Curious encounters with Elizabeth Jane, which gradually account and unfold the course of her life to the last day.
I first met Elizabeth Jane outside the A&E just down the road from my house. It was a cold, brisk November day and I was walking home from the bus stop. My usual route took me no where near the A&E, but today, due to the council deciding to tear up the road I had to take the long route past the hospital.
It was there where I first saw her, sat on the faded, green bench. She was enveloped in a large grey hoodie, with her long dark hair escaping from the sides of a long plait. Under one of the thin sleeves I could make out the swelling of thick swathes of bandaging. Taking a closer look at her face I could see streaks of dried tears on her cheeks, which were being rapidly covered by fresh tears. For some unknown reason I felt the urge to go up to her and see what was wrong. But it wasn't like me to feel like that, it confused me.
I wasn't unable to resist the urge.
I went and sat next to her, putting my briefcase next to the bench.
"Hello" I said to her. She didn't reply quickly, just looked at me as two more tears trickled down her cheeks.