The Shared Drive

I lived in an "older" part of the village, which for us locals that meant the houses which were built in the 1960's, not Victorian old. There were older houses, by which I mean from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries; but they were in the very centre of the village itself and also dotted along the wandering roads that connected us to the other small hamlets outlying the centre. We were in a small estate of 3 bedroomed semi-detached houses, where the alternate half's of the semi's shared a drive.

A narrow one car concrete passageway between the semi's separated the two units. We each had a garage at the end of the driveway, but they were now too small to accommodate even a small modern car. A Smart Car would still scrape the sides as it went in. They had therefore become a place to store "Stuff". This is the detritus and overflow of twenty first century family living. Ladders, steps, paints, weedkiller, sprays, children's outdoor toys, rubbish awaiting recycling; wood, leftover from projects, or disassembled from old furniture which might find a use sometime in the future, that sort of thing.

We had been here for nearly thirty years, raising our children and moving from not quite newlyweds through parenting including children's taxiing, teenage ferrying and University fee payments to very early retirement. We had enjoyed good holidays and great breaks away. We had memories stretching back through four decades and further. We met at school and married as my wife left University. Two quick moves later and here we were. Here we settled and made our home. Children followed this two and four years later.

They were now both married and moved away. Pursuing their own dreams, making their own memories, it's what we brought them up to do. We saw them regularly when they set up their own homes, less so now than when they first married, but we don't complain.They would be building their own lives and making memories with their children, when they arrived. I only have my own memories recently, since being left alone. My wife losing her battle with an aggressive cancer 3 years ago, leaving me bereft and alone. I have good friends and family and they have helped me through that disastrous initial phase and my attempts at adjustment to life alone.

We have what I thought of as new neighbours; actually they have been here eighteen months, but I rarely see them. I know the husband was there only temporarily, my neighbour, who shares the semi block with them, says that he walked out about a year ago, before which for many months there had been nightly shouting and door slamming. The sound proofing was good but not brilliant.

There remained a girl of anywhere between fourteen to sixteen, we knew that because she wore the local comprehensive school uniform; white blouse, navy jumper, grey skirt or trousers, white socks and black shoes, if she were older and in the sixth form then there was no uniform, it would be blouses or t shirts and jeans with trainers. She lived with the mother, a women who I had said hello to a few times on the driveway, or as she parked, or I parked, on the hardstanding on the frontage by our main doors.

She seemed pleasant enough, although I must admit I hardly knew how to describe her. Probably around mid to late forties. I knew she was dark haired and about average height, I seem to recall she was quite slim, a tennis player I thought. I've no idea if that was fact or fiction on my part. Conversation was patchy even abrupt; hello, good morning, nice day, bit of a breeze today, everything all right, sort of thing.

One afternoon I was pretending to need to have to go shopping, just so I could accidentally run into someone I knew, desperate for human contact. I had become quite lonely I realised and often felt the need to just phone a friend or engineer a "chance" meeting at the local shops. Time for a coffee and a chat, dragging it out for an hour or more, until they made excuses, desperate to get away. I was out on the front step locking my door when the girl came rushing onto the driveway, wild eyed and crying, her phone shaking in her hand. She saw me and lurched over to me, tears streaming down her face.

"Mr Nottingham, Mr Nottingham, help me please!" she pleaded, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards her house. "It's my mum, she's taken an overdose, I phoned for an ambulance but I don't know what to do, please help me." I felt myself dragged along by the sheer force of her will. I was suddenly into the house and tumbling upstairs towards the master bedroom. She yelled for her mother and pulled me into the room. On the bed lay her mother, unearthly white, flat on her back arms by her side, a collection of pill bottles and packets by her side. As we entered she murmured, so at least she was still alive. I looked at her and told her daughter that we need to get her onto her side, into the recovery position.

We needed to do this as soon as possible to prevent her inhaling her own vomit if she started to be sick. I went to the far side of the bed and kneeled my way across the bed and asked her to pull her mothers arm gently as I pushed her from behind. We succeeded almost at once and I asked her to loosen her mums clothing; her blouse, skirt and to keep her eye on her as I heard the two tone horns of the ambulance arriving. Scuttling down stairs, I walked out as the ambulance pulled up at the kerbside.

