The sensation of falling through a trapdoor into a pit, passed.
The two policeman still sat, solid, unmoving and unmoved.
"How?" I whispered.
"We haven't finished our examination of the accident site," said Hansen.
"For Christ sake," I cried "when - why - where - can I see her - where is her - ," I whimpered, "body?"
Hansen said," I'm very sorry for your loss, and even more so for my inability to answer your entirely reasonable questions with any precision. Firstly we cannot determine the time until the reports from the emergency crews are received and the personnel have been interviewed and debriefed. Where - the A1M northbound, the nearest town is Doncaster. I'm afraid the accident was a front end collision to Mrs Blackwood's Porsche 911 and there was a fire. Her remains, few that there are, have to be separated from the wreckage and examined by the forensic laboratory which won't be until Monday next."
"I can't just sit here and do nothing for Christ sake," I shouted.
"Is there anyone we could call who could look after you, a relative or friend."
"Not really - Ellie was near enough an orphan, and my only family is my brother and he's living in Cornwall."
Hansen's calm was almost repellent, with his impassive face, the grey eyes half hooded by his eyelids. He said, "I'm not sure it is wise for you to be alone just now."
I got up restlessly and looked through the picture window into the wet dawn, drizzling grey mist onto the garden.
I turned and said as calmly as I was able, "Hansen, I'm not sure it's wise to have my wife destroyed in a motor accident. But it's happened. You'd better leave me to fight it out on my own. Give me a contact number and a reference and go."
He scribbled something on a business card which he carefully placed on the coffee table.
"Good bye Mr Blackwood. Give me a telephone call on Monday."
Hansen stepped firmly to the front door and Winford followed. As he passed me while I walked to the door to see them off, he whispered "Sorry," and touched my arm. I looked into his brown eyes, with lines of care radiating from them. There was humanity there, lacking in Hansen. Perhaps Tom Winford had seen too much of motorway carnage.
The door closed behind them and I heard the six cylinder engine of the BMW start and the car back away. The house was unnaturally quiet.
What should I do now? I was officially on leave until Monday. Not counting today, four days and if I rang the office I would get compassionate leave to go to Yorkshire to see Hansen and the police. And there might be an inquest. Then a funeral to organise. And I couldn't keep the Ferrari and this house up on my salary alone. So I'd have to sell them. And then there was Ellie's work to be told. And all Ellie's clothes, and her shoes and -
This maelstrom of problems tangled in my mind and then overwhelmed me with grief as I thought of the clothes, and more personal - things.
I looked at the whisky bottle. That wasn't the answer.
Decide something.
Go to Cornwall and see Mark, my brother and his family. That might help me straighten my thoughts. I could ring him now even though it was 6.30 am. He was always up early feeding his goats and chicken, and what all. But leave it until I had a breakfast and more coffee inside me.
I made myself eat a breakfast of two fried eggs on toast, and two large coffees.
The hollow feeling in my stomach persisted. Strange how grief started there, but had a short circuit to the tear ducts.
I shut that idea away and tidied the house, and with gritted teeth made our bed, realising and grieving that I need not put her night shift under her pillow. I buried my face in its delicate silkiness. She was still there. I put her in the laundry basket.
Kinder that, than crushed to smithereens in a burning Porsche.
I needed a shower and change of clothes. I had stripped and was in a dressing gown when the front door bell rang.
"Who's this at 7.30," I thought.
On opening the door Marjory, or Madge as she preferred, from next door, met my gaze.
"Come in Madge."
I sat us down in the kitchen with teas.
"I didn't think you'd be in bed, but I felt I'd wait till the police had gone. Don't trust them y'see. You ain't in trouble Jace dear?"
In that short sentence she revealed her Burnley childhood and accent, her mistrust of authority whether it be government or police, and her affection, more for me as Ellie's husband than for myself. Very early on when we had moved here, Madge came to love Ellie as the daughter she had never had.
Her three husbands, now passed away or left in countries across the globe had given her money, sons, and grandchildren, but not a daughter.
"Madge," I said, taking her hand,"be brave - Ellie's been killed in a motorway crash."
"Oh no, no, not Ellie. My lovely Ellie. And yours too."
She rose and gave me a hug. Madge's was a mother's hug. She was a short foursquare woman, muscles formed from early manual labour and childbearing, but practised at comforting children of any age, including me. We hugged in our grief, and our tears were shed. We resumed seats.
"Oh God what a shit deal Jace. She's so young and beautiful."
"Not anymore, according to the police. They're picking the pieces out of a burnt out wreck now. Look Madge, thanks for visiting, and come anytime, but what prompted you to come this morning?"
"Oh yeh. I've 'ad a text from Ellie. On my phone."
"You what? When?"
"I dn' know. 'Ere."
She passed me her 1G phone.
I tapped to the messages, and disentangled the text speak .
"Madge. Please go to Jason tomorrow morning. I know I've upset him. He'll probably have a hangover. Please make sure he's alright. Tell him I love him. Love Ellie."
The message was timed at 6.15 pm on Tuesday.
'God,' I thought, 'that can't be long before the crash. Where did she stop to send the text?'
"Can I put this on my phone?"
"I dunno how," said Madge.
I forwarded the message to my 'phone which obediently peeped 45 seconds later in the sitting room.
"That's done."
"What're you goin' to do Jace?"
"I think it's best to see my brother. He maybe can straighten out my mind and Cornwall will help too."
"It's a long drive - and can you trust that big flashy car?"
"No, I'll take the buzz box. The Ferrari will have to be sold, and this house, I can't afford to run them on my salary alone. I'm afraid you'll have some new neighbours before long."
