He can usually avoid that part of town easily.
The road itself isn’t often part of his route. When it is, with a bit of thought he can come up with another way to make the delivery. After all, he’d been doing the job for over ten years now and was familiar with the town’s layout. He had always liked driving and the work was easy. Just pick up parcels from the depot and make his way around town, sometimes a little beyond, to deliver, get signatures on his gizmo and go back for more. The hours were good and the people in the office were an easy going bunch. Anyway, in the last six years he has only had to make a delivery to Hayward Street twice. On the second occasion it was a late one and it was dark. That had made it worse… a lot worse.
In fact, at the time he had the idea that if it happened a third time, he would see whether he could get a desk job at the depot. He felt his chances were pretty good. He had proved himself to be a good and reliable employee and he certainly knew all the streets and scheduling delivery routes would be a doddle.
He hadn’t seen the old lady. It was dark, and that particular street was not well lit. She must have been wearing something black; not that he ever found out. It was only her face he saw. An old, wrinkled face with terrified eyes, lit up by his headlamps. Then came the thump. A sound that he would take to his grave.
Would he still have a job if he’d reported it, if he’d stopped to make sure?
He was making a U-turn. He had taken the wrong road back at the junction. This way he wouldn’t have to drive through that street.
That was alright.
He knew a better way…