A paramedic was opening the passenger door even before the engine died. I confirmed the address and pointed to the open door, briefly trying to explain what appeared to have happened, he grabbed two large bags and headed in, his colleague appearing round the drivers side with similar sized bags. He ran past me to catch his colleague. I turned inside after them and walked upstairs.

The girl was trying to explain how she found her mother and how long it had been since she found her. Tears were coursing down her cheeks as she answered their questions, her body shaking with fear. Knowing there was little I could do, instinctively I went to shield the child, placing an arm round her shoulder and pulling her to my side; just to let her know someone cared. Her arm came to my side and she turned her head to rest it against my side. I could feel her shaking as she watched them examine her mother.

I felt it best to remove her, although I knew her instinct was to remain with her mother. I gently took her out and downstairs heading for where the kitchen was situated. I asked had she eaten lately. She had a sandwich at lunchtime she confirmed. I offered to make her another but she was adamant that she wasn't hungry. I asked her to have a drink, was she a tea drinker or was coffee her poison? She half laughed and said water or squash was all she drank. I pottered around to look for likely hiding places and finally found several bottles of squash in a cupboard. I read out the labels, she asked for apple and pear. I found a glass and made her a drink, watching as she sipped it and relaxed.

The Paramedic appeared and said they were ready to transfer the woman to hospital, and were taking all the boxes and bottles with them to help the Emergency Team to work out the best course of action. He said that they had given her adrenaline to help offset the tablets she'd taken, and expected to have her at the hospital within fifteen minutes. Regrettably they couldn't take the girl, but I said that was ok, as I would organise the trip to hospital and accompany her. She was quite upset about the ambulance men not allowing her to accompany her mother to hospital with them, but accepted that I would take her along as soon as I could. The two men carried her mother downstairs on a stretcher, her hands inside the webbing straps which held her within the body of the stretcher.

Her face was pale and sweat beads stood out on her forehead. She was still and her breathing was barely registering, it was so shallow. As they popped her in the back the paramedic hooked up a drip and fed a cannula into the back of her wrist, attaching it to the fluid bag on a stand also attached to her stretcher. He popped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and pressed the bag a few times to start it, as he attached a cylinder of air to the tube snaking down. He stood, gave a thumbs up and pulled the doors shut, closing off the interior. With a skirl of the horns and the flashing blue lights flickering against the houses along the road, they disappeared at speed to the junction with the main road into the large town, where the hospital was based.

I pulled the girl to me and took her back into the house, ensuring everything was secure watching as she stepped out and locked the door. I had my car keys and so took her to the car, popping the locks as we walked the fifteen feet to it. She stepped into the passenger side and secured her seatbelt, as I switched the engine on and pulled my belt into it's seating. Reversing off the drive, I followed the route the ambulance took to the hospital. I could see how tense she was and despite the triteness trotted out the standard phrases; she'll be okay, it'll be fine, she's got an excellent chance of recovery, they're extremely good at the hospital. She nodded along with my phrases, as her hands wrapped and unwrapped themselves in her lap.

She was no longer crying, but she clearly was extremely upset and anxious.

The traffic was its usual helpful self, blocking a smooth passage and we took nearly thirty minutes to find the car park and a further fifteen minutes finding a parking space. Nearly an hour after watching her mother whisked away, we finally made it too Accident and Emergency. The girl stated her mother's name and they checked the list of new patients. Noting her age they asked if her father was available, she snorted and said we were unlikely to see him this side of hell freezing over. I knew it had been a bitter and unpleasant divorce from my neighbours, but it clearly still hurt this poor young girl. I placed my arm round her shoulder and held her close. Her frail and shaking body moved to me and again her arm found its way around me.

I explained I was a neighbour and that as far as I was aware there were no other family members around. I asked if they could give me any information, but as I was not family that was also not a possibility. Eventually we were told that she had been admitted and was in a ward. They checked and said that she had stabilised and was expected to recover, although she remained in an acute situation. It was very unlikely that she would be allowed visitors that evening, so it would be best to phone tomorrow morning after ten, to check on progress. I offered my number as an emergency contact and reluctantly took my small charge back to my car. We sat in the car and she began to shake and cry again. Reaching over I pulled her into a hug and just let her release herself.

