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She beckoned me to go out to the front of the house.
I followed and she took me to the garage, opened the door and asked me inside the garage.
It was quite gloomy in the garage and looked as though it hadn't been used for years. In the center of the garage
was a shape I barely recognized under a quite heavy canvas sheet. She asked me to help her remove the canvas sheet
and I did. It came off with relative ease considering the weight of the canvas. Underneath was what was left of
a Morris Traveller. The front end was completely trashed and the roof seemed squashed somehow. I looked at the
back of the car where the number plate was. It was still broken and read UNE 560. To say I was shocked was an understatement.
I was pretty speechless and after a few - what seemed like minutes - I said, "how could this have happened
in only a few hours?".
She opened the car door on the passengers side. The car smelt very old and very damp, not like the previous night.
I watched her go to the glove compartment in the car and take out the familiar cover of the Penguin series books.
This one looked a little older than what I saw the previous evening. The book last night looked new, this one looked
a little worse for wear. She asked me where in the book did he rip out the corner from. I told her the last page
and she opened the book where I had described. She asked me for the piece of paper he ripped out of the book. I
handed it over and she carefully placed the torn out piece with what was left of the original page. It was an exact
match. The strange thing was, the piece of paper I had was predominantly whiter than the page she put against the
torn piece I was given last night.
Mrs Dawson then said something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She said it didn't happen
last night or this morning, but about 15 years ago on the 18th December 1953. She said it was a truck that hit
his car head on coming down the hill. He was just going to turn into the Crescent when an out of control haulage
wagon swerved and hit him head on. "He didn't stand a chance" they said.
He died in Hospital, he lived only a few hours after he was pulled from the car and taken by Ambulance.
She led me back into the house. Gave me a cup of tea and again asked me the story from the previous night. She
asked me how he looked and what he was wearing the previous night so I relayed to her what I perceived he was wearing
down to his work boots. "Those were the clothes he was dressed in when he was coming home from work just before
the accident" she said with a tear in her eye. Again I looked at the book, the Penguin Classic, the unmistakable
orange of the cover. I looked at the last page, the torn piece fitted exactly.
"Are you sure it was last night?" Mrs Dawson asked politely.
I explained about the course of events, how I had passed my test earlier in the day, how he took me to the garage,
how he paid for my……Just a minute, the guy at the Petrol Station, he can surely vouch for me and how I forgot my
wallet and how Gregory paid for the petrol. I'll go and ask him what he heard and saw. "Do you mind if I come
with you?" Mrs Dawson asked. "Of course you can" I said hurriedly, "let's go"
We both climbed into the Mini and set off for the Petrol Station. It was around 6:55pm when we arrived at the Petrol
station. I drove up to the entrance and a man came out and started to lock up the garage. "Sorry Mate ' he
said, "I'm locking up now, you can get some petrol at the Shell garage down the road if you like, but I'm
closing"
I asked him what time he was open until. He told me he always closed at 7pm every night. "But what about last
night….You were open till at least twelve o clock l;ast night" I added urgently.
"Naw, I haven't opened that late for at least ten years, not after my Brother died 'ave I opened that late,
I've nobody to look after the Garage now y' see, I don't trust any of them buggers runnin' my garage, I'd be ripped
off in no time"
I described the man who was behind the counter in an effort to gain back some of my credibility. "Aye, that
were 'im alright. He always wore that 'at and smokin' them smelly cigars, it were a wonder 'e didn't blow the place
up wi all them petrol fumes around"
He died probably fifteen years ago, just before Christmas as I remember. He was driving a truck not far away from
here. Police says his brakes failed, but I reckons he dropped his cigar and was tryin' to find it when he crashed
into this poor bloke going home after work. I said that smoking them bloody cigars would be the death of 'im!
I looked at the owner who said something like you have seen a ghost or something, but it didn't register. I was
too amazed and flabbergasted at what he said. Suddenly, I was brought back into reality as I was tapped on the
shoulder by the Garage owner.
"Did you hear what I said? How did you know my brother anyway, was he a friend of yours? I don't think you
would have known him around then, I suspect you were a bit too young then."
I nodded at him in a daze. What could I say - that I had seen him last night?
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