5Oldtalesonce moreunwind, to beremade and retold

All deaths before time are brutal, changing worlds in an instant. The death of Alan, loving husband to Elaine and doting father of Eve, was no exception.

Eve lay on her bed, school jumper on over her pyjamas, homework open in front of her. She heard a sound, peculiar, unsettling, unrecognisable but clearly her mother. A burglar? A rat in the kitchen? Had she hurt herself? The scatter of homework slid to the floor, she darted to the door. Her breath thickened and shortened. She paused briefly at the top of the stairs; she was afraid to go down. Her mother was not alone. Who were these people? Why was Mum making such strange sounds, looking so wild? Eve was frozen for a moment by her mother’s terrible strangeness. But she knew her mother was in pain. Poor girl, she did not know how to help. She could not tell whether to plead for assistance from these other strangers or whether to block them out, make them go away.

She laid a hand so lightly on Elaine’s shoulder.

‘Mummy?’ The naming of young childhood came automatically. And then the terrible consequence of stepping into that room, the unbearable burden of being told, the confusion, the miserable pain, the devastating inability to help crashed over her. This moment cut and charred and broke within her time after time after time.

Later she learned the manner of its happening. On his way home from badminton, her father, Alan, slid sideways on a dual carriage way and into the buttress of an overpass. He received catastrophic injuries, but had made it to hospital. They would go now. Elaine was so wild-eyed that the officer insisted on slowing her. Eve grappled with ugly shards of understanding, confused about what her actions should be. What does catastrophic mean? Shall I bring his pyjamas? Will he die, Mummy? Shhh, where are the car… Quick Eve, get in.