"Doesn't matter. I'll miss Ellie."
"So will I Madge, so will I."
"I'll get out your way Jace. So you can get sorted for Cornwall. Give us a knock when you're leaving."
She gave me another comforting hug and left.
The house returned to threatening silence. I showered and dressed.
I had two calls I ought to make before I could ring Mark. One was easy, to Dave at the works. I knew who I'd be talking to and how to find and talk to him.
The difficult one was to Ellie's work. I didn't really know anyone there. All I'd met were people at ritual Christmas parties where I was in almost silent attendance to Ellie's mercurial and relentless pursuit of networking. On the odd occasion when my own work was exposed - the design of control systems for nuclear power stations - the response was usually "Oh ya, awesome," and a hastily executed withdrawal of the enquirer, now with glazed eyes as he or she re-entered the networking ballet. I'm sure Ellie felt the same at my like occasions at GDC. Banking wasn't exactly flavour of the month in engineering circles.
The other complication was that Ellie's contacts were in her lap top or mobile phone, which I assume were not to be recovered. In the bureau I found sufficient information to create an entry to the problem, and telephoned her HR people. Ellie was pretty high status so I was given a sympathetic hearing. They said they would inform the right people and send me an information pack for me to use. I couldn't imagine what the pack might contain, but at least I'd set some machinery in motion.
"Dave"
"Hi boss, I thought you were on holiday."
"Not yet.," I said cautiously ."Dave, would you be up for unpacking the kit and getting it into the racks at Sizewell with the technicians next week?"
"W'yes. Don't leave us beyond that, boss. We need you once wires start being connected to the real thing. But why?. You were looking forward to every minute of the on site work."
"Ellie's been killed in a motorway crash."
"Oh shit. Hell, I'm awfully sorry. God why didn't you say so?"
"I wanted to know you were happy with the job rather than loading it onto you when you couldn't refuse."
"Jesus you can take this man management thing too far, Jason. Is there anything me or Janet can do, stay with us or something?"
"No, that's a sweet offer and maybe later. But I'm going to my brother for this week end and on Monday I resume the thing with the police."
"Don't take the Ferrari to Cornwall. It needs too much concentration to drive. And that could be an expensive shunt."
"No, I'll use the buzz box."
"Well, be careful and let us know when you've landed."
"Ok Dave I will and thank you."
"The team'll be - don't know how to put it, rooting for you doesn't sound quite right."
"I know what you mean friend, and thanks."
When I rang Mark there was a delay while the phone switched to a mobile which he answered accompanied by a bleating of goats.
He was breathing heavily. "Hi."
"It's me, Jason."
"Oh sorry I was hoping for the vet. Look can I ring you later? I've got a kid all tangled up in Betty."
"Sure. Ring me when you're, or it's, straight."
'New birth is more important than accidental death', I thought,'you can help that.'
I started to pack for a stay with Mark. Even if he couldn't take my visit I would go somewhere away from this house. The bag wouldn't be wasted.
I busied myself, washing the pots, finding my phone, wallet, and keys and putting the stuff I needed into the Fiesta.
Mark rang after some half hour.
"Hi Jason, sorry about that, Betty had twins and I couldn't sort out which one's legs belonged to who. The vet did. So we have two kids. What do you want?"
Suddenly the contrast between Mark and the vet delving into the uterus of a nanny goat to disentangle the limbs of twin kids, to bring them into life and a Porsche 911 ramming into an accident and mangling my lovely woman into oblivion hit me. I started laughing which turned into hysteria and then tortured sobbing, which eventually subsided.
The phone babbled on the floor. I picked it up.
"Jason, what the hell's up. Was that you crying? Why dear brother, why?"
"Sorry." I calmed myself. "Ellie's been killed in a car crash."
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. But how, when, where? Are you alright? Shall I come up to you?"
"No Mark. I've had a little time to plan. Can I come down, today and stay until Monday?"
"Of course, but will you be alright driving all that way? Better I come to you."
"No. You might have another birthing crisis. And I need Cornwall just now."
"Oh, Ok. Er- when you arrive at the gate just hoot. The geese are a bit territorial with strangers."
"Geese? Those are new."
"Yes, another way of making some cash. Not so brilliant but we live in hope. Look Jason get down as soon as you can but do it safely. I don't want to lose any more family. Take care. Love you."
"Love you too bro'".
As promised I knocked on Madge's door.
"Come in love."
As usual there was a scampering of grandchildren to find who was the visitor.
"Now don't you bother him now Cherryl, or you Vince Jason's got a long way to travel, and a lot on his mind."
The little boy had run off at his grandmother's request, but the red-haired little girl stayed, sucking her thumb and regarded me solemnly through green eyes.
"Why are you sad Jason?" she piped with such honest and acute vision as only children can have, and with no adult inhibition to ask such a question..
She could hardly be more than seven.
Madge bit her lip.
"My wife has had a car accident. I have to go to her."
"Will she get better?."
" I won't know till I see her. That's why I must go quickly."
"I hope she's alright."
"So do I Cherryl."
"Run along dear," said Madge.
"Sorry about that," she said as the TV was switched on in the room next door.
I sighed, "Can't be helped Madge, I must go."
"Take these. Its a long journey and the food they serve at them motorway services is rubbish. I've made some sandwiches and a flask."
I'd forgotten the contempt she felt for the products of the modern food industry. What she handed to me in the lunch box would be organic and nutritious, and the bread made by herself.
"Thank you so much Madge. I shall enjoy that."
"Take care love, drive safely." she said with a final motherly hug.
I got into the Escort and sped away.