After a while she gave a huge sigh and set about fixing her tear stained face, wiping her school jumper sleeve across it and sniffing. I found a clean handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. She nodded as she used it to wipe her face and blow her nose. She offered it back in return, then a small giggle came out as she saw my face as I move away from the proffered rag. Grinning, she scrunched it up and popped it into her sleeve, a curiously old fashioned gesture, I noted. I grinned and took her hand, and carefully folded mine around it. She whispered a thank you and sat looking at me expectantly.

"This is going to sound very sad, but I know you know my name, but for the life of me I can't seem to recall either your name or your mum's. I'm really sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what they are." I raised my eyes in a 'what a stupid old man he is," look and she grinned again.

"It's ok, it's all been a bit fraught hasn't it. I'm Esme and my mum's Claire."

"Of course it is, thank you. Well Esme, we can't sit all night here, can we?"

"I suppose not, I don't really want to go home to that house though."

It was a flat statement, bereft of any energy or intonation; I nodded at her words.

"Okay, how about this. I have two spare bedrooms, with beds and everything. You can go back to your house, pick up what you need for overnight and tomorrow and stay at my place. Now I'm very aware that this might seem strange and creepy, so as an alternative, you can sleep in your own bed and I'll sleep on the couch in your lounge. How does that sound?"

"Strange and creepy," she said and laughed," Sorry I couldn't resist that. Please may I stay at yours, they have your number and if anything happens, you don't have to rush out and find me. Is that OK?"

"

Fine by me, unless you snore?"

"I think that's your department," she said smiling widely.

"Cheeky, okay, we'll go back; you collect your stuff and come over to me. I'll make the bed up and make you a sandwich, cheese and ham or are you on a diet?"

"Do I look like I need to diet?" She asked horrified.

"Absolutely not, but I know how difficult life can be for you young girls."

"Thank you, cheese and ham sounds perfect. Do you have a toaster?"

"I'm sure I can find it, I seem to remember one in the kitchen somewhere."

"Thank you Mr Nottingham, you're so kind."

"Call me Jim, all my friends do."

"OK Jim," she held her hand out for shaking, I proffered mine and we shook heartily,

"Pleased to meet you Esme."

"My friends call me 'Ezz'"

"Righty ho 'Ezz' it izz"

She laughed again, as I started the car. We drove back in silence, she lost in her thoughts, me trying to fathom what this all meant. If anything happened to her mother what would I be expected to do? Would Social Services parachute in and whisk her away to a foster home or a care home for children? What happens about her schooling? Should her father be advised? She seemed to think this was not appropriate but he was the blood relative. How was it all going to work out.

Suddenly without realising how I'd done it, we were back at the driveway. I had driven from memory, which I found a little distressing, as I felt I was probably not entirely in control of the situation. But we were back. I let Ezz know I'd leave the door open so she could just come back in when she had everything she needed. I went in and threw the keys in the bowl on the table by the door.

Padding upstairs I went to the airing cupboard and pulled fresh bedding out and walked to my daughter Louise's old room, it was certainly the more salubrious of the two spare rooms, the pink wallpaper and leftover cuddly toys were more suitable for Ezz than Robert's room; where patches of wallpaper were missing where he'd carelessly stripped the walls of his posters when he went off to Uni. I realised that was probably fifteen years ago, at least, I was obviously becoming lazier and lazier about decorating. Never mind one day soon, I promised.

In Louise's room, I quickly made up the bed, using her old bed set, I hoped Ezz liked unicorn's? I laughed as the stupidity of it hit me. Closing the curtains, I left the room light on and walked downstairs, arriving just as Ezz appeared with a backpack and a small duffel bag over her shoulders. I pointed out the way and she trotted off upstairs. I carried on to the kitchen, beginning to search for the sandwich toaster. Finding it I found the makings of the sandwich and began to prepare for both of us. I made a cup of tea and searched for any squash bottles. At the back of a cupboard I found a bottle which alleged it was blackcurrant and apple, although it had clearly separated into its constituent parts and the use by date was several years ago. I went and poured it down the sink, thinking, I must put that on a list. Then thinking why?

