally remember his dreams, but this one is still vivid in his imagination: The defunct power station, the straight road, and the roadside shrubbery – he had never really noticed it before, but now he sees it clearly, every leaf every red berry and the spikes and the extended tangle of hawthorn and then the red coat. Now he sees the coat lying on the verge. The child is nowhere to be seen.

Joe shakes his head in disbelief as he climbs out of bed. He takes off his still wet nightwear, which he drops onto the floor. Then, he makes his way to the adjoining bathroom.

As he does his ablutions, he tries to work out what could have caused him to have such a horrific nightmare. The only think he can think of was the concoction of homemade sloe gin that he and his wife had enjoyed together. It had a unique taste, which at the time, they both thought had justified the nine months distilling itself under the stairs. Still, that didn’t explain the dream. Where had that come from? Why had it seemed so real?

Joe pricks his finger and applies blood to the strip of his blood monitor. The reading is normal, which is a relief. Whenever he has low sugar, he gets strange dreams. So, it must have been something else. Perhaps it had been the gin.

Back in the bedroom, the clock says four thirty-five, but he doesn’t feel sleepy. He takes his dressing gown from behind the bedroom door and slips it on as he quietly exits and makes his way down the stairs, towards the kitchen.

Five minutes later, he is sitting drinking instant coffee at the breakfast bar.

The picture of the child’s appearance and her impact with his car is branded on his mind. It stays with him through the several hours it takes for him to return upstairs, shower, dress himself, and then to toast and eat a cinnamon and raisin bagel for his breakfast.  His eyes watch the morning news without him listening to what the newscaster is saying. At six thirty he walks out to his vehicle ready to set off for work. His wife is still asleep when he eventually presses the start button and powers up his SUV.

Joe passes the sign that increases the speed limit up to fifty, then climbs the brow and bends left onto the straight stretch of road, which holds an outline of the power station, sitting on the horizon above it. He is travelling slowly this morning and notices everything: the entrance to the caravan park, the still green ears of corn in the field to his left, the derelict house set back, in the field on his right and then the hawthorn hedge, with green, brown and gold leaves. He has slowed almost to walking pace and several cars honk their horns impatiently and they pass him. Then he sees something - it isn’t red, it is black, and it is half hidden in the grassy slope in front of the hedge. Automatically, he stops, engages his hazards, and gets out of his car to approach and examine what is beneath the long grey hair that is instantly visible. Joe’s heart is racing as he crouches down checks to see if the old man is breathing and feels relief when he sees his eyes open a little.

“Did you fall? Are you okay?” As he asks the question, Joe glances around and sees several plastic bags and a supermarket trolley tipped on its side. “Did you wake me or a reason?” The gruff voice of the old man rasps out his question as he emerges from the black overcoat, that is wrapped around him.

Joe’s voice is warm; “I thought you might be injured! What do they call you? What is your name?” The old man struggles to his feet as he answers Joe’s question; “When I had friends, they called me Tim.”

Joe cannot resist asking, “have you seen a little girl with a red coat?”

The old man looks at him intently and is breathing deeply when he responds, “How did you know about Lillie?” The bond between Tim and Joe is set deep in that single instant. Still looking into the old man’s eyes, Joe replies; “Get your stuff into the back of my SUV and I’ll take you where you can get some breakfast.”

A half-hour has passed, and they are sitting in McDonald’s car park. Joe watches as Tim crams down his second breakfast burger and noisily swallows coffee from a plastic cup. Eventually, when Tim has finished, Joe collects the remains and takes them all to an adjacent refuse disposal station. When he gets back into the vehicle, Tim looks at him: “Lillie was my daughter when he moved in with my wife and they threw me out on the street. I lost everything!”

“Did you have a job?”

“My head was up my arse, and I couldn’t hold it down.”

A lump appears in Joe’s throat when he looks at Tim and he sees tears in the old man’s eyes. His response was automatic; “She wants to see you. I will take you home and get you cleaned up”

Late in the afternoon, they are sitting in the SUV, outside a house in the suburbs. Joe had ignored his wife’s protests, helped Tim get a shower, given him clothes and taken him to the barbers at the top of the high street. Now they were at the place Tim told him that Lillie was to be found.

“It has been twelve years! She won’t know me!” Tim says. As he speaks, the door opens and a young woman wearing long blonde hair and a red cape emerges and walks towards a car in the driveway. Joe gets out of the car and calls to her; “Lillie!”

The girl looks up at him and frowns; “Yes! Do I know you?”

“I have someone, that I know you would like to meet!” As he speaks, Tim opens the SUV door and stands to look at his beautiful daughter. Her mouth opens and her eyes go wide as she steps cautiously forward. Then, as she realises his identity, she rushes forward and hugs him, without inhibition.  “Dad! Dad! I have looked everywhere for you!”

Tears stream down her father’s face.

Joe smiles.