She stood in the back yard poking away at the flaming brazier when the call came.
The night was cold, but the chore of burning off rubbish had its rewards. The orange glow of dancing flames and the warmth being given off were satisfying. She had long come to the conclusion that any satisfaction she enjoyed would have to be self-made.
She answered with surprise in her voice. After all, it was evening. Who could be phoning this late? Her husband was out playing darts again at the club. She took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
Her friend was gushing. “Have you seen the newsflash… about the car accident?”
“Not really, why?”
“I’ve been watching it. They have a camera crew down on the beach, where the car went over. I thought I recognised the number plate. I mean, I’m so sorry, but I think it’s his!”
“No, no! He’s at the club. He’s in the darts team.”
“See for yourself, switch to the road reports. I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry…” She rang off.
She sat down in front of the screen as a witness was saying, “…Yes, that’s right. I was travelling behind as the car entered the bend ahead of me, his break lights came on, then it began to swerve violently before continuing across the walkers track and plunging over the cliff. It was horrible!”
She switched off and returned to the fire. As she poked, she smiled at the thought that the woman who lived just down the road from the club would be absolutely distraught when she heard the news.
She stirred the embers, making sure that no trace of the vehicle manual remained.