“Her husband’s car was recovered two days ago,” said detective Jean. “We will need her to identify the bodies when you discharge her doctor.”
The police took their leave immediately. Before long Diane’s mother walked into the hospital, supported by her walking stick. She walked slowly towards the reception.
“How may I help you ma’am?” asked the sweet lady behind the counter
“Diane,” said Mrs. Britz. “My daughter Diane was admitted here?”
“The lady with the missing husband?”
Mrs. Britz just froze in front of her. Her eyes turned all teary and her walking stick hit the ground more often.
“Somebody call the doctor!”
All voices rang in the backstage of Mrs. Britz’s mind. She felt so cold, but her blouse was drowning in sweat. Nurses came through and lifted her up. They rushed her to the ward and managed to stabilize her situation in no time.
Mrs. Britz explained to the doctor the reason of her visit to the hospital. They put her onto a wheelchair and took her to Diane.
Diane was shocked seeing her mother finally in a wheelchair.
Her health was deteriorating by the day. Wasn’t it too early for a wheelchair though? Diane couldn’t believe the sight of her weary eyes. “Ma!” she shouted.
“I told them I can walk, but they won’t let me.”
The nurse explained to Diane that her mother had a panic attack earlier. Apparently the receptionist was too poor with her choice of words. The reminder of Gregory’s unknown whereabouts sparked a plug inside Mrs. Britz’s old engine. Before she knew it, she blacked out and shut down temporarily. Poor old lady.
Later in the day Diane was discharged. She insisted on going to the scene where Gregory’s car was found. She stood there, in front of the tree. The people passing by said there were two people inside the car. A man and a woman.
Maybe the man was Gregory, what about the woman? Who was she and what was she doing there?
Unfortunately, the two were not there to answer any questions. They perished in the crash and were burnt beyond possible recognition. Judging from the shape of the car and the number plate that fell, Diane would confirm. It really was Gregory’s car. Wasted and never to be loved again.
What was there to love anymore. The love of her life was inside the same car. She cried even more. Mrs. Britz embraced her and encouraged her to cry as much as she could. She believed in letting it all out, rather than bottle it up.
To be continued…