The whole terraced street was in a tizzy. Women in shawls, some cradling babies, stood on doorsteps to exchange gossip. The men pretended indifference, but at the corner of the street those not in work and with the time on their hands, found their own explanation. Something was wrong. Doris and Denis at Number 28 hadn’t been seen for days.
Some said they’d done a moonlight flit. Deep in rent arrears, they simply slipped away in the dead of night. But this couldn’t be true; they were known as a respectable couple. Denis was never seen in the pub or the bookies.
Ten-year old Ellie Bridges who lived next door pressed a drinking glass against the wall of her own scullery. She’d read about this in a comic. She put her ear to the glass but couldn’t hear a sound from the pair.
Eventually, Mrs. Tyler from across the street took control with her usual brazenness. ‘Bash the door down. They could be lying dead.’
They found Denis at the bottom of the stairs, dazed and dying. The dead body of his wife was on top of him. He was completely pinned down by her weight.
The doctor when called reckoned they had been going up the stairs when the overweight wife tumbled backwards taking her husband with her to the bottom.
She died immediately from concussion of the brain and the husband had been trapped under her for three days. He was so seriously injured he couldn’t get out.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 