As I went back to the sandwiches, Ezz appeared in the doorway. She had changed out of her uniform and donned jeans and hoodie, on which the words "A Right Royal Princess" were stitched in swirly lettering. Her phone was clamped to her hand but at least she was looking brighter. On her feet she had a pair of extravagantly fluffy slippers, in blue, matching the jeans. Looking up I joined her in a laugh as she saw the look of astonishment on my face.

"Sandwich is made, but I failed on the drinks front, is there anything else I could get you?"

"A gin and tonic would be very nice," she said winking. I roared, and asked her to try again, this time she settled on a glass of milk. We took the sandwiches into the lounge and she squirrelled herself onto the sofa, sitting with her legs tucked under her; her slippers on the floor at the base. She bit into the toastie and her eyes lit up.

"Oh my God! That is perfect, you have to make these again, I am famished."

"Plenty of ingredients over, Do you want me to make another, I could go again.?"

"Finish yours please, then yes I'd love another."

"Sold to the young lady on the sofa." I smiled as I bit into mine, actually it was pretty good, even if I say so myself. We munched away happily and I sat back and took a swig of my tea. Ezz sat forward and took the glass of milk and proceeded to down it in one.

"Thirsty?"

"Uhh Huh!" She said from inside a mouthful of toastie. I made a note to take her glass when I went to make another sandwich.

"Jim, this is really kind of you, I don't know what to say, except thank you, I'm pretty shaken up by this. I had no idea Mum was thinking of ending it all. It's..." she faltered and I could see her lip quivering and her shoulders shake as she tried to regain control of her emotions. I knelt on the floor in front of her and took her hands.

"This is not your fault; it has happened and even if you were aware of your Mum's intentions, there is no way on earth you could have stopped her. Ezz, she must have reached a point where everything had closed in on her and she couldn't see a way out of her situation. I have no doubt your Mum loves you very much, but even that love couldn't prevent what's happened, happening."

She nodded as she tried to stem the flow of tears and failed, her sobs wracking her small frame, shoulders heaving, her breathing interrupted by her gasps between her sobbing. I knelt up and just folded her in my arms, biting back tears myself. Finally she composed herself and I squeezed her gently before standing, grabbing her empty plate and glass, and snatching up mine as I passed.

"Toastie to eat in," I yelled as I entered the kitchen, "Glass of milk on the side."

I heard her laugh and then she padded into the kitchen following me, her arms went round my waist and her head pressed to my chest.

"Thank you Jim, I will never forget this, as long as I live." She held me tight and I slowly slipped my arms around her.

We stood there immobile until finally she relaxed her grip and I allowed my arms to move back from her. She looked up and smiled, then grinning took the toastie from the plate on the worktop and bit lustily into it, a long mmmmm emanating from her mouth as she pressed her lips together. She winked and beamed at me. Turning she walked back to the lounge.

Grabbing my toastie and her milk I followed her back, finding her once again ensconced on the sofa, legs under her body and licking her fingers, before picking up the remains of the toastie and popping it into her mouth. I placed the milk on the coaster on the coffee table in front of her. We sat in silence for a while then, looking at her watch, she announced she was ready for bed. I had made a decision earlier and decided now was the time to share it with her.

"I don't think you should go into school tomorrow, especially if there's a chance you can see your Mum. I'll phone tomorrow and explain the situation, I'll sure they'll be sympathetic to your situation and you won't get into any trouble. Is that ok?"

She nodded and heaved a sigh, looking at me with those deep blue eyes.

"I was going to ask you to phone, I know I won't be able to concentrate while Mum's in hospital, thank you." She rose up from the sofa and came to my chair, once again enveloping me in a hug. "Good night Jim, you're a good friend." She let me go and walked out to the stairs, not looking back but I knew how she felt. I had lost the most precious thing in my world, she had very nearly had that same experience.