Waiting for doris

• Samantha Vanderlinden, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2004

It was an unusually chilly night in Melbourne when in the doorbell rung in the run down old house. An old wrinkled man slowly lifted himself from his tattered chair and hobbled over to the front door. He swung the door open with a “click” and as he pulled it towards himself, there was a “creak” from the rusty hinges.

Standing there was a man and a woman in police uniforms.
“What can I do for you officers?” the old man said in a croaky voice.
“May we come in Mr Jones?”
The old wrinkled man slowly shifted to the side to let them enter. “Why yes”, he crocked after a pause.

The old man slowly led the police officers into his lounge.
“How long have you lived here?” said the young male police officer trying to get comfortable on the tattered old couch.
“Oh, since Doris and I got married, now that would be going on 50 years,” said the old man in a cheerful voice. “Would you like a cup of tea Sir?” exclaimed Mr. Jones.
“Sorry but this has to be a short visit Mr Jones “ said the police officer switching to a more formal tone. “ I’m sorry to say” he added “but you’ll have to move houses.”

“What’s that you say? You have to speak up. I thought you said I had to move” the old man said making an attempt to clean out his ear with his weathered old finger.

“ Um, yes Mr. Jones, I did say that.” The police officer said shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

It was a long time before Mr Jones spoke. “This is going to kill Doris, this is going to kill her, she loves this house!” said Mr. Jones holding his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry Mr. Jones but we have to build this new freeway and your house is in the way” said the policeman guiltily ”You will be well compensated”.
“Well, could you at least wait for Doris to come home?” sighed Mr. Jones. “Of course” said the policeman feeling ashamed.
All three sat silently for some time looking at each other, at the door then about the room.
Finally the old man broke the silence. “ You see those scratches on the floor boards over there?” said Mr. Jones. “Yes” said the policeman unsure where this was leading “They are from my eldest boy Jack, he loved riding his toy car up and down that floor.”
“Oh, and don’t forget Jimmy - see (pointing to a photo) that’s him, he had just lost his first tooth” said Mr. Jones in amazement.

“Yes” said the policeman in frustration, “that is all well and good but there is no way that we can call the freeway off now. It’s too late.”
“OK but please could we wait until Doris gets home please I’ll do anything!” pleaded Mr. Jones.
“Yes, OK Mr. Jones we will let your wife come home before you move.”

“So where is Doris Mr. Jones?” asked the police officers. “She’s at work, she should be home soon” said Mr. Jones peacefully. “ Would you like a cup of tea?” asked Mr. Jones.
”Yes please,” replied the officers looking at their watches. “I’ll help you make it,” said the female officer politely.

As the old man and female officer busily made the tea and chatted away in the kitchen the male officer stood up and began to look about the room at the pictures. Sitting on top of the old table was old photos of children and people covered with dust. As his eyes wandered he found one photo, which was completely clean with a small cut out newspaper article next to it.

The photo was of a beautiful old lady nursing a small baby. The officer’s smile soon changed to a look of shock when he began to read the old newspaper article dated 5 years ago.

“WOMAN KILLED IN HORIFIC CAR ACCIDENT…Doris Jones died today …”.

Mr Jones wife was never coming